Belladonna (Billionaire Boys Club #1)

Chapter 31

"I'm in the middle of something right now."

"I don't give a fuck. Tell whatever girl you plan on fucking that you can't stick it in her tonight."

"For fuck's sake. Why?"

"Stop fucking whining. I'll tell you when we get there."

"Fine."

"I'm coming now. So be fucking ready. I'm not in a patient mood."

"You're not?" His sarcasm would earn him a fist to the face if he was here right now.

I tut and end the call. Throwing a black jacket over my sweatshirt.

The one she had her hands on.

Stop, dammit.

I throw open my door and make my way downstairs and out to my car. Waving away the servant that tries to ask me where I'm going this late and if I'm alright.

What does it fucking look like to you, Enya?

I slip into my car and slam the door shut. Revving my engine and then speeding down the driveway through the now open gate, which closes automatically behind me.

I make it to Angel's house in less than seven minutes considering my speed and the fact that there are no other cars on the road.

He is already outside and walks over to the passenger's side open window. Leaning his arms onto the door. "So. What's all of this fuss about?"

"Get in."

He does and then I am back pressing my foot on the gas.

"You wanna tell my why you're going at an almost sixty or do you just wanna keep gripping the wheel like you wanna choke someone?"

"I don't wanna fucking talk about it."

"So then what do you need me for?"

"Would you stop asking dumbass questions?"

"Ah. That's right. Because I'm your best friend and you need me for moral support."

"Shut the fuck up. I don't need fucking moral support. I'm not fucking five."

"You sure? I won't tell if you cry."

I sigh and speed up once we get to the open road.

Angel takes out his phone and shakes his head. "You made me bail on a good one, asshole."

"Please. We both know you don't give a fuck. Not unless it's that little tornado's equally as little friend."

"You shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're fucking talking about."

"I don't?"

"No. Or should we talk about what you think of that little tornado?"

I don't answer and he smirks. "That's what I thought."

I press on the pedal a little harder and it takes us another fifteen minutes going at a sixty to get to the tracks.