The Suit (The Bro Series Book 3) Read online

  “Have you been binge watching shitty rom-coms again?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a cheesy rom-com and a great glass of wine!”

  “This,” she squeaks. “This is what’s wrong with your idea of a great Friday night!”

  My face scrunches at her valid point. “Whatever, E. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m most likely not his type.”

  “Did he or did he not eat you out like there was a championship trophy on the line?”

  Memories of his tongue lapping up the remnants of my orgasm cause my thighs to thoughtlessly gravitate together. “I meant outside of the bedroom. I know his type. He most likely wants a supermodel to sport on his arm to the country club and a brain dead bimbo to stroke his ego. The type whose weekly maintenance costs the same amount as my mortgage. A woman who has colorful stamps on her passport, not one who collects postcards because she knows she’ll never go anywhere. He doesn’t want someone like me. I’m not-”

  “Please, refrain from finishing this stereotypical tantrum you’re on.”

  I surrender a hand. “Fine. I could be completely wrong about all of the above, doubtful, but I could be. Regardless of all of that, I do come with baggage, E. Truth is, I’m not sure a man like that would want to handle it.”

  Any man really. Single dads? Like fucking catnip for women. Single moms? We’re like the fucking plague. Most men don’t find that shit sexy, and those that don’t mind it, typically only feel that way because they’ve got kids of their own. Men like Pax? Men who wear power ties, sit in ivory towers, and spend thousands of dollars on a good glass of whiskey or a hand rolled cigar? They’re not looking to play daddy outside of the bedroom. They’re not ready to sacrifice their weekends to birthday parties with crappy cake and cranky parents who haven’t slept because of their newborn. Men like him aren’t ready to trade in their sports car for a family friendly SUV or pass on a weekend in the Hamptons to go see another damn Disney movie. And whenever they finally are, it won’t be with a woman who already has a kid. They’ll wanna start their own family not deal with pieces they had no hand in creating.

  “I mean I don’t consider my daughter baggage. Not even the slightest. She’s the biggest and most beautiful blessing to me. I just meant…most men will view her that way. Her and the drama that comes with her piece of shit gene donor.”

  Eden offers me a wistful smile. “Where is my beautiful little niece? Shouldn’t she have been back by now? Isn’t your appraisal meeting in like thirty minutes?”

  “Exactly.” After another sip of my coffee, I shake my head, irritation returning to my system. “The asshole that has no job, no responsibilities, yet still can’t seem to force himself to follow the mandated visitation order. I texted him to see if he was close or had at least left the house an hour ago and received nothing in return. Heaven forbid I try to pull that bullshit when he wants to pick her up. He has his lawyer immediately call mine to claim I’m not adhering to the agreed upon communication standards.”

  “Are you documenting this shit? Building a case to take all his rights away?”

  Since before my angel was born…

  “Of course, but everything he does comes with a believable excuse according to Dan, which just makes providing proof that much more difficult. Plus, Dan says if we stop trying to figure everything out in mediations and take it to actual court, it could be an even longer process in which I would need more concrete evidence to prove my points, especially in a county filled with judges who are pro dad.”

  If they knew the details…If they knew the truth about the situation…about what really happened, I’m not so sure that they would. But, then again, a judge’s disbelief was how we got into this nightmare custody scenario to begin with. Now, I’m stuck receiving bare minimal child support, splitting more custody with a sociopath each year, and trying to trust that my lawyer really does have our best interest at heart, even when it feels like he doesn’t.

  “I’d totally leave now for my meeting because you’re her godmother, and I obviously trust you to watch her, but again, due to our agreement, she has to be directly passed from one parent to the other.”

  This of course was put in place to hold him accountable for the state of which she returns to me. Which is never good.

  Ever.

  Eden hits me with a mischievous smirk. “You know the guys would be happy to solve this Jesse problem for you if I asked.”

  Helplessly, I smile in return. “Those two would do anything for you.”

  Mirth fills her expression. “I…may or may not be testing that theory.”

  Eden Brooks and I have been best friends since our first year at Ashwin University. We were dorm mates and within the first week it was clear to me she was running from something. Turns out it wasn’t something so much as someone, and it wasn’t someone so much as someones. Her life, I learned early on, is very unconventional and would always be. I found comfort in that. Coming from a nontraditional situation myself, being best friends with someone who understood the woes of being “weird”, the pain of being considered an outcast, and wanting to reinvent who you were, was a relief. And had she not been by my side when my life took an unexpected shitty left turn, I wouldn’t be here today and neither would my baby girl.

  My hip leans against the side of the island. “You know, I’m surprised they let you come alone.”

