Sparrow by L.J. Shen Page A

but not with nearly as much disgust as six years ago, when he first started working for me. “Does your new wife know how sick you are?” Disapproval dripped from his voice. He still didn’t look up.
    “Probably, if she’s got half a brain.” I mentally added, but your wife knows exactly how sick I am .
    His fingers stilled on the keyboard, and this time he did look up. “Don’t feel obligated to act like an asshole to her.” He was talking about Sparrow. “She didn’t do anything, and it’s bad enough what you did to her mother.”
    My fist tightened around the ice pack. I slowly raised my chin, a patronizing smile on my face. “Mind your own fucking business, Greystone.”
    And before he could retrieve some of his pride, before he could answer back, I turned around and walked out the door.
    I’d leave him a note to replace that golf club later. Treat him like he was the secretary. Like a waitress at Hooters. Then I’d take him out for a beer. After all, we were friends, weren’t we?
    Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, they said. Brock’s leash was shorter than my temper, and I made sure that I was always three steps ahead of him.
    And that I always had the upper hand.
     

     
    I FINISHED OFF the disastrous day by paying a visit to Catalina, thinking I’d let off some steam and give her a piece of my mind about Sparrow’s inappropriate wedding gift.
    Catalina was my Friday piece and only long-term mistress. Tonight was an unscheduled visit.
    It was a risky thing, like anything else worth doing. Brock worked late at the restaurant on Fridays. I always made sure he was extra busy those days so I could play with his wife, even though a part of me really did want him to find out.
    Tonight, I wasn’t in the mood for fucking. Maybe it was the Callaway, and maybe it was the fact I knew I’d be going back to a penthouse full of Sparrow, a chick I didn’t know or like. Hell, maybe it was just me growing bored with my mistress’s crazy antics.
    Catalina was a virus encased in a sexy dress. Easily spread, but you know that shit is bad for you. There was a time—it was long ago—that she made me believe she was an innocent little lamb, in need of rescuing. Today, I knew she was the person people needed to be protected from.
    Either way, I was feeling extra devilish. “Kneel,” I ordered coldly when she walked into her dark bedroom.
    She jumped, surprised and startled by my presence, but then quickly dropped to her knees, her breath already growing heavy. I pushed myself off the window sill I was leaning against, closed the short distance between us and slammed the door shut so her son wouldn’t hear. Her cleavage rose and fell with the rhythm of her breaths. She wanted this so fucking bad, it was almost a turn-off.
    Looking down at her, I unzipped my pants. “Now suck.”
    She didn’t budge. The bitch wanted to play, but I wasn’t game. I repeated my request.
    “No. Do me first.” Her voice was shaky.
    My jaw twitched. I didn’t have time for this. Fisting her dark hair from the base of her skull and yanking her closer to my junk, I murmured, “If you won’t, Sparrow will. I’ve been meaning to test-drive her.”
    Her lips pinched, and she drew a long breath before moving her face to my cock. A quivering hand wrapped around my shaft.
    My threat had worked. Cat had a problem, and her problem was me. I was her ambition, her love, her hate and every other feeling occupying her cold little heart. It was sad, but true.
    After I came, I zipped up before she even had the chance to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Slumping onto the floor, she dragged her gaze up to see if I’d return the favor.
    I was not a good lover. Always took care of myself first, never thought twice about the women I was with. Women overlooked my moody behavior and shortcomings because I never gave them a chance to object. And Cat? She fucking lived for my cruelty. Loved it, lusted after it. The more monstrous I