Becker and Jill are already inside, and I can’t wait to dissect what just happened with my best friend. The only problem is that Brian hasn’t left my side—hasn’t given me even a minute to myself to chat in private with Jill. He keeps introducing me to people, tugging my arm, keeping me close. How the hell he already knows all these people when he’s only been in town for a month is beyond me.
I want to ask him about that encounter with his sister, but I don’t even know where to start.
We eat, we drink, we dance, and the only time I get a moment alone is when I’m in the restroom, but Becker has Jill tied up the same way Brian’s had me tied up. They’re in the middle of a conversation with a couple of middle-aged businessmen in the spare moment I find myself alone, so I don’t bother to interrupt. We can talk at home tomorrow.
Brian texts his sister when we’re getting ready to leave. “Shoot,” he says once he gets her reply. “Looks like she already turned in for the night.”
“Too bad,” I say. “I’d love to chat more with her. She seems sweet.”
He just gives me a tight smile, and then we head back to my place…of course.
Chapter Fifteen
“My brother’s having a few people over tonight since my sister’s in town.” I can’t quite get a gauge on Brian’s mood. He’s never been easy to read, exactly, but ever since we met up with his sister, he’s a damn enigma. We’re sitting on my couch in front of the television. Sitting is sort of a loose term. I’m sitting, and Brian’s laying across the couch with his head cradled against my lap. He’s facing the television as I stroke his hair.
“Okay,” I say lightly, hoping he’ll give me some insight into his frame of mine. “Sounds fun.”
He clears his throat. “I was thinking of not going, of having a night here, just you and me and a bottle of wine.”
Heavy disappointment settles into the pit of my stomach, but I mask it. “That’s fine. Whatever you want.” What I want to ask is why don’t you want to introduce me to your brother? Why don’t you want me around your sister? What changed between us?
“I don’t want you to think it’s about you,” he says softly, as if he can read my thoughts.
“Think what’s about me?” I ask.
“It’s them. Him.”
“What’s him?”
Brian sighs. “My brother is one of my best friends. We’ve just always had this extremely competitive relationship.” He untangles himself from my lap and sits up. When his eyes meet mine, my heart twists at the vulnerability in his. I’ve never seen him like this. “He has this way of charming women and wanting what’s mine, and he always gets what he wants.”
I press a palm to his cheek. “Brian, if you’re worried I’m going to run off with your brother, don’t be.” I keep my voice low and genuine. “I would love to meet your family, to learn more about you.”
He nods, fear replacing the vulnerability in his eyes.
“It doesn’t matter what he wants.”
“It doesn’t?” Brian asks.
I shake my head, my lips tipping up in a smile. “It doesn’t,” I confirm. “I don’t care how charming he is. I’m yours.”
“You’re mine,” he says softly. His eyes darken. “That’ll just make you more attractive to him.”
“Well you’re the brother I’m falling for.”
He blinks in surprise. “Falling for?”
I nod and brush it aside even though my cheeks burn in embarrassment. I can’t believe I let that slip out, no matter how true it is. “You don’t even know that he’ll try anything with me.”
He grunts out a laugh. “I know my brother. He’ll try, for sure.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re exactly his type.”
“And what type is that?”
“Sexy, brunette, smart. Legs for days. An ass that won’t quit.” He reaches over to grab one of my breasts. “And these. God, these.” He closes his eyes and I giggle. “He’ll want you, Reese, and I’m terrified he’ll go after you. I’m terrified you’ll want him, too, that you’ll leave me for him.” He’s pleading with me, and it tears a little piece of my heart. I wish he would let me in and tell me what’s happened between them in the past, but I don’t want to press more information out of him when clearly this is difficult for him. All I can do is assure him where my allegiance lies.
“I won’t,” I say, my voice fiercely adamant.
“Promise?” he asks.
I take his hand and loop my pinky finger around his. “Promise.” He takes me to the bedroom then and we seal our promise with much more than just our pinkies.
* * *
“Becker said there’s some big surprise tonight,” Jill says as we get ready for the big party. I’m working on my make-up while she curls her hair. We’re both still in our bathrobes and sipping occasionally from glasses of wine.
“I’m a little nervous,” I admit.
“Why?”
I shrug. “Brian was weird about me meeting his brother. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night, but we ran into his sister right before the event, and he kept shooting her weird looks.”
“What kind of looks?”
I brush some blush on my cheeks. “Like shut up kind of looks. Like he was silently telling her not to say anything.”
Jill’s brows draw together. “I wonder why.”
“We might find out tonight. Don’t you think it’s strange that neither of us has been to their house even though we’ve been seeing them for over a month?”
Jill shrugs. “Beck told me it’s crowded and loud all the time. He said it’s nice to come here and just relax.”
“Did you know they were all staying with Brian’s brother?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. He told me he was staying with Fox and Jason, but he didn’t mention the brother.”