  Her eyes roll on their own volition. “Mmm. We’ll see if it stays that way. I have a feeling it won’t. Try to act surprised if they bang on your door demanding I spend the night in their fancy suite rather than your guest room.”

  “But I bought new sheets just for you!” I playfully jab.

  Eden rolls her eyes again, this time laughing.

  “Restoration starts tomorrow or Tuesday?”

  “Tomorrow. Should be done by the weekend. It’s a small job, and really, I’m just touching up someone else’s work. While I find it completely asinine to fly into this country to correct another person’s halfcocked execution when you could’ve hired me from the beginning, I love any excuse to visit you and drive the guys wild with worry.”

  A small snicker has barely left my lips when the sound of someone knocking interrupts.

  Quickly, I exit the kitchen of my one story home and make my way through the living room, with Eden trailing behind me.

  The moment I open the door, my daughter loudly squeaks, “Mom!”

  “Hattie!” I exclaim back as I lift her up.

  Her tiny six year old arms wrap tightly around my neck, washing away the insecurity.

  The self-loathing.

  The constant irritation her sperm donor creates.

  Everything I do, I do for this little girl. She makes every early morning, every late night, every overtime hour I work worth it. She deserves the whole world and to know she has someone in her life willing to work their ass off to provide her with it.

  I plant a sweet kiss on her light complexion. She giggles at the action, and instantly returns it.

  When she pulls back, I take a moment to drink her in, doing my best to hide my lividness at what I see.

  The same clothes she wore yesterday except now they’re stained.

  Unbrushed hair.

  Dirt spots on her neck.

  Dark circles under her eyes.

  A new scrape on her arm.

  I press my lips together to take the moment I need to regain my composure.

  Hattie weakly says, “Mom, I don’t feel good.”

  The words register the same way they always do, and my restraint snaps. “Have you eaten this morning?”

  She slowly shakes her head.

  A glare instantly shoots Jesse’s way. “You didn’t think you might need to feed your hypoglycemic daughter?”

  He gives me a small shrug.

  Rather than rip him apart in front of her, something I swear I won’t do because she deserves better, and because I don’t want him to have any ammunition against me during our custody battles, I divert my attent
ion back to her. “Can you please go brush teeth, wash your face, and change clothes while Auntie Eden makes you something to eat?”

  “Auntie Eden’s here?!”

  On cue, my best friend arrives at my side. “Sure am!”

  “Auntie Eden!” Hattie joyfully shrieks sliding from my grip to hers.

  They exchange a brief hug followed promptly by Eden putting her down. “Do what mom said while I get started on making you…pancakes or waffles?”

  “Waffles.”

  “You got it, princess.”

  Hattie scurries away as quickly as her defeated body will take her.

  Jesse doesn’t bother waiting for her to be out of ear shot before throwing out an insult. “They let you back in the country? Surprise, surprise.”

  Eden folds hers arms across her chest. “You haven’t been ass raped in prison yet? Surprise. Surprise.”

  Although I love seeing my best friend out trash talk the biggest demon in my life, I don’t have time for it. Not with a meeting I’m already going to be late for. And not with a more important lecture to be had.

  My eyes settle on the 5’10, fair skinned, blonde haired pain in the ass. “Jesse, you may not give a fuck about our daughter, but I do. And keeping her alive is at the top of the goddamn list. So fucking feed her when you have her for the one overnight a month you are entitled to.”

  He cocks what most women find to be a charming grin.

  I simply find it nauseating.

  “I fed her.”

  “When and what?”

  “Yesterday,” he casually answers, “when she said she was hungry.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Jesse,” my voice shakes in rage. “She needs to be fed more often to keep her blood sugar stabilized. What is so hard about that to understand?! You do this shit every time she’s in your care! You don’t take into concern her medical condition-”

  “Being hungry isn’t a medical condition. It’s how you prevent your kid from becoming a lard tard or growing up to look like thunder thighs over there.”

  The reference to Eden’s body, which is far from overweight or unattractive boils my bitterness.

  “I know a pair of men who don’t mind listening to it storm.”

  He sneers at the retort.

  “This is why I won’t stop fighting to take away the sliver of custody you do have. You are a menace to our child and putting her life in danger because you’re too fucking lazy to care about anything other than yourself.”

  He gives me a smug smirk. “I care about the money that little shit drains out of my trust fund every month. I care about the fact I have to get my fucking car detailed every week because she eats crackers like she’s still a fucking baby. I care about the lecture my fucking parents call to give me every week to remind me to take my custody day because they pay for the lawyer who insures that you will never be able to keep me out of her life or yours.”

  And here is a major problem that arises when dealing with someone who comes from money when you don’t. It’s also the reason I was wary about my mother marrying someone who has so much they own their private island. They typically tend to be vicious… Vindictive… Vile… Despite the lies you’re told growing up, money can and does solve just about everything, including how to keep humiliating someone over and over again for the sake of your own sadistic entertainment.

