CHAPTER 4: MIKE AND TASHA

MICHAEL

"You were supposed to call me the moment you found her!" Aaron yelled at me through the phone. I couldn't help but remind him that I was two years older than him.

"So, did you?" he asked impatiently.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned on the banister of the balcony and glanced inside the hotel room.

"Yes, I did."

"Great! So, how was it?"

"I fucking found her right before those three fucking pigs could molest her in a dark alley," I replied, my voice dripping with scorn.

"What?!"

"She was in shock last night," I explained. "I couldn't talk to her."

"How is she now? Is she okay?"

"Of course, goddamn it, she's fine," I snapped, unable to contain my irritation. "She's with me."

"And?"

"I want to get back at those motherfucking pigs."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on. I thought you said you planned to take her with you and get your money. Where is all this madness coming from?"

That's the question. That's the fucking question.

Why am I so enraged?

People may label me a monster due to my obsession with money and women, but I have never violated anyone. And those fuckers messed with the wrong girl.

"Hello, Michael?"

I heard the bedroom door open and close. The scent of cheap, floral-scented shampoo and soap wafted into the air.

"Hey, are you still there?"

"I gotta go," I abruptly ended the call and entered the room, offering her my warmest smile.

Her angelic face bore a scar from last night's events. The cut on her pinkish lips and her swollen cheek made my fists clench.

I was itching to find a face to punch.

"Simple bacon and eggs with pancakes," I said, pulling out a chair for her. I heard her mumble a thank you.

Chivalry? I never had that. I'm rude, I destroy panties, and I choose violence over sweet candies.

"Now," I caught her attention. "I'm certain I've seen you before." I pulled up one side of my lips, a smirk forming.

Her eyes widened, and she was way too obvious. She seemed like an open book. And by her reaction, only a fool wouldn't understand the situation.

"You were that girl I bumped into a few months ago, right?"

Frowning, she shrugged her shoulders. "I-I'm not sure about that."

Stuttering, cute.

What did I just say?

"You must have forgotten," I waved it off.

"Uh, no, yeah. I remember you," she said with a shaky laugh. "Why were you there anyway?"

Suppressing a grimace, I masked it with a pout. "Well, I was called to chauffeur a newlywed couple, but they canceled. The family said the bride didn't show up."

I wanted to hit the bullseye, and I did.

The way she swallowed hard made me want to burst into laughter and just tell her straight up who I am and why I suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"Tragic," she commented.

"I agree," I replied. "I heard the groom was devastated."

She scoffed, raising my eyebrows. "Probably because he couldn't get the money he wanted."

As if everything that attracted me to her vanished when that confident comment slipped from her lips.

"I heard that the groom was selfish and only cared about money and women. I think the bride made the right choice to leave."

Making sure not to glare at her, I took a large bite of the pancake and chewed it harshly.

"I mean, poor girl," she added.

"Yeah," I reluctantly agreed. "How about you? Why were you there? Were you a bridesmaid or something?"

"Me?" She pointed to herself and forced a laugh. "No, I'm not."

The expression on her face rang the bell of a defense mechanism, and I was going to burst out laughing as soon as she looked away.

She's a terrible liar.

"I was, uh, visiting a friend who works there. She was at the reception and, uh, yeah!"

"I remember you were in a hurry back then."

Her eyes darted from left to right as she swallowed hard. "I was in a bad condition that day. And, I swear, you don't want to know about it."

I didn't need to ask; I already knew why.

"You know, I'm sorry," I changed the topic. "I didn't know where you lived, so I brought you here to my apartment."

"Uh, no, it's fine. You shouldn't say anything. You saved me," she waved her hands in the air, indicating that I should feel her gratitude.

Speaking of gratitude, I liked the way she thanked me. Although it would have been better if she kissed me with her tongue.

"I'm pretty sure anyone would have done the same," I replied, trying to sound as cool as possible.

"And this dress fits perfectly," she smiled.

My eyes roamed over her body, covered in a lovely sundress. I had picked the right size when I changed her clothes.

Damn, I had to jerk off and take a cold shower after seeing her body.

I must say, my cousin and the twins were right about her. She's a fucking catch. A fresh cunt. I wonder how many men ravished her softness.

My jaw clenched upon that thought.

Her skin, like porcelain, exudes a delicate softness that begs to be caressed. Every inch of her being emanates an air of elegance and refinement, a testament to her privileged lineage.

It's undeniable, she possesses an exquisite beauty that captivates me.

She is a rare gem, a treasure I want for myself.

I wonder how I'm going to spend the whole night with her if we end up saying 'I do' at the altar.

"Glad you like it," I breathed. "So, are you from around here?"

"Yeah, New York is my hometown."

"And your family?"

She avoided my gaze, letting it fall on my wrist, and said, "I can't help but notice, that's a Rolex watch."

I paused for a moment, cursing in 33 languages. I had forgotten to take it off.

"Second-hand, bargain," I excused. "Got it for a grand."

"Oh," she mouthed.

She didn't want to talk about her family. Who would? She left her family because she didn't want me.

She called me selfish. But isn't she selfish too?

"That's where you live?" I leaned forward to get a better look at the apartment.

"Yeah, thanks for the ride. I've bothered you enough," her soft voice ignited my wild side. It turned me on.

"Hold on," I caught her hand before she could leave. "We've been talking for hours, and I forgot to ask your name."

"Oh, uh, it's Tasha," she answered.

Extending my hand, I offered it to her. "Mike," I settled for the nickname as I introduced myself.

I'm sure she has heard of Michael Montero. If I told her my given name, she might have passed out.

Accepting my hand, she shook it.

The touch of her soft and graceful palm met the hand I used to jerk off. Now that's what I call balance, even-steven.

"It's nice to have you around," she nodded, and I mirrored the gesture.

I stared, I didn't realize I was doing it, but I was.

"Mike?"

"What?"

"My hand."

I didn't want to let go, but I had to.

"You're adorable." She used the strangest word to compliment me, but when she said it, my system glitched.

She leaned in close and kissed me again. It wasn't just a quick peck, but a lingering one. Shallow, without tongue. But it felt amazing.

"Thanks again." She hopped out of the car and jogged to her apartment.

"What the fuck, Michael. You're such a fucking pussy."

I was about to leave when my eyes landed on three familiar faces that I wished I could erase.

"You messed with my bride, you mess with me, motherfuckers."