Untangle My Heart: Book # 2 The Hunter Brothers

by Iona Rose

  In some ways, I admire Matt and Sebastian. They work hard, but they play hard too, especially Sebastian, although he’s calmed down a little since he became a father. Carl is almost two now and fatherhood suits Sebastian in a way I never thought would be possible. I half wish I could be a little bit more like Matt and Sebastian. Just leave my work at the office and worry about it on Monday. But it’s just not my style.

  I’m not the sort of guy who can put off things that need to be done. They only play on my mind and niggle at me, where as if I can just get them done, then I can stop thinking about them. Except one thing always leads to the next and then I start thinking about that. And so it continues until my day off becomes another work day.

  I sigh and shake my head. I don’t know why I’m suddenly being so reflective. I like my life. I like being all about work. I love what I do and it’s going to take more than a few nights in Vegas to convince me that I’m missing out on something more.

  “Hey Chance?” Matt says.

  I look up.

  “It’s a stag party, not a funeral. Smile or something.” He laughs.

  “Isn’t it pretty much the same thing?” I ask. “Once Seb gets married, his life is pretty much over right?”

  This gets a chorus of cheers and a laugh from Sebastian.

  I grin and tell myself to forget work, just for a couple of days while we have the stag party and then get the wedding over with. I can always catch up on work and now isn’t the time for work. It’s the time to be a good brother. I get back up to join the others where they’re still crowded around watching Matt and Sebastian play their drinking game.

  It’s a good thing we have a private jet, because I don’t think a standard airline would take too kindly to this game. The only rule seems to be to sink as many shots as possible.

  “What are they playing?” I ask, taking in the piles of shot glasses and the bottle of half gone Tequila.

  Mark laughs. “I don’t think it has a name. Maybe it should be called alcohol poisoning or something. They have to build a pyramid out of shot glasses. The first person to do it wins and the other one has to drink five shots of Tequila in a row.”

  It didn’t look quite as lethal as I first thought, now I know most of the shot glasses are just being used as building bricks.

  Matt puts his hands in the air and cheers when he sets his final shot glass on his pyramid and it doesn’t fall over.

  Sebastian groans. “Remind me again, why I suggested playing this. I suck at it.” He laughs.

  “Shut up and drink.” Matt chuckles.

  Sebastian shakes his head. “I’ve already lost two rounds. I won’t see Vegas at this rate.”

  “Drink, drink, drink,” the guys begin to chant.

  I find myself joining in with them.

  “Okay, okay.” Sebastian grins, holding his hands up in surrender. He downs the shots one after the other, wincing after each one. He gets to the last one, looking like he’s about to throw up. He chases it down with half a bottle of beer and moans loudly when he’s done.

  This gets him a round of cheers from the guys. He gets unsteadily to his feet and stumbles towards the bathroom.

  An even louder round of cheers rises up with some laughter and clapping. It’s obvious what he’s going to do as he disappears into the bathroom.

  Matt gets up and puts his fists in the air. “Reigning champion. Who’s next?”

  “Me,” I say, surprising myself.

  “No way!” Matt scoffs. “You’ll be able to have the pyramid built in seconds. You do this all day every day.”

  “I’m an interior designer.” I laugh. “What part of that involves building pyramids out of shot glasses?”

  “Ah, you know what I mean.” Matt grins. “Building stuff, designing stuff. It’s all the same thing isn’t it?”

  It’s not even close and I doubt for a second I would beat Matt at building the pyramid, but I’m not bothered about winning. I just want to get a bit tipsy and get into the same high spirits the others are in. “Okay.” I grin. “How about we just pretend we played and you won and I’ll drink the shots?”

  “Really?” Mark says, raising an eyebrow.

  “Really,” I confirm as I sit down.

  Bradley grabs five shot glasses and begins to fill them up with Tequila. He’s onto the fourth one when Sebastian comes back out of the bathroom.

  He still looks a little bit white, but he looks a damned sight better than he did before he went into the bathroom.

