Page 27 of Bourbon Kingdom
After a long day of showing the girls how to pose properly, asses out, breasts up, and figuring out when they should rotate in tandem with the music, I was pooped and ready to sink into my rock-hard mattress, thank you, Rex.
Once again, the man went off with Mercy today. The whole concept was so strange to me, and it made me think he really was playing me. He was using me as a tool against Jett, the only thing he didn’t realize was, I was using him as well.
After a quick shower, I settled into my bed, turned on my phone, and took a look at it. Every day when I got back from Masquerade, I begged for there to be a message on my phone from Jett. I know I left him without a clear answer as to what I was doing, but I just hoped he was able to push past his thoughts, the thoughts that I knew were clouding his mind.
To my disappointment, once again, there were no messages left for me on my phone, nothing. Not even from the girls.
I had never felt so lonely in my life. Even after my parents passed, I at least still had Lyla; right now, I had no one.
It was my doing; I did this to myself, but I thought maybe, just maybe, the relationships I built with the other girls were genuine, but after not hearing from them, it seemed like I was wrong.
Setting my alarm, I put my phone back down, rested my head on my pillow, and waved goodnight to Thomas Jefferson—the man was growing on me.
Rex had already turned in hours ago; he was by no means a night owl. I spent some time in the “library,” flipping through some books that were dustier than a mummy’s vagina. None of them had pictures, all of them had words I couldn’t understand, and not one single book talked about sex. What was that about? A touch to the wrist was a scandal. Boo! Give me flying tits and probing dicks.
After I got tired of searching for a book that at least wrote about a man’s giant sword, I took a shower and went to bed. Sleeping in Rex’s house was not comfortable. I didn’t belong here. He didn’t make me feel welcome; he made me feel like a prisoner. Shock alert, the man liked to suppress women, should have seen that coming.
Lately, it’d been hard for me to fall asleep. There were too many thoughts running through my head. Thoughts like, how the hell was I going to expose Rex and Leo before the interviews for Lot 17 when I had no time away from Rex? When I wasn’t in his house, being trapped in the confines of his crusty historical walls, he had me working with the girls. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Blane, and I hadn’t had a chance to explore the club and devise a plan. It was almost as if he knew I was up to something.
I blanched at the thought. He couldn’t know, could he? No, he was too caught up in Mercy’s pussy to be concerned about what I was doing.
Even though my mind was wandering, my eyes started to drift shut, just as a clunking sound came from my window. I turned just in time to see it opening, causing me to stifle a screech.
Before I could pull out one of the ancient machetes Rex had lying around, Kace fell through my window, making a bump on the ground.
“Jesus,” I said, as I scrambled to the end of my bed to look at him. “What the hell are you doing? You did not just climb up the house and through my window.”
Lifting himself up, he brushed off his pants and then stood. “I did.”
“What if my window was locked?”
“Why wasn’t it locked?” he asked gruffly, arms crossed over his chest—classic Kace move.
“Why are you here?” I countered.
“Why did you leave?”
Gah! Infuriating man.
“God, you’re frustrating,” I complained, while keeping my voice down. “And how did you find me?”
“Rex texted Jett.”
I could feel my face turn white and the blood drain from it in a matter of seconds. Rex texted Jett? Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? He was a prideful man, and when he felt like he won, he wasn’t a gentleman about it. No, he liked to rub it in.
“You can’t be serious. How is Jett?”
“How do you think he is?” Kace asked, as he sat on my bed next to me.
My body heated instantly from having him around, from having someone familiar and safe talking to me. I didn’t feel like I had to have my guard up.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I told him I would be back, that he needed to have faith.”
“Yes, but he’s a man who needs control at all times, and by leaving, you took that away from him. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s confused; he’s unprepared. He’s going back and forth constantly about how he feels. You’ve completely uprooted him.”
I buried my head in my hands and felt tears rush to my eyes as my throat clogged. With a gentle touch, very unlike Kace, he pulled me into his chest and held me as I cried. From the kind gesture and the comfort of his arms, I felt myself fall over that edge, the edge I was hanging on to by a thread. All the stress and mental abuse I’d put myself through came tumbling down.
The sweet caress of Kace’s hand ran up and down my back as he held on to me while I soaked his shirt with tears and, unfortunately, snot. I was a guaranteed ugly crier, happened every time.
