Page 15 of By His Vow
“Of course,” I lie, holding my head up high. “It’s just a year, right? It’s no big deal.”
“Tate, it’s a massive fucking deal.” Anger laces every word that falls from his lips.
“Has Mom said anything?” I ask, finally reaching for my UGG boots and roughly pulling them on as if this whole thing is their fault.
“Not really. She’s gone to bed.”
“Good for her,” I snap. “Maybe I could do the same and sleep for the next year.”
“I knew you weren’t okay.”
“Miles.” I sigh, hanging my head as any fight I had drains out of me. “I need to go and get drunk.”
I barely get the final words out before he scoops up my bags, throws them over his shoulder, and all but drags me from the house.
“Me too, Tate. Me too.”
“Deliver those back to Tate’s, yeah?” Miles asks of our father’s—his—driver, Leo.
“You’ve got it,” he agrees before closing the door behind us and getting back in the driver’s seat.
“I’m not dressed for this place,” I complain as I look up at my favorite cocktail bar.
“I rang ahead. We’ve got a back room, so no one will know.”
I smile, more grateful for my big brother in this moment than he could ever know.
With his arm around my shoulders, he ushers me inside, and in only minutes, the music playing in the bar gets quieter and the door to the private room closes behind us.
Low, soft lighting fills the room and I make a beeline for one of the three velour teal couches that surround an industrial-style coffee table in the middle.
Needing a distraction, I pluck the menu from the middle of the table. I don’t need it. I know the menu here by heart. But it’s either read this or continue obsessing over my current situation. I know which I prefer.
“What’s it going to be?” Miles asks, having already pressed the button to call a server.
“I would like,” I announce firmly, “five screaming orgasms.”
“T-Tate,” he splutters.
“What? I’ve just been told that I’m going to have to be celibate for a year. I think I deserve them.”
“You have to…” Miles shakes his head as he lets those words sink in. “They can’t ask that of you.”
“Why? Because I’m a whore?” I’m not sure if I’m joking, and neither is he, from the way he studies me after the words spill from my lips.
“Tate, that’s not?—”
“I’m kidding. I think. But seriously, how fucked up is this?”
He makes to answer, but a soft knock on the door, and then our server entering, stops him.
“Good evening. What can I get for you guys?” she asks, her eyes locked on Miles the entire time.
I roll mine as I sink back into the couch. Miles is hot, even I can admit that. But watching woman after shameless woman hit on him gets old fast.
“Five screaming orgasms, a scotch, and one of every sharing plate on your menu,” he orders, eye-fucking her just as much as she is him.
Give me fucking strength.