Page 28 of Good Boy

"Maybe I missed you," he said nonchalantly, avoiding my gaze. "Ever think of that?"

"Miss me?" I sneered. "Don't make me fucking laugh."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged, climbed into the driver's seat of the car and closed the door. It was clear he wasn't going to give me any answers, not yet, at least.

So I'd have to play this game a little longer, watching every move Zander made and waiting for the perfect opportunity to call his bluff.

I kicked the bike’s stand back and dismounted, my leather oxfords echoing on the concrete floor as I made my way over to the Rolls. Zander lounged in the driver's seat, hands running across the steering wheel as if he fucking owned it. I slid into the passenger seat, keeping my gaze locked on him.

"Driver," he drawled, his eyes shimmering with something I couldn't quite place. "I didn't mean to break your heart."

"Fuck you," I growled, pulling out my vape and taking a long drag. Memories of that night flooded my brain. Walking in on Zander, balls deep in some other guy’s asshole. It felt like a punch to the gut all over again.

"Did you know your granddad is one lucky bastard?” he asked, his fingers caressing the steering wheel. "They made only a limited quantity. It's a real collector's item."

"Like I give a shit," I snapped, blowing out a cloud of vapor. "Why are you here?"

"Can't a guy just catch up with an old friend?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Cut the crap, and we're not friends." My anger bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to erupt. "Tell me what the fuck you want."

He shrugged and tilted his head back against the luxurious leather. "Maybe I wanted to see if there was still something between us."

"Something?" I mocked. "You think after what you did, you can waltz back in here and pick up where we left off? You're out of your fucking mind."

"Alright, alright, but you have to admit, we had some good times together."

"Good times?" I echoed, my voice dripping with disdain. "You've got a fucked-up definition of 'good,' Z."

"Come on, driver," he purred, leaning closer. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy our little escapades."

As much as I wanted to hop in another car and run his ass over, he was telling the truth. I lived for him at one point. Every fucking breath that left my lungs was for him. He was like a drug, one I refused to get hooked on again.

"You mean fucking me and then tossing me aside like yesterday's trash? Yeah, real fucking great."

"Hey," he murmured, his gaze softening for a moment. "I never meant to hurt you."

"Save it," I snarled, reaching for the door handle. "I'm done playing your games."

"Driver, wait—"

I glared at him, my patience wearing thin. "Go on."

He hesitated, clearly caught off guard by my question. "I came to dinner because my father dragged me," he finally admitted, his voice wavering slightly.

"That's the shittiest lie I've ever heard," I said, not buying his pathetic excuse for a second.

A heavy cloak of silence stretched between us, the tension building with every passing second.

He relented, his eyes darting away from mine. "Cynthia called my father a few days ago, asking for a favor."

I leaned in, eyebrow raised. "Open that shit mouth of yours and start talking."

Zander had always been good at keeping secrets, but he wasn't getting away with it this time.

"I don't know anything about the favor," he insisted, his voice shaking. "I swear."

"You swear on what? Everything that comes out of mouth is a lie and the only thing that ever goes in it is a dick." My irritation boiled over and in one quick motion, I clutched his balls tightly in my grasp.