Page 36 of Dissolving Prejudice

Anyway, it was kissing midnight, and this fucker was obviously not the guy. Not planning to waste another minute in this cold watching him having dinner with a hooker, I pulled down my helmet shield and was ready to ride home when my phone buzzed. I took it out of my back pocket and smiled at seeing Shay-Lee had just texted me. I was even more excited when I saw he sent a photo. As I slid it open, a dark laugh erupted from me. The image didn’t amuse me, but Shay-Lee’s audacity to wear my gift and then send me a photo of him in it, lying next to sleeping Jordan, with the additional text “Thanks for the gift. He loved it,” did.

My dick stiffened with ideas of how I’d punish him for being this cocky, and licking my lips, I zoomed in on his face. As always, he looked like a work of art, and I couldn’t wait to shove my dick down his throat and make him shed a few tears that would wash the smugness off his pretty face. This little fucker sure knew how to stir me up. But then again, I’d half expected him to do something like this. After all, he was a vindictive little devil.

I downloaded the photo to my phone and then cut it so Jordan would be left out before I saved it into my Llorón folder, which, by now, had many photos of him that I had taken over the past few weeks.

Him getting coffee.

Him sitting in his car.

Him stretching in yoga.

Him reading a book while having his hair pulled up in a bun.

I even snapped a photo of Shay-Lee in the gym’s locker room while he was changing out of his workout clothes. I knew he’d be pissed if he found out I was stalking him, but that was the point, wasn’t it? To cage my kitten into a corner until he’d have nowhere to run.

Closing my phone, I pocketed it and then kicked my bike’s engine back to life. It roared, and the power of that beast between my thighs boosted me with even more energy and adrenaline than I already had. Pumped as fuck, I rode out of there fast, quickly getting on the highway while weaving between cars, cutting through the wind, and feeling the high of the ride while already knowing what my next step would be.

Shay-Lee loved playing with fire. His only problem was that he’d become used to the water that cooled off his blaze—my little fool. He needed a reminder that, unlike his pathetic fiancé, I wasn’t water, nor was I fire. I was fucking fuel. Diesel. And with his constant attempt to light things up, this whole thing was about to blow up in his face. Because, after all, that was what we were.

An explosion.

Diesel

“Beverly Hills, huh?” I smiled to myself as I walked into the empty house, feeling absolutely at ease even though I had just broken into this place. With my hands shoved in my jacket pockets and a raised brow, I checked out the place. It was dull and boring, not at all what I’d expect from my Llorón but definitely how I’d imagine Jordan’s house—plain walls and expensive-looking furniture that compensated with quality over what they lacked in taste. I even spotted a gaming console in the living room, which made sense as I imagined Jordan to be the type to like that shit.

Although I wasn’t here for Jordan but for Shay-Lee. To be more accurate, I came here to punish the brat after he dared to wear my gift while fucking—shit. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it. The idea of another man having his hands over what was mine drove me nuts, which was probably why what I planned on doing made perfect sense in that sick head of mine. Yet, despite being limited on time, I didn’t hurry to go straight to the bedroom and first looked around the house. It definitely didn’t feel like Shay-Lee was living here, until I reached his closet. The high-couture clothes perfectly hung in glass closets with golden frames practically screamed his name, and I grinned before getting closer. I dragged my fingers along the clothes, feeling the shift of textures from one item to the other as I walked farther down his huge closet.

While I wondered where he’d gotten all these new clothes from, my eyes locked on a white suit, and I pulled it out to examine it up close. It reminded me of what he’d worn the first time we met at the Notte Oscura, when he looked like a god. My chest tightened with longing, and I put the suit back before I continued snooping. Opening a few drawers, I saw his watch collection, then a bunch of other jewels that shone so bright they nearly blinded me. He was always flashy with his money. I often found this quality in rich people obnoxious, but Shay-Lee made it cute. I was ready to close the drawer when I noticed a small black box. Curious, I took it out only to see it had a lock on. Twisting my lips, I debated if I should try and open it before deciding to move on. Putting the box back in place, I closed the drawer and went to find what I had come here for.

