He opens the door for me before I can even knock and I hate to admit it, but he looks like shit. Then I catch the scent of expensive scotch on his breath and I want to beat the shit out of him all over again.
“You dumb fuck.” The words leave my mouth again before I can stop them. “What the hell have you done?” I can’t believe he sat here getting drunk without knowing where his fiancée was. A woman with a known medical condition out in weather like this without medication, money, or her phone.
Tony deflates before my eyes as he waves me in. “Where is she?”
“Where do you think? She’s at my place. Why else would I be here? What were you thinking?” I step into him before I consciously make the decision to do so. He throws his hands up, warding me off. Pansy-ass.
“I fucked up,” he admits defensively, scrambling back a step in the hall as I advance another. “I went to a work thing, got drunk, and went home with some twenty-two-year-old.”
“Twenty-two?” I’m incredulous. That’s twelve years his junior.
“She came onto me, man. I was a fool.” He scrubs his hands up and down his face and then back through his hair.
“Was she the first?”
He looks away, guilt coating his features, and Jesus. This is bad. So bad.
“She was… yes. She was the only one.”
“You’re lying to me. I can see it all over your pathetic face.”
“I… she… it’s none of your business how many others there have been. Those women don’t matter. Grace is who I want. Who I love.”
“How. Many. Others?”
“I’m not answering that. How is Grace?” he has the nerve to ask, trying to redirect me.
“How do you think? She overheard your hookup admit to having you go down on her and then fucking her three times. She’s a mess.”
“Daisy said all that?”
“Daisy?” I practically growl the word. “You just throw her name around like that, huh? All familiar like?” I can only shake my head at him. But what I really want to do is wrap my large hands around his trachea and carotid arteries until he either passes out or dies. Whichever comes first. “And why the hell don’t you do that with Grace? She told me all about what a boring fuck you are with her.”
His beady eyes narrow. “She told you that?”
“Yeah, she told me that.” I allow my grin to grow to evil proportions, stepping into him, using my height to overpower. “How do you do that with a stranger and not your fiancée?” It’s really none of my business, but I am curious.
“Because Grace is going to be my wife,” he says like that should explain everything, stumbling back until he bumps into the wall of the kitchen, rattling something in the fridge on the other side.
“I’m not following you, Tony. In fact, you’re just pissing me off more, so you better make sense quickly or I’m going to bury your face in the floor and have you eat a different kind of carpet.”
His head drops and he lets out a breath, his hands going to his hips. “I… I respect Grace, okay? I respect the hell out of her. And I…” Another big breath. “I never felt it was right to treat her like a whore.”
I retreat a step, shocked by his words. Pressing my hand into the wall, I stare incredulously at the man. “You’re messing with me, right?”
“Huh?” He raises his head, searching my face.
“Having crazy hot sex with your fiancée is not treating her like a whore, you dumbass. But you know what?” I pause here, wondering why the hell I’m bothering. “Never mind. You don’t deserve my sage words of wisdom. You deserve whatever hurt and misery you’re feeling. So I’m going to go and pack Grace a bag and then I’m gone.”
I spin around and head to the back of the apartment where I know their master is. Tony is hot on my heels but wisely keeps his mouth shut. I step into her closet, locate a decent size suitcase up on a shelf, and then stare at her clothes.
I have no idea what to take. I grab jeans, blouses that I’ve seen her wear, a shit ton of scrubs that she has neatly folded and even a few nicer outfits including dresses, because why not. I grab nearly every pair of shoes I can. Then I go nuts in her underwear drawer, tossing in whatever my hands touch without thinking too deeply on any of it.
“She doesn’t need that much stuff,” Tony snaps, watching me intently. “She’ll be home in a day or two.”
I want to scoff at that, but I don’t. I just keep quiet as I pack anything else I see. I have no idea if Grace will be back. If she’ll forgive him or not. That’s between them. But I’m packing enough so she doesn’t have to come back for a while.
I brush past him into their bathroom and sigh. Women, right? They have a ton of crap.
But after opening a couple of drawers, I locate a large travel makeup bag and I just slide everything I see in there along with the pills Oliver mentioned, and I’m good to go. Tony steps back, a mournful expression on his face. But like I said, he deserves it. In fact, he deserves a hell of a lot worse for hurting the best woman I’ve ever known.
He’s been screwing around on her for God only knows how long with God only knows how many women, all the while having boring sex with the one woman he should have been treating like a queen. I spot her purse on the entryway table and check it quickly, making sure her phone is in there.
But before I turn the knob on the door, I twist back to Tony who is still right up my ass, face him squarely, and then punch him right in the nose. It makes a delightful crunching sound, his nasal bones fracturing beneath my fist. It hurts my hand something fierce but it’s totally worth it. Besides, I don’t have surgery again until Monday.
Tony lets out a startled cry, his hand shooting up to his face as blood spurts from his nose, dripping down his mouth and chin and onto his white shirt. He staggers, reaches for the wall, misses, and falls to the ground in a heap.
“What the hell, man!” he barks, his hand still on his face.
That one was for Oliver. This one is for me. Bending forward, I rear back and clock him again, this time in the eye. I’m tempted to go at him again though he should have some pretty shiners from the broken nose and fist to the eye that is already swelling up nicely, a cut high on his cheekbone bleeding.
I guess my work here is done.
“You deserve a million times worse,” I seethe at him, pointing my finger so he knows I let him off easy. “I should have kicked your ass until you begged for mercy. Put your stupid, waste of space, loser ass in the hospital but you’re not worth the damage to my hands. You fuck other women because you’re not man enough to fuck yours. Asshole.”
I spit at him, hitting the floor between his parted legs.
And with that, I walk out of his apartment, down the stairs, carrying the suitcase in my hand, her purse in my other, and get back into my car. I let out a breath as I head back across town, flexing the hand I punched Tony with. It feels… good. It has a nice warm tingly sensation that’s a cross between pain and satisfaction. I’ve never punched a guy before, not seriously anyway, not with any real animosity behind it, but I find myself smiling.
My brothers and I used to fight. Five boys will do that, but we never hit each other the way I just hit Tony.