I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (24 page)

Planted where I was on the top of the steps, I stared down into his impatient gaze. “You’re into human trafficking?”

Indignation flashed across his face as his jaw clenched. “You serious? Did any of those girls look like they’re being forced to do shit against their will?”

Aside from a few chagrined expressions, none of the women, should I be honest, looked like hapless women who were being forced to live a life they didn’t want. “But … you called them
your
girls. What do they do for you?”

“They don’t do anything for me, or anybody, but themselves, Krissy. They live a free, luxurious life without a worry in the world. When they’re ready to quit it, they quit. No one stops them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.” I really didn’t.

“Should we continue having this fucking conversation like this? Here?” he snapped at me. Then he raked his fingers back through his hair and his voice softened. “Please, Krissy, come with me. Anything you ask me, I’ll answer with the truth.”

Remaining where I was, I wagged my head no.

Trevillo sighed and took a few steps forward, stopping at the bottom step. He looked up at me and locked me in his gaze. “A few breathtaking minutes ago, you showed me
you
. You, singing, has got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. You’re precious to me, Krissan. So I promise, I won’t hide anything from you. ‘Cause I’m falling, too.”

After heading back into the house to check on Carlos’ well-being and showering him with a profusion of apologies for something I couldn’t even explain, I fetched my handbag and headed back outside where Trevillo was waiting for me in his car. He assured me he’d have someone pick up the V12 and sped out of Mark’s residence.

“It’s a pleasure club,” he explained, before I could start shooting questions. “Not a business, just for pleasure. Private, exclusive, confidential, identities concealed. I, along with a close friend whose name I can’t disclose because he’s a celebrity, own it.

“For the girls, it’s
their
choice to be there. It’s
their
choice if they want to fuck the members or just tease and play roles. No one forces anyone to do anything. They only need to make sure they’re on the floor every night. That’s all. They’re given their own high-end apartment, their own high-end vehicle, monthly allowance, and basically live like fucking rockstars.

“No druggies, though. No kind of drugs whatsoever. Got to stay clean, or they get the boot. And there’s a long list of girls on standby, waiting for someone to get kicked out so they can slide into that spot. It’s all just for fun. For pleasure. For the underground enjoyment of my business partners. That’s all.”

Having spewed all that out in one breath, he inhaled deeply when he was done. And I nodded. Because I believed him. Mark always had these hot, sexy women running around his house like playboy bunnies, and, as aforesaid, they were all flawless and seemed quite content. So I didn’t have a reason to doubt his words.

“For your pleasure, too?”

“Not sexually.” He glanced over at me for a brief second before shifting his eyes back to the road. “I told you: you’re the first younger woman I’ve ever been with. The
only
one I intend to be with.”

I decided to ignore the latter of his sentence … for now.

Even though I knew the answer to my next question, I fired it anyway. “Did you hit Mark and Carlos because of me, or because of ‘your girls’?”

Trevillo dragged his eyes from the road and gave me a look I couldn’t fathom. He shook his head slightly and redirected his eyes to the road.

“I went there to set Mark and those girls straight, but I saw my Aston, and knew you were there. Only, I didn’t know
why
you were there. At my friend’s house. The worst of my friends, at that. The friend who fucks any damn thing that breathes. Even though I couldn’t piece together how you even knew him, I just assumed you were screwing him.

“So, the second he opened his door, my fist connected with his face. I demanded to know where the fuck you were and, if he was fucking you, I was gonna kill him then decide what to do with your ass later. He swore he didn’t know any Krissy, but that if I were referring to KK, then she was down in the basement with his brother.”

He chuckled as if now realizing how thoughtless and impulsive his actions had been. “Yeah, that made me see red. I stormed down to the basement, saw you behind the glass with your eyes closed, strumming your guitar, and then, I was breathless.” Smiling appreciatively, he added, “You’re fucking amazing, Krissan Kingston.”

Flattered by his compliment, but still confused about Carlos’ broken nose, I asked, “Then why on earth did you hit Carlos?”