“So weird. I wonder why it’s all so hush-hush.”
“Boys are just weird sometimes, you know?”
I nod and roll my eyes. “Ain’t that the truth?”
I’ve got a nice buzz going from the wine when Brian and Becker pick us up. Brian seems a little distracted and out of sorts as I sit up front with him while Becker and Jill talk quietly in the backseat.
Brian signals off the highway then maneuvers the car onto the Strip, which strikes me as very odd. I had no idea they lived in the heart of the action.
Traffic is slow, and all the red lights and honking horns do nothing good for the anxiety I feel as the car carries us closer to our final destination—wherever that may be. I get the sudden feeling in the pit of my stomach that this is a bad idea. If Brian wants to keep me away from his brother, he has his reasons, and I should respect those reasons.
He turns into the Mandarin Oriental. Anxiety presses heavily on me as my mouth goes dry.
I’m not ready to be here again. The Cosmopolitan was a little close for comfort a few weeks ago, and the Aria last night reminded me of that night again, but to be back here again with a different man…it’s too much.
I had no idea Brian was living at the Mandarin, but now that we’re pulling into the valet station, it makes a whole lot of sense. That morning I left Mark’s place and ran right into Brian and he helped me pick up all the shit that fell out of my purse…of course this is where he’s living. I was stupid not to make that connection before.
I take a deep breath and hold it in for a five count. I need Jill beside me because she’s the only one who might possibly understand what this means—being back here. It’s been well over a month, but that night still haunts me, and as I look around me at things I’ve seen before, flashes of Mark and our night together ghost through my mind. All the images that’ve been burned into my memories start attacking my brain from different angles. The feel of his lips against mine, his fingertips dragging up my thigh. The taste of his peppermint breath and the smell of his sandalwood skin. The view of the Strip and the view of him stripping. His velvet voice in my ear.
Brian ge
ts out of the car and walks around to my side. He opens it and holds out his hand. I’m trembling as I slip my hand into his, scared to go into the building that holds so many painful memories that all trickle back to one unforgettable night.
Becker and Jill get out of the backseat and join us. Jill’s wide eyes meet mine, and she reaches for my hand and squeezes it in silent reassurance. Tears spring to my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I can’t. I’m here with Brian, to meet his brother, to make new memories—as desperate to wash away the old ones as I am to cling to them.
We walk through the doors toward the elevator, and it’s all very familiar as the ball of anxiety in my stomach feels like it may burst. Brian pushes the button to call the elevator. We get on the same car I traveled down that morning I left Mark’s place, and the haunting memories are right at the surface, filling the back of my throat with nausea. That same feeling of giddiness mixed with shame the last time I rode this exact elevator rushes over me.
The hotel only goes up through the twenty-third floor. When I got on the same elevator car with Mark, he pressed the button for the forty-seventh floor. The top floor. The penthouse. He told me there were other suites up there, too, and when we exited the elevator, we turned to the right and entered the door in the corner, the one marked 4701.
I assume Brian will press any button from twenty-four through forty-six. Never once does the idea enter my mind that he might hit forty-seven, and when he does, a searing pain squeezes my chest. I don’t want to be so affected by this—I don’t want to hold that connection between Mark and me so close to my heart still, not after all this time has passed, not after I’ve started a relationship with another man, not after I’ve started falling for another man.
But I do.
I take a deep breath, pushing away the images of Mark slamming me up against the mirrored elevator wall, shoving down the feel of his mouth on mine, our breath mingling and our bodies craving.
When we get off the elevator, I assume we’ll turn to the left. It’s the only option. When we turn to the right and Brian leads me to the door marked 4701—the same door I walked through just over a month ago, my heart stops. My ears buzz. My chest hurts. My stomach lurches.
It’s not possible.
“Your brother lives here?” I ask, my voice trembling. I sense that Jill is somewhere behind me, but she can’t have any inkling of what’s going on in my head.
“Yeah,” Brian says as he turns the knob and pushes open the door. He might’ve nodded to answer my question, I’m not sure—I can’t bear to look at him, can’t bear for him to see all the emotions my eyes surely hold, can’t bear the thought of going through the door and facing what—who—is on the other side. Instead, I focus my eyes on the door, trying everything in my power to forget, to let it go, to push one leg in front of the other and act like everything’s normal.
But it’s not.
I fell in love with a rock star the last time I was here. How the hell was I supposed to know I’d fall in love with his brother next?
Chapter Sixteen
When Brian pushes open the door, every nuance from the night I last passed through this same door rushes back to me.
Jill pulled out her press pass plus the pass she borrowed from a friend for me after the show, and voila…we were backstage.