  “Are you okay?” Matt asks him.

  Sebastian laughs and nods. “Tactical heave. Bring it on.” He picks up his half empty bottle of beer and starts drinking again, barely even slowed down by his throwing up. He spots me sitting at the table with the shots in front of me. “Wait. You played?”

  “No,” I say shaking my head. “The reigning champ here was afraid to take me on. So, I thought I’d just down the shots.” I didn’t wait for Sebastian’s reply. I pick the first shot up and down it. The Tequila tastes pretty awful, bitter, but I swallow fast and feel the warmth as it spreads through me. I chase it down with the next one and the next one until I’ve drained all five. I smile up at the others.

  They are watching me in a state of shock.

  “What?” I ask.

  Rick laughs. “You didn’t even flinch.”

  “You said you couldn’t drink shots,” Mark adds. “But seriously, you’re on fire.”

  I correct him. “I said I don’t drink shots. Not that I couldn’t.” Considering how little I go out, I actually have a surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol, I just don’t like drinking shots. It seems so frat boy. Immature and not my style at all.

  “Chance’s way too grown up for shots.” Sebastian chuckles. “He’d much rather have a good glass of red wine.”

  Actually, I’d rather have a good glass of rum or brandy, but he’s not completely wrong.

  “Yeah, a stag night is kind of wasted on Chance,” Matt agrees.

  “You don’t say,” I agree. “I did say I would be perfectly happy not to come.”

  “Don’t start with that shit again.” Sebastian laughs. “We’re family. That means you have to show up.”

  “I did show up,” I remind him. “But you can’t pull the family card. You let Dad off the hook.”

  “Well yeah, because he’s Dad,” Sebastian replies. “You really think he’d follow the what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas rule? He’d spend the next lord knows how long reminding us of every stupid thing we say and do tonight.”

  “True,” I say.

  “Anyway, Vegas is hardly Dad’s scene is it?” he adds.

  “It’s hardly my scene either,” I say.

  “Yeah, but you only think you’re ancient and past it. You’re twenty-four, start acting it.” Matt laughs.

  I snap. “Just because I’m the youngest, doesn’t mean I have to be the dumbest.” I realize I’ve made everyone feel awkward as I snap at Matt. “You know being the dumbest is Sebastian’s thing. This is his night, so let’s not try to take his title,” I say with a grin, quickly turning the mood back around to laughter.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we hit the strip tonight and you’ll see just how dumb I can be,” Sebastian agrees.

  This gets another round of cheers and another cry for shots.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes, reminding myself this is Sebastian’s night not mine, and when a shot of something neon blue is handed to me, I don’t resist. I tell myself I can do this. I can be the fun one for a few days. God, people do much worse things for much longer periods of time. Going to Vegas for a few days partying is most people’s idea of fun and here I am on a private jet going to stay in a nice hotel and I’m acting like I’m on death row or something.

  We down the shots and the conversation moves on to the night’s plans. And they say I’m the boring one. Who plans a night in Vegas? You leave your hotel, follow the lights and go with the flow. That’s really what Vegas is about.
Living in the moment. Being a bit reckless and doing something you wouldn’t normally do.

  My work phone vibrates in my pocket and I move away from the group to go back to my seat, pulling it out. I glance at the screen and roll my eyes. It’s Dennis Rogers. I’m doing a full redesign for his holiday home. The plans are all done and he doesn’t want the work to start until the back end of next week, and yet he’s never off the phone with me. I debate ignoring his call, but I know if I do, I’ll only spend the rest of this week thinking about what he wants until I call him back on Monday. I take the call.

  “Mr. Rogers. Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “It’s Dennis,” he reminds me. “And yes, everything’s fine. Or at least I hope it is. I got a call from a contractor this morning about them wanting to be in the house next Wednesday afternoon. I’m not leaving until Thursday morning and I’ve told them that won’t work, but they said they had your permission?”

