Page 204 of Hate to Love You
“You are,” he scoffs before taking a drink of his wine. “If I recall correctly, weren’t you the same guy who had a policy about not fucking the same girl twice? Who said monogamy was a made-up concept of misery, and who swore he’d never settle down with one woman?”
I chuckle.
“I was,” I say nodding, leaning back against the leather booth wall. “But to be fair, you also said you’d never settle down. How’d that ideology work out for you, old man?”
“Careful there,” Jaxon laughs, smiling while cutting himself a bit of his steak. “I’m still young enough to kick your ass.”
“Well, I’m guessing it didn’t age too well, judging by your shiny new wedding band and the tattoo on your left hand,” I say, sarcastically. “Which by the way, thanks for the wedding invitation.”
“We sent you one,” Jaxon shrugs. “Your sister Ana declined on your behalf, saying something about you being in the middle of a hostile takeover or something?”
“Semantics,” I roll my eyes, waving him off. “I trust you weren’t that devastated, and just busy impregnating the girl with the first of many heirs?”
“Yeah, something like that,” he snorts.
“Even still,” I smile. “You caught the monogamy too.”
“Hey, at least I chose a wife who has her head screwed on. Leave it to you to fall for a crazy bitch.”
I shrug with a chuckle.
“What can I say? I like a challenge.”
Jaxon shakes his head, grabbing the bottle off the table and pouring us both a drink.
“And besides, aren’t all women a little crazy though?” I say, picking up my glass of Cabernet and waving it around the table. “You know, if the mood strikes? Or, I don’t know, every fucking full moon?”
“A little crazy?” Jaxon says, dipping his head. “Yes. Absolutely. I’ll argue that any woman can be a little crazy for the right reasons. Sometimes they have to be. Especially where her loved ones are concerned.”
“Well, there ya go—”
“But you just said Abigail isn’t just a little crazy, in fact, you said that she’s actively picking off your men,” he continues, pointing at me as he rests his arm on the back of the booth. “Including your brother-in-law.”
“Yeah, well, I never cared much for the prick anyway.”
“But even still,” Jaxon says, taking a sip of his wine before narrowing his eyes at me. “If that’s true then unfortunately she’s not just a little crazy, Roman…She’s a serial killer.”
He’s blunt, but that’s his nature.
Like Cal, Jaxon Pace has never been the type of man who would beat around the bush, or tell me what he thinks I want to hear just to appease me. He simply states the facts as he sees them, which is also why I enjoy his company, and his wisdom.
Even if I wouldn’t overinflate his head two sizes by telling him as such.
A few years my senior, the successful, and singular Pace Family Mafia heir might not have siblings as I do, but he did have a very similar upbringing, with Jaxon being groomed from a young age to shoulder his family’s legacy and intimately understanding the same pressures of leadership.
It was also Jaxon who taught me the importance of assimilation, having integrated dozens of his legitimate businesses with aspects of his darker and occasionally “shadier” ventures.
My father and his father formed an alliance nearly a decade ago, putting us in touch with one another. Since then, we’ve combined forces on multiple projects, and reaped the mutual benefits. As it stands, he provides me with shipping pipelines and contacts around the world, as well as supplying non-serialized weapons for my organization.
In turn, I provide him a disgustingly low price on high-quality Russian steel contracts for his luxury hotels, the first being his crown jewel, The Jefferson, located back in Chicago.
But all in all, he’s probably the only man alive I trust to have this conversation with.
“Yeah,” I nod slowly, inhaling deeply. “You’re right. Abby is very likely a serial killer.”
I grin, bringing my wine glass to my lips.
“But she’s hot as fuck though.”