She led me through a series of hallways before we landed in front of a door with a temporary sign that read VAIL. She flashed her pass to the guard like she’d done this a million times, and I followed suit. My hands shook as I held up my pass. The guard eyed me for a second as nerves danced around my stomach. I could swear he was studying me, looking at me differently than he looked at Jill. He could tell I wasn’t with the press. I had some look about me that must’ve said what I was doing was wrong.
He was going to confiscate my pass, we were going to get kicked out, and Jill was going to get in big trouble. Oh, fuck, how much trouble? Could she get fired for this, for sharing a press pass with a friend instead of an actual member of the press? He shook his head and chuckled, but then he opened the door that allowed our entry into Vail’s dressing room.
Instead of the nerves subsiding when the door opened, they only grew into waves that darted through my entire body, from the tips of my tingling toes to the tops of my buzzing ears.
The first thing I noticed were the women—mostly blondes. All had hair longer than mine, legs tanner than mine, and breasts bigger and faker than mine. I don’t know what I expected. I don’t even know if I had an expectation in my mind, but this seemed about right.
I glanced around the room, and my eyes landed on him immediately. Mark Ashton, the whole reason I was back here, stood off to one side of the room wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.
My breath left my body and I choked on a gasp.
The body I’d seen so many times in pictures was standing right in front of me. The tattoos I’d easily be able to pick out of a crowd marked his perfect skin. His feet were bare, his dark hair was damp as if he just stepped out of the shower, and his chest and abdomen were a mass of chiseled muscle. He was lean, though—not big and bulky, but limber and perfect. My mouth watered at the same time my throat dried. My face felt all hot, like I was blushing uncontrollably and involuntarily, and the wave of heat traveled through my body and into my blood.
In the periphery, I knew the three other members of the chart topping band were in the room. A party was in full swing; voices hummed around me over blaring rock music. A group of people started chanting as one of the guys from the band chugged a beer—Ethan, the drummer. He slammed the can to the ground as he finished then grabbed the blonde standing next to him to shove his tongue down her throat. But I couldn’t focus on any of that because my entire being was laser-focused on Mark Ashton, as if there was no one and nothing else in the room.
He held his phone to his ear as he spoke to someone—probably the reason he set himself apart from the group that had formed in the room. It was too loud for me to hear his voice. He held a glass tumbler with amber liquid in his other hand, and a blonde woman hung herself around his neck, clinging to him. He was paying her no attention, though.
He glanced in our direction as I followed Jill into the room as if this was all perfectly normal. He said something into the phone and ended the call, sliding his phone into his pocket with his gaze focused on me. He said something to the woman hanging on him, and she stuck out her puffy lower lip in disappointment before she let go of him and headed over toward her friends who were standing by Ethan.
Jill stepped right up to him as if meeting the biggest rock star on the planet was an everyday occurrence. She’d schooled herself to fangirl on the inside because of her position as a reporter. I had no such training.
“Jill Hart from the Sin City Sun,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake his and ignoring the glares from the women across the room. “I just have a few quick questions.” He stepped toward her and shook her hand, and a dart of jealousy passed through me. She got to touch him.
Little did I know what the night had in store for me.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, his eyes moving over to me. “A colleague?” He let go of Jill’s hand.
“I’m a huge fan,” I blurted, restraining myself from throwing my arms around his neck. Jill shot me a dirty look. The whole agreement we had that I’d keep my cool flew right out the window.
He chuckled. “Oh, I’m a fan of yours, too.” His voice sent a tingle through my chest and my cheeks burned even more than earlier.
“Wha—what?” I stuttered.
“Blue eyes, dark hair.” His eyes trailed from my face to my torso and down my legs, burning me and branding me as they moved. “Long legs…yeah, I’m definitely a fan.”
Jill shot me another dirty look as my cheeks flamed. I wasn’t sure if she was shooting me dirty looks because he was flirting with me and she wanted it to be her or because she was trying to interview him and he was ignoring her.
“Are you with the media,
too?” he asked me.
Was he asking me because he planned to kick me out if I wasn’t? I shook my head, suddenly too dumbstruck and mortified to form actual words. Is love at first sight possible? Because I was pretty sure it was love.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Who was I kidding? I’d been in love with this man for ten years. He was my teenage fantasy come to life right there in the flesh in front of me. And he was talking to me—like his mouth was forming actual words that he wanted me to hear.
Oh, shit. He was talking to me…as in, I was supposed to respond.
“Reese,” I managed to say.
“Like the peanut butter cups?”
I nodded.
“You know what they say about peanut butter cups, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
He grinned, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest. “Sweet on the outside and creamy on the inside.”
My face continued to burn like the fucking moron I am, but words—and my brain—failed me.
“Mm. Isn’t their slogan something about how there’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s?”
I usually have ten sarcastic comments at the ready for cheesy lines about my name, but somehow coming from Mark Ashton, they didn’t seem so cheesy.
I stood in stunned silence