For one hundred and fifty years, since the day of his birth, he had been prepared for this day and he would not allow himself to blow it over a woman who didn’t want him. She didn’t want him. The more he considered she was rejecting him and his offer for her to be his mistress and all he could give her, the angrier he grew. He suddenly drew himself upright and moved out of the car, slamming the door with more force than necessary.
“Hey, there’s no need to beat up the Maserati,” Cane quipped as he jogged up the drive, sweat teaming off his brow.
“Shut up Dumbcane,” Drake shot back.
“Hey, there’s no need to use full names there, buddy,” Cane’s eyebrows lifted as he groused about his name. “Someone should have put their foot down when she started losing her mind and began naming her child
