“What? It’s true,” he says when I don’t respond with words. “You’re so stuck up and worried about what people will think about you fucking Tristan that he’s been hiding the two of you from our family.”
“He didn’t tell you I was still staying with him?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Did you know about all the prostitutes living with him?” I can’t help but ask, even if it’s way off topic.
“The what?” Creed mutters. “Did you say he’s living with prostitutes, as in more than one?”
“Yes, he was, six of them.”
“Why did he have six whores? I know he’s a horny bastard, but does he have some sort of sex addiction?”
“He let them live with him for free.”
“In exchange for unlimited fucks maybe…”
“He hadn’t slept with any of them in weeks.”
“Even I wouldn’t have resisted six whores in my bed before I met Zara, and I was practically a monk.”
“I don’t care what you would have done. I believe Tristan. He was helping them out, letting them live there so they wouldn’t have to, you know, screw men for money.”
“How generous of him. And economical, based on all the money he would save paying for them by the hour.”
Dammit. I don’t want to think about him with anyone but me, especially women he paid to have sex with because yuck, and how pitiful that he didn’t have willing women. I guess withhis kinks for tying up his partners and spanking them, it’d be easier to negotiate those things in advance with a professional.
“Would you shut up about the past? I’m guessing yours isn’t stellar.”
“Like I said, I was practically a monk before Zara because women were afraid of me.”
“And women aren’t afraid of Tristan?”
“I guess you have a point there. He has been known to get so rough women cry and shit afterward.”
“Really?”
“Why do you sound surprised? He doesn’t exactly put off any warm and cuddly vibes.”
“He’s warm and cuddly with me.”
“Really?” His voice is heavy with disbelief. “You fell for that?”
“I didn’t fall for anything. He’s been nothing but genuine with me.”
“Right. Well, you can stop bitching at me on the phone now. I’m here and need to call Dre.”
I spin around and see the passenger door of a dark SUV open at the entrance before the mob boss steps out. The sight of him still makes me uneasy, not because I think he’s intimidating, but because he represents everything I fight against, and I hate that I had to drop the charges against him.
“You can go now,” he says as he approaches with his phone to his ear. “I was talking to the DA. Yes, she’s here at the hospital too,” he tells who I assume is his cousin on the call. “Give me Tristan’s phone.”
“No. And I’m not leaving until he’s released,” I inform him.
“Great,” he grumbles sarcastically. “Dre, bring food and coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”
“So sorry to inconvenience you with Tristan’s bullet wounds.”
“I meant it’s going to be long because of you,” he says as he slips his phone into his coat pocket. “I love my cousin, and I hate that he was hurt. How bad is it?”