  “Yes. It’s just what we discussed. They won’t be starting any of the work. They just want to come out, get the keys from you and have you show them how the security system works. Remember? You said Wednesday would be the best day for you?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course. I remember now. Sorry to have bothered you,” he says.

  “It’s fine, really, you haven’t bothered me,” I lie.

  “Oh. There’s just one more thing,” he says.

  “Go on,” I say through gritted teeth. Before he can respond, my phone is being snatched away from my ear.

  Sebastian grins down at me with my phone in his hand.

  I glare at him.

  He ignores me as he looks at my phone and then puts it to his ear. “Hi, Mr. Rogers. This is Sebastian Hunter. Chance is actually taking the rest of this week off for a family thing, and he’ll call you on Monday.” He ends the call.

  “What the fuck? That was a client,” I snap, angry now.

  “I know. Mr. Rogers. And you can tell him on Monday what an asshole I am. But for now, you can forget about him, forget about work, and have a good time. You were doing so well there for a moment.”

  I roll my eyes and hold my hand out for the phone.

  Sebastian holds it out of my reach, mocking me. “Seriously Chance, you promised you wouldn’t be working through my stag night.”

  I continue to glare at him but it has no effect on him whatsoever. I sigh. “I told you I wouldn’t work while we’re in Vegas. And we’re not in Vegas yet.”

  “That’s a technicality and you know it,” Sebastian counters.

  His little game is starting to piss me off now. Of course, I want him to enjoy his stag night but I honestly think he can have just as good a time if I take a phone call. He’d probably have had a better time if he’d just listened to my protests and let me sit this one out.

  I snatch for my phone but Sebastian sees me coming and whips it back out of my reach. He throws it to Matt who catches it with one hand and promptly dumps it in a pitcher of water.

  “For fuck sake!” I snap. “Have you two got no sense between you or what?”

  Matt just laughs. “It’s only your work phone,” he points out. He peers down at the water. “It’s not even your current one. Just have one weekend where you’re not working. Is that really too much to ask?”

  It probably isn’t. It definitely isn’t. But the point Matt and Sebastian are missing is that I want to work. I’m not doing it because I think the world will stop turning if I take a couple of days off. I’m doing it because I enjoy it. I like to be kept in the loop. Trying to explain this in a way that doesn’t make me sound like I’ve lost the plot, isn’t going to be easy though and I just shrug. “Fine. Whatever. You’ve made the decision for me now, haven’t you?” I get up and turn towards the bathroom.

  “Chance, wait,” Sebastian says.

  I turn around, stupidly thinking he’s going to apologize, but then I see he’s grinning.

  “Matt said that’s not your current work phone. Hand it over.” He holds his hand out.

  “So, you can put it in a jug of water? I don’t think so,” I reply.

  “I swear I won’t,” he says. “I’ll put it somewhere safe until after the weekend.” His hand is still out and he’s blocking my path.

  I know it’s going to be pointless to argue with him, so I take my other phone out of my pocket and slam it into his hand.

  He pockets it and keeps his hand out, raising an eyebrow at me.

  I sigh and pull out the third and final phone and give him that too. “If you think you’re getting my personal phone, then you’re very wrong,” I say.

  He grins and shakes his head. “Nah, you can keep that one. It’s not like you have a hip and happening social life, where you’ll be getting calls on that one is it?” He laughs.

  I shake my head in annoyance and storm away from Sebastian and his stupid taunts. I lock myself in the bathroom, put the toilet lid down and sit on it for a moment. God, why can’t I just be normal and enjoy a boozy weekend with the guys?

  I stand up and wash my hands in cool water. I tell myself that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Right after I get to the hotel, sort Mr. Rogers’ problem out and deal with a couple of other things.

  Chance

  When we arrive at our hotel, we agree to all go up to our rooms, freshen up and meet back in the lobby in two hours. Two hours sounds like an awfully long time to me and I think Sebastian secretly wants to take a nap before we head out, but I bite my tongue. It will give me time to get things in order and make a few calls from my room before we go out. And then I can keep my promise to Sebastian and stop working.