“Lucky me.” I grinned when I tracked the notable lingerie placed in its box. Looking inside, I noticed my note was missing. He probably tore it apart. Moving my fingers along the items, I bit my lip, then grabbed the lace thong. Fisting it in my hand, I brought it to my face and shamelessly pressed it to my nose. Shay-Lee’s scent was strong and vivid, overcoming the reek of sex. Yeah, I knew how sex smelled, and it was just that—filthy. The scent went straight to my cock, and I groaned with frustration that Shay-Lee wasn’t here because all I wanted was for him to sit on my face and ride me until it went fucking numb. My need to have him, own him, as I once had fumed inside me like lava, so much that it was hard to contain my lust. Clenching the thong harder in my fist, I glanced over my shoulder at the door leading to his bedroom. Without thinking twice, I strolled over there and jumped on their bed. Yeah, this was the bed my Llorón shared with his new lover, which made what I was about to do next a whole lot better. With one hand, I unzipped my pants and pulled out my throbbing length. I was already rock hard as I brought the thong to wrap around my dick. But what was the point if I was the only one to enjoy this moment? Using my other hand, I took out my phone. Making myself comfortable on the bed, I opened the camera and chose video. Hitting Record, I smirked, ready to give Shay-Lee a taste of his own sweet medicine.

Shay-Lee

Deep silence surrounded the conference room as Vito sat at the head of the table with a sour face. He was clearly displeased with the variety of ideas the team had pitched him thus far, and I could understand why. They all sucked. Sitting at the side because I wasn’t a part of the head designer team (for now), I kept my mouth shut while fighting hard against the urge to roll my eyes. This meeting was a disaster, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. It was already evening, so not only was I hungry because I’d foolishly skipped lunch, but I was also tired. Knowing Jordan had classes till late today, I’d have to order takeout, which meant I’d have to choose what I was hungry for, and I had no idea—

“Shay-Lee, what do you think about this?” Vito asked in his strong Italian accent that snapped me out of my head.

For a moment, I was locked under his penetrating stare, which was quite unique, thanks to his heterochromia. While one of Vito’s eyes was blue, the other was pitch-black.

Getting a hold of myself, I looked at the vision board. “Pastels? If we wish to be predictable, why not go for florals, too?” I said, unable to hold in my snort.

Mila, the designer who pitched the idea, glared at me just as Vito burst out laughing. “That is correct, Bello!” He clapped his hands, and all the designers but me shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Despite being a tiny man, Vito’s personality took up most of the space in the room, making it hard not to be intimidated.

“So, does anyone have an idea that won’t make people say Vito Renieri lost his charms and is recycling overused clichés?” he snarled, addressing the silent room.

Looking around, I saw that no one seemed to be willing to speak, so I did. “What about cultural summer?”

Vito turned to look at me, his eyes narrowed. “Elaborare.”

I smiled. It was always funny when he switched to Italian. “I mean, every culture celebrates summer in a different way. Greece, Japan, Colombia… all have beautiful festivals. Why not use them as inspiration? Something like a trip around the world.”

Vito’s smile grew before he turned back into the room. “See? This is what I am talking about.” He then pointed at his personal assistant, who he changed on a monthly basis. “Make sure to write it down,” he ordered, then switched to Italian while speaking way too fast for a normal human to catch up with him.

Amused, I looked down at my sketchbook. The only reason I joined this meeting was in the hope of catching a few spare minutes with Vito to go over my ideas with him. He was extremely kind to me, and I often wondered if it was because of my past. After all, he knew my father like most people had. In fact, he’d even designed a suit for him once. I still remembered that day as if it was only yesterday. We were in our summer mansion in Lake Como and were getting ready for an event when my father decided my clothes were inappropriate—too seductive. Those were his precise words. As if to prove his point, he began stripping me out of them, not showing a bit of mercy despite my constant begging. He had me naked and on my knees when Orson informed him Vito had arrived with his new suit. And even though it only delayed my punishment, at that moment, I was thankful for Vito’s timing.

I was only fifteen when it happened.

My phone buzzed, distracting me from thinking about that time, and I pulled it out to check the message, not surprised to see it was from Camilo.