Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Carter

Isabella falls asleep on the drive through downtown. Morning traffic doesn’t help her tense, worrisome figure as she curls into a ball far away from me in the backseat, but the fact that she’s been awake all day and night in succession wasn’t a helpful factor either.

“Text my front lobby to have breakfast prepared before our arrival,” I mutter to my driver, Ernesto, his hand finding his phone at once while we’re stuck in traffic. “Enough for two.”

“Yes, sir,” he breathes.

When the text is sent, the light turns green, and I turn my attention to the little dove perched nearby, humming aimlessly through her dreams. She’s so sleepy after sex, so utterly worn out after using every ounce of her energy into taking my cock and pleasing me as I command.

She pleases me a lot too.

“Do you want me to park in the garage underground?” Ernesto asks.

He flickers a look to Isabella, knowing that normally when I pick up a prostitute, I make the sight of them scarce through the lobby and take the service elevator so as not to bring any attention onto my sex life. Needless to say, this dove is far above the level of the whores I’ve brought home before.

“Park out front. I’ll go through the lobby, Ernesto. She isn’t a prostitute. She’s just my personal assistant.”

He nods, tilting his head down in an offer of apology. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean anything by it. She’s very beautiful.”

I look aside, nostalgic jealousy overwhelming my thoughts at once. “She’s very beautiful, indeed.”

He pulls up to the building, and I pull the little dove into my arms, seeing her shift slightly while she turns into my chest, curled into my grasp with such warm affection that I almost, almost, regret using my belt on her as hard as I had. Ernesto opens my door, and the lobby attendant does the same, his puzzled look staying silent while letting me into the elevator.

It opens up into my penthouse on the top floor, and a breakfast cart awaits in the kitchen. I keep the lights down and kick off my shoes while lingering between my bedroom and the guest room.

Something nags me to have her in my bed, to claim her more, but I end up walking her into the spare, setting her down on the real mattress that her precious little body deserves. It’s certainly a step up from the cot she has at her apartment, but after I filled her place with groceries, I figured taking it further and replacing her bed would garner the same petrified reaction.

“Sleep for now, dove,” I breathe into her loose curls, bringing a blanket over her bare legs and tucking it along her hips.

She sniffles slightly but returns to her light dreams while I retreat to the living room.

Tristan is already leaning on my countertop, coming from the shadows of my apartment, where I’m sure he has been waiting for me since our tiff earlier this morning.

We’ve stayed civil for so long that it would be a waste to throw away friendship and business over his utterance of that name. The only downside now is it has been brought to Isabella’s attention.

She can’t know who Brooke is, or else everything between us could all come crashing down.

“I’m sorry, Carter,” Tristan whispers, shaking his head at the memory of our boisterous fight. “It wasn’t my place to say anything about Isabella and the comparison to… well, her.”

“I’m sorry I punched you,” I manage to spit back, although I’m not sorry at all. “It was a cheap shot, and you know I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. But when you mentioned her, it got my blood running hot again, and after everything that happened… I feel rage when I think of Brooke.”

“I know that, and it’s understandable why,” Tristan breathes. “But is it fair to take that anger out on Isabella Julis?”

I furrow deeply. “We just got out of one fight. Are you trying to start another?”

“Of course not, but let’s face it—I saw her back. I saw what you’ve done to her. You’re going to turn her against you eventually if all you do is use her to tame your grief of the past.”

“I’m not in grief,” I bite. “I’m in control. Always. And I’m allowed to be angry, Tristan. If that comes out during sex, then just be glad I keep it at bay during business; otherwise, we would have some very difficult messes to clean up.”

He shrugs, leaning against the countertop of my penthouse with a faraway look in his eyes. “I know how you’ve treated your toys in the past, but this girl is different, Carter. I can see how she affects you. If you keep her around for pleasure, for work, and you continue taking out your anger on her ass, you’ll end up ruining her life.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He leans forward, hands clasped before him in leisure comfort. “She’s too good for you, Carter.”

When I step toward him, my hands curled into fists, he narrows a look at me to stop.

For now, I do.

“She’s a good person, Carter. She pays her taxes. She quit college to help her ailing father, and she took a deal with you, the devil of Manhattan, just so she could keep paying off his medical debt. You’re not an easy man to be around constantly, brother. She could call mercy and walk away from everything, but she is staying out of obligation.”

“She is staying for satisfaction,” I bark.

“She’s only twenty-two. You think she’s scared of losing her virginity after twenty-two years, or do you think she’s scared of the thirty-one-year-old man who murdered a guy in cold blood in the mayor’s office?” He shakes his head in premature victory. “She is scared of Jacob. She is scared of losing the only family she has left to a rapid cancer. But mostly, she’s scared of Carter Blackthorne.”

My throat closes ever so slightly with that claim. “I would never hurt her outside of a sexual standpoint,” I insist. “And if she ever told me to stop, I would, Tristan. Immediately. I’m not in the business of demanding sex, not even from her.”

“How about the business of demanding vulnerability?”

The silence between us is thick. It pisses me off.

“As your business partner, fuck whomever you please, Carter.” He stands straighter, adjusting his coat. “As your cousin and friend, cut the poor girl loose. She is here to help her father, and without that debt looming over her head, she would leave you in a heartbeat for a cushy office job where she doesn’t have to suck the boss’ cock on command.”

I flinch at his advice, warm and familiar anger rising through me at once. “Are you saying I’m exploiting her vulnerability because she feels obligated to do so, Tristan? Who the fuck made you my therapist or my sexual advice counselor?”

He shrugs, shaking his head at this frustrating back and forth. “No one, Carter. But after being the only person to hold a real and functional relationship with you in your whole life, I’d say I know when you’re about to ruin another one really, really quickly.”

He brushes past me to leave, but my irritation with this conversation isn’t done yet.

Not. Even. Close.

“I am the reason Brooke died,” I bite.

He slows his steps to an eventual halt. “You know that’s not true.”

“It is, and I should have protected her better, Tristan. She would still be alive, and maybe, just maybe, she would be with me. But I’m letting that go and focusing on work. The fronts of our businesses, the guns we’re running internationally, and the money we’ve made in this entire family—it’s my priority now. But if I want to come home and have a piece of my past waiting in bed, then that’s for me to worry about. Not you.”

He turns, a light, airy smile breaking across his paled lips. He points to the spare bedroom where my dove sleeps peacefully in ignorant bliss.

“Isabella is not your past. If you keep pushing her into your dark, twisted games, then she won’t be a part of your future, either.”

I wince at the thought, and he notices it.

“Eat your breakfast, take a shower, and relax, brother,” Tristan offers. “Then, when she wakes up, cut her a break for once. Sound good?”

Of course, it doesn’t.

But he’s right. If I keep this up, there won’t be much left of her mind, or her ass, for that matter. I’ve unleashed so much upon her already that doing anything else, taking it one more step further, could spook her off forever.

She needs money, and I’ve even starved her from that for thirty days.

“Deal,” I say, giving Tristan a stocky nod. “But first, take my checkbook to the hospital. Pay off her father’s debts under one condition, Tristan.”

He shrugs, his eyes brightly lit. “Sure. What is it?”

“They cannot tell Isabella Julis that it’s paid for. I want to make sure she plans on staying around at Blackthorne before I cut the only tie I’ve got around her.”

He leaves at once, and his proven point stays behind.

I’ve exploited her need for financial help to get the opportunity to keep me between her cute thighs. But I can’t get her wide, enthralled eyes out of my mind as she swallowed my dick in the office earlier. She not only liked the feeling of being fucked by me…

She loved it.