“Oh, that.” His face got serious again. “I saw him looking at you and licking his lips like he was picturing you naked, while you sang words meant for
me
. I didn’t like it. So I broke his fucking nose so he’d know never to look at another man’s woman like that again.”

Appalled, I gaped at him, instantly remembering his words: ‘
With me, things are usually insane, fast, and dangerous’.

“You’re a bit frightening sometimes, Trev.”

“Good. Never cheat on me.”

His voice held so much austerity and threat, cold sweat from fear washed over me.

“Why do you think I would?” I whispered.

A reminiscent shadow passed over his face, and several minutes went by before he decided to answer. “Every woman I’ve ever screwed belonged to someone else. They were all taken: married 0r otherwise, yet they willingly gave themselves to me. Sometimes without a second thought, and sometimes with a half-hearted fight that was more submission instead of true resistance. It’s always so easy. I fucked them and sent them back to their husbands or whoever. Women are … women: Weak and fickle. And weak. And fucking faithless. They can’t be trusted.”

That was when it all became clear to me. “So that’s the reason you never bothered finding someone for yourself? Someone to call yours? Someone close to your age, that you might fall for? Because you think they’ll cheat on you just like the women you’ve slept with cheated on their significant others?”

Trevillo sucked in his cheeks and kept his eyes trained on the road, seeming deep in thought. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I couldn’t help admiring how boyish he looked when he did that.

“Don’t cheat on me, Krissan,” was all he offered.

And this time, it wasn’t just a threat, it was also a plea.

“C
’mon, Trev, just one draw,” Nardo pressured, thrusting a huge joint in his face.

Trevillo was hanging out at his buddy’s home, lounging by the pool, talking shit, and swigging beers. While Mark and Nardo smoked pot, Trevillo didn’t, so they were constantly trying to talk him into it, being the epitomes of peer pressure.

Nardo’s home was the one place they could get away with underage lawbreaking shit, such as smoking and drinking alcoholic beverages, because Nardo’s father smoked pot, too. He was cool, and he understood guys needed to be guys, so he allowed them free reign. Thus making the Lewis’ residence their weekend chill spot. For Trevillo, it was a break from the overwhelming pretentiousness at his own home.

For about the hundredth time, Trevillo declined. “Nah. I’m good.”

Nardo shrugged, pulled a long draw, and resumed his pointless chatting. As usual, Trevillo only half-listened to the gibbering, as his attention was directed up to the third-floor balcony of the Mediterranean-style home. There, Mrs. Lewis, Nardo’s mother, was lying face-up on a lounge chair, sunbathing in a red bikini. She wore huge sunglasses and had a paperback open in her hand. Maybe she was reading, maybe she was checking him out behind those sunglasses. Who knew?

He chose to believe the latter, though. Mainly because the woman always swam or sunbathed on the days he and his buddies decided to hang by the pool. And she suffered no uncomfortable awkwardness sashaying around in those flimsy scraps called ‘bikinis’.

It had to be him who she teased. It couldn’t have been Mark, because he had a gap in his teeth that was so wide, you could see his tonsils when he smiled.

The flaunting might not have bothered Trevillo if the woman was wrinkled and unattractive with flab here and there, saggy tits or a flat, shapeless ass.

That, however, wasn’t the case with Mrs. Lewis.

Mrs. Lewis was a blond bombshell who was polished to a T, buffed to the D, and curvier than video vixens.

Trevillo didn’t watch porn. Porn was for suckers. All his fantasies consisted of Mrs. Lewis and him in various positions, and he would fist himself into orgasm many times imagining his cock in her mouth, between those copious breasts, inside her … Shit. The woman was a fucking tease, and she was going to get
fucked
. Soon. Real soon. He just needed an opening, narrow as it may be.

Soon came sooner than he ever imagined it would be.

As the heat of the sun pelted down on him at the poolside, Trevillo squinted his eyes against its glare and watched as Mr. Lewis walked out onto the balcony, twirling his car keys around his fingers, formally dressed, looking like he was about to leave. His lips moved as he said something to his wife, and she gave him a bright smile and nodded. He leaned down to drop a kiss on her forehead and disappeared back into the house.