  Knowing I need to report the state my daughter came home in and contact my lawyer, I dismiss him on a heavy sigh, “Go away, Jesse.”

  “See you next week, babe.”

  I slam the door in fury.

  Eden’s mouth twitches to speak, yet I cut her off with a lift of the hand. “This is why I don’t have time to give a fuck about dating, E. Protecting my daughter is a full time job, and I doubt any man wants to share this load. Even if he did…not sure I could bring myself to trust him around her. She already has one huge disappointment for a father figure. I don’t have the patience or strength for another.”

  Without an additional word, I stroll away, heading straight to Hattie’s room at the end of the hall.

  Guess it was a good thing I got the little something I did last night because dating just dropped off my radar again. It’s for the best. Hattie’s happiness will be and should always be more important than my own. That’s how I was raised….That’s how she’ll be raised, too.

  Chapter 3

  “Happy birthday, bro!” Wyatt, one of my best friends, shouts with drunken enthusiasm. “Let’s fucking cheers!”

  “As the only other member of the dirty thirty club, I feel inclined to give the toast,” Nate, one of our other best friends, declares from where he’s sitting on the roof top pool’s edge.

  Wyatt shakes his head, wet blonde hair flinging water around. “Yeah, but you fucking suck at speeches.”

  “I do not.”

  Holden, the last member of our brotherhood, argues. “Should we bring up the shitty speech you gave a couple years ago when Pax started his law firm?”

  “Or the one you gave on his last birthday?” Wyatt recalls on a chuckle. “Fucking, depressing is what that was. Like we needed a cold shower to fucking cry in while we used our tears as lube to jerk off with.”

  Nate cringes. “The imagery of that was horrifying.”

  “You’ve all seen my dick. It’s glorious not horrifying.”

  Our groans collide with our own laughter.

  It’s the fucking truth. We’ve all seen each other naked in some capacity. When you’ve been friends as long as we have, and your bond runs as deep as ours does, shit like seeing each other’s dicks doesn’t faze you. Hell, it’s hardly cause for blinking twice. But we love this shit. We all wanted it. We all needed it. Even after the fall of our “kingdom”, even after the outside world declared our friendships would fade as we embarked on actual adulthood, we’ve remained loyal to one another. To the secrets we established during the drinking ages. To the secrets we’ve established more recently. Our affinity can’t be severed.

  Won’t be severed.

  Not as long as I’m fucking breathing.

  “Will somebody just say something so we can fucking drink already?” I grumble.

  Holden lifts his cup into the air. “They say your 30s will inevitably be better than your 20s. I don’t think we should sit around and compare. We should count how we’re blessed at every turn instead of cursed. Here’s to remembering to focus on what bonds us rather than breaks us.”

  We clink our cups together at the well-executed declaration.

  Yeah. Letting him give the toast was definitely the right call. While Nate has relaxed a helluva lot since his girlfriend, Ainsley, barged into his life shaking it up, I’m not sure he would’ve said something that had a general good vibe rather than a clear concise message that we should all follow in his footsteps.

  That we should all fall in love.

  Like it’s that fucking easy.

  Like some of us haven’t been trying.

  Like some of us don’t fucking hate having to hop from pussy to pussy because women are more interested in how big of a diamond you can buy them if they put the time in.

  I tip the plastic cup back to my lips and down what’s left.

  Nate pushes his sunglasses over his obnoxiously youthful face. Oldest of all of us yet looks at least four years younger. “Surprised you’re up this early. Night Heat a bust or what?”

  “Not for me,” Wyatt childishly taunts. “Then again, it never is.”

  A shocked expression appears on Holden’s face. “You strike out, Pax?”

  The noon sun lands directly on top of me like an interrogation spotlight.

  Striking out is not a term in my vocabulary. Pussy presents itself to me like a never ending buffet. Most women take one look at me in a suit and see something that gets them wet. Power. Money. Strength. I always have a wide selection to choose from, which means going home alone is never about unavailability. It’s a choice. And like my cigars I prefer to choose wisely. However, my choice, the
one I wanted to call, the one I wanted to hear screaming my name at the top of her goddamn lungs left me without the direct means to get in contact. Doesn’t mean I can’t.

  Doesn’t mean I won’t.

  Probably means I shouldn’t.

  Same issues. Different day.

  Different woman.

  The woman.

  Unsure why my mind and dick are convinced they can’t be pleased anywhere else, I casually reply, “Nah. Didn’t wanna kick some random piece of ass out of my bed before brunch. Wanted to start my birthday off the right way.”