  If he hadn’t acted like an ass on the plane and took my phones away my work would be done now, but then lord knows, how I would have filled the next two hours.

  My room is on the eleventh floor and I step out of the elevator into a nice, clean looking hallway. The walls are painted off white and the flooring is a thick red carpet. Gold light fixtures are set at even spaces along the way. The gold is a little gaudy in my opinion, but hey, it’s Vegas and that’s Vegas isn’t it? Over the top, gaudy, cheesy. But a good night out.

  I reach my room and step in. The room itself is nice and elegant looking. A large bed with a pristine white duvet takes center stage in the room. A black runner sits about three quarters of the way down it. There’s a black leather sofa beneath the window with a small table beside it. The wardrobe is a built in one with mirrored doors, and there’s a pine chest of drawers and bedside cabinets. Opposite the bed is a large desk with a TV on one end and space to work at the other. I grin to myself when I spot the phone. That will stop me from having to use my personal phone and risk clients getting my personal phone number.

  I peer into the bathroom which is all tiled in white with the occasional black one scattered in that breaks up the white and stops the room from looking too clinical while maintaining the clean, pristine look they’d been going for. There’s a large double shower and a Jacuzzi bath, both of which look shiny and clean.

  As rooms go as opposed to suites, I’ve stayed in much worse. I open up my suitcase and quickly unpack my stuff. I find a pair of fluffy white robes hanging in the wardrobe. When I’ve finished unpacking, which takes less than ten minutes, I go into the bathroom and strip my suit off. It feels good to finally lose the suit as it’s so hot out here. I take a shower and go back to my main room.

  I get dressed for tonight in a pair of black ripped jeans and a pale blue t-shirt. I run my hands through my hair, mussing it up a little and add a spritz of Armani and I’m done. A full thirty minutes after arriving at the hotel.

  I go to the mini bar and grab a rum. I add a couple of ice cubes and take it to the little table beside the leather sofa. I pick the phone up and move it to the small table. The cable just reaches and I grin to myself. Something had to go right for me work wise.

  Before I begin working, I sit down and sip my rum, looking out of the window. I have a fantastic view of the strip and even though it’s barely started to ge
t dark, lights flash everywhere. It really is the perfect place for a stag night and as I sip my drink, I promise myself that once we get out tonight, I will forget about work altogether.

  The decision made, I pick the receiver up, dial nine for an outside line, and call the office. I get the phone numbers I need and program them into my personal phone when I realize I don’t have anything to write them on.

  I call Dennis Rogers back first.

  “Chance?” he says, surprised when I tell him it’s me. “Your brother said you were taking the weekend off.”

  “Please excuse Sebastian,” I say with a laugh. “It’s his stag party and he’s a little out of control.”

  “You’re at his stag party and you’re working? Seriously, this can wait until Monday. Have a great time and have a drink or two for me.” He ends the call before I can argue with him.

  I frown a little. Even my clients are telling me to ignore work for a few days. If only it was that simple. I shake my head and smile to myself. If I’d spent my time slacking off, partying and dating, then I wouldn’t be where I am now. I joined the firm straight out of college and I’ve worked my ass off ever since to prove that I’m the best at what I do in the city.

  I think I’ve proved that. My clients always come back to me, and my services are booked in advance for the next year. I know deep down I have nothing else to prove and I know if I took a step back, the talented designers who work alongside me would be able to do a great job, but it’s just not me. Why would I have worked so hard to get to where I am if I just wanted to slack off and hand my work off to others? If that’s all I’d wanted to do, I could have taken a more corporate role but the thought fills me with horror. Being stuck in an office all day and never getting to do anything creative is my idea of hell.

  I make a few more calls and then I check the time. I have about twenty minutes before I have to meet the others and I pick the phone back up to make one more call. I listen to it ringing and then a female voice asks how she can direct my call. I give her my name and the name of my client and she asks me to hold for a moment. Dreadful hold music fills my ears.