Chapter 1
Carlos Butcher P.O.V
I thrust deeper into her, her moans echoing off the walls of my private suite as my cock pulsed inside her heat. The scent of her arousal mixed with sweat and expensive perfume filled my nostrils. Just as the climax hit, the bedroom door swung open without so much as a knock.
The sharp sound of heels echoed through the room. There was only one woman arrogant enough to barge into my room without knocking.
Beside me, the girl froze, her breath catching sharply in her throat. The sheer panic of being caught in bed with me especially by her, hit all at once. She scrambled out of bed, tripping over her own feet as she clawed at the floor for her clothes. Her hands shook so badly that she could barely get dressed. Honestly, it was almost comical.
I, on the other hand, leaned back against the headboard, completely unbothered by the girl's frantic panic. I reached over to the table beside the bed, my hand perfectly steady as I picked up my pack of cigarettes. I tapped one out, slid it between my lips, and lit it. Taking a slow drag, I exhaled a lazy stream of smoke.
"What do you want, Sloane?" Of course it was my wife. Who else would have the audacity to barge into my suite like she owned the place?
I took another drag of my cigarette.
"Hmm... she's new," Sloane said sweetly as she strolled past the frantic girl. She lowered herself onto the couch, smoothly crossing one leg over the other.
My eyes locked onto her, and for a second, I forgot about the cigarette in my hand.
She was fucking gorgeous.
The deep slit in the front of her dark coat dress parted as she sat, revealing her long, impossibly smooth legs, perfectly framed by a pair of tall leather boots. The neckline dipped low across her chest-sharp, deliberate, and elegant, just like everything else about her. She carried herself with the effortless confidence of someone who believed every room belonged to her.
Her hair was pulled into a sleek low bun at the nape of her neck. Nestled neatly among the dark strands was a silver hairpin I recognized immediately. It belonged to my grandmother.
Seeing the family heirloom adorning Sloane sent a strange, unsettling wave of admiration through my chest.
She placed her black handbag on the small table beside the couch. I took another slow drag of my cigarette, my eyes lingering on the sharp lines of her face, the graceful curve of her waist, and the quiet confidence radiating from her. Caught red-handed or not, I couldn't bring myself to look away.
She looked like a demon in a designer dress-completely unbothered by human messes and fully aware of the absolute havoc she was capable of unleashing. The more I watched her, the more dangerously beautiful she became.
Meanwhile, the petite woman rushed around the room, desperately searching for her underwear. The mere sight of my wife had scared the living hell out of her.
"Take your time, sweetheart," Sloane said, watching the woman with amused eyes.
"This better be good if you're interrupting me and my partner...." I say, I couldn't find the right word to describe the girl. I couldn't even remember her name.
"Partner?" Sloane repeated, one perfectly shaped brow arching.
"That's absurd." She smiled. "I'm your partner because I'm your colleague and your wife. She's just someone you have sex with."
Her smile widened as she glanced at the trembling woman.
"She's a whore."
The girl froze where she stood, probably regretting the decision she'd made the moment she climbed into my bed.
"There's nothing wrong with being a whore, darling," Sloane said with a careless shrug. "It's a lifestyle."
The woman's eyes filled with tears. Without another word, she bolted for the door and slammed it shut behind her.
Silence settled over the room.
"How have you been, Carlos?" Sloane asked, her voice suddenly warm. "You haven't been home in weeks."
I raised an eyebrow, giving her a look that said I wasn't buying the act.
"You've got me," she said with a soft chuckle. "I don't really care."
"What do you want, Sloane?" I asked, already growing impatient as she openly stares at my abs.
Instead of answering, her gaze trails shamelessly over my bare chest.
"Now, don't get cranky," she said. "I have every right to look."
"Why don't you come over here?" I smirked. "I might just let you do more than stare."
"Really?"
She blinked innocently before a slow, mischievous smile spread across her face and this was when I knew that she was about to say something stupid.
That smile.
It was always the warning sign that something insufferably clever was about to come out of her mouth.
"Oh, Carlos," she said with a wink. "If you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do was ask."
I glared at her, my heart thudding against my ribs.
She always had something to say.
In all my years, I'd never met a woman as rude, infuriating, shameless, and impossible as......
"Mom and Dad want us to meet them for dinner in an hour," she said, cutting straight through my thoughts.
"No."
I shook my head, looking away from her.
"No?" she repeated, one brow arching.
"No," I said firmly.
"Why?"
"Because I said no."
I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch between us. I didn't think my answer required any further explanation.
"Well, I don't care whether you want to see them or not. They're your parents, Carlos. You should deal with them."
I let out a dry, mocking chuckle and leaned farther back against the headboard.
"You married into this family, Sloane. That means they're yours now, too. You deal with them."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks with a hint of annoyance in her voice
"It means that if I tell you no, as my wife, you should already know what to do next."
I stared at her, wondering whether I really needed to explain how our world worked.
"Excuse me?"
She shot to her feet, glaring at me.
"Now you're really starting to piss me off."
A satisfied smile tugged at my lips.
I loved seeing her like this-a wild tigress poised to tear into her prey. There was something strangely intoxicating about watching her lose her composure.
It actually turns me on seeing her like this, if only I could cross over the room and kiss her soft.....
"You have no idea how stupid I feel showing up there by myself," she said, her voice dropping into a dangerously calm tone. "Your mother already thinks I can't even convince my own husband to attend a family dinner."
"Because you can't," I taunted, flashing her a slow, deliberate smirk.
She didn't snap.
Instead, she slowly sat back down on the couch, her expression turning completely serious. The playful spark in her eyes disappeared, replaced by an icy calm that instantly changed the atmosphere in the room.
"Carlos, this is serious," she said, her eyes locking onto mine with absolute intensity. "Your brother is also coming."
I froze. A deep frown marred my face at the mere mention of my brother, the casual amusement of the last few minutes evaporating instantly.
"Your father wants both Butcher brothers there," Sloane continued, her eyes never leaving mine as she studied my reaction. "So, would you please take a shower so we can leave?"
I let out a long, reluctant sigh.
"Fine."
Not caring in the slightest that I was completely naked, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and strolled across the room toward the bathroom.
I didn't rush.
I took my time, fully aware of her eyes following me.
Knowing she was watching sent an unfamiliar warmth through my chest, throwing my heartbeat off rhythm. It irritated me how easily she could get under my skin, even when I was trying my hardest not to let her.
"You just can't stop staring, can you?" I said, pausing at the bathroom door before glancing back at her with a smug smile.
Sloane didn't even blink.
She held my gaze, her voice perfectly cool.
"Please," she said coolly. "Anyone with boobs and a clit would appreciate the body of a man-especially one like yours."
She tilted her head slightly.
"But that's all there is to it, love."
Fucking cunt.