Trevillo kept still, blocking out the chattering of Nardo and Mark, as he keenly listened for a specific sound.

That sound came three minutes later: the roaring of Mr. Lewis’ Ferrari.

Delighted he finally had his opening, Trevillo turned to Nardo and held out his hand. “I’ll take that draw now.”

Grinning, Nardo passed him the joint and Trevillo sucked in a long draw, held it in for a beat, and let it escape through his nostrils. Passing the joint back to Nardo, he stood up from the lounge chair he was sprawled out on, and told his friends, “Gonna take a piss.”

More than familiar with the Lewis’ residence, Trevillo navigated his way from the pool area, straight into the house, and up the stairs to the third floor where he knew Mrs. Lewis was.

He stopped at the French doors leading out to the balcony so that Nardo and Mark wouldn’t be able to see him. Quietly standing there for a minute, he studied Mrs. Lewis’ gold-tanned skin glistening under the sun, her nipples hard and pressing against the thin fabric of her bikini top. Was she turned on, or did she just have
those
kind of tits? He took note of the book she was reading and instantly understood. She was actually
reading
, not checking him out.

His arrogance needed to be subdued.

Guising his voice as weak and vulnerable, he tapped his knuckles against the French door and called, “Mrs. Lewis?”

Startled by his voice, she jackknifed up from the chair and turned, her cheeks flushed, looking as if she’d been caught doing bad deeds.

This was such a wide opening.

When she saw him, she relaxed and smiled. “Oh, hi, Trev.”

With feigned diffidence, he slid his gaze to his friends down at the poolside, then back at her. “I kind of … need your advice on something. Girls.”

Mrs. Lewis looked to his friends down at the poolside, too, then nodded with a knowing expression. “Ah, you don’t want your friends to know you’re seeking girl advice.” Closing her book and setting it aside, she stood up from her chair and walked into the house.

Stilling faking, he made a timid chuckle. “No. How em-embarrassing would that be?”

Mrs. Lewis gave him a benign smile as she stopped in front of him, placing a hand on one hip provocatively jutted out to the side. Even though he was a mere seventeen years old, he was already six feet one inch in height, and Mrs. Lewis was shorter than him at around five feet eight. It drove him wild when women had to tilt their head back to meet his eyes.
The ultimate turn on.

Fighting to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage, he asked, “You know about relationship stuff, right?”

She emitted a sexy laugh. “Of course, Trev. I’m married, aren’t I?”

“Well, there’s this girl … ” Trailing off, he made a show of glancing uncertainly around the room, pretending to be uncomfortable with talking about such a ‘personal’ topic in the open.

Mrs. Lewis waved her hand dismissively. “No one’s here but me and the housekeeper, Trev. You can talk.”

He injected a dose of lameness in his voice and expression. “Yeah, but I still feel … you know.”

Rolling her eyes, she spun on her heels and signaled for him to follow. “Alright. C’mon, we can talk in my study.”

Trailing behind her gave him a close-up of her ass rolling in the skimpy bikini. Trevillo took the opportunity to adjust his crotch as he followed her throughout the house and down a hallway, where she stopped and opened the door to her study.

She gestured for him to enter. He walked in, but immediately pivoted around. The instant she closed the door and turned, he hovered over her.

She let out a tiny gasp as she stared up at him with questioning eyes. “What are you doing?”

Trevillo moved in closer, and she stepped backward with each advance until she was backed up against the door, right where he wanted her. When he moved his right hand around her to turn the lock with a ‘click’, she asked again, “Trev, what are you doing?”

As his gaze dropped to her wide, full lips, he announced, “I’m going to kiss you.”

And he did. His lips met hers, and his tongue slipped between them to rub against hers. He was utterly surprised at her receptiveness of the kiss. Until she pushed hard at his chest, jerking him back a bit, and slapped him across the face.

Fuck
, that felt good.

“I’m married!” she hissed at him. “You don’t just kiss somebody’s
wife
!”

“Do that again,” he commanded.