Page 67 of Brutal

My suspicions about why he’s been acting differently the past few days are all but confirmed, though.

“Let’s take that picture,” Drake says cheerfully, acting like he didn’t even notice that he just crushed her hopes and dreams of seducing a billionaire on his day off.

They take a selfie, after which Drake comes back towards me. I can see the woman lingering, contemplating another photo, but somebody else guides her away.

“Does that happen often?” I ask mildly.

Drake shakes his head. “No. People in New Bristol know how to mind their own fucking business.”

“Or they realize that you aren’t anything special,” I say, deadpan. When he frowns at me, I stick out my tongue at him. “Kidding. New Bristolers are just used to rich and famous people being out and about.”

The stylist looks curiously at us, but as soon as she notices me looking at her, she goes back to my hair.

“I’m not actually famous,” Drake tells her. “I’m just rich.”

Like she couldn’t already figure that out from his show right when we’d entered.

“And modest, too,” I add.

He grumbles, but I catch his smile. “Are we done yet?” he asks.

“Another hour,” I tell him. “You can do some sightseeing in the meantime if you want.”

Drake shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll stick with you.”

He takes my hand, as if he’s worried that I’ll disappear on him.

I could reassure him.

But I let him hold my hand for the rest of the hair appointment instead.

CHAPTER 17

Drake

“Did you have to bribe someone to let you use their yacht rental slot?” Mimosa asks, looking out at the harbor. At night, from our current place in the ocean, it’s nothing more than an array of bright lights. Even the Ferris wheel is barely visible.

The wind whips through Mimosa’s new, gradient blue hair. It suits her. It’s colorful and creative, and it’s attention-catching.

Just like her.

“Nah.” I step in closer and wrap and arm around Mimosa’s shoulders. “They had an open slot. Apparently luxury yachts don’t get booked full all the time.”

Mimosa snorts in amusement. “Too expensive for even the ultra-rich. What’s this economy coming to.”

“I know, right?” I agree, squeezing her shoulders. “It’s a travesty.”

Out here, where there’s no one to interrupt us, it’s peaceful. There’s no place for thoughts of work or even casual cruelty. It’s just something romantic and… Well, utterly beyond my usual sphere.

It’s not that I wouldn’t mind hurting her, or that I couldn’t — the yacht crew wouldn’t step in, and I could pay them well enough for their discretion — but there’s something about seeing her relaxed that appeals to me.

Relaxed, and maybe even a little content.

I like it.

I like her.

“Irene would probably kill to be here,” Mimosa says softly. “She always daydreamed about luxury cruises. Or maybe one of her johns already took her on a trip like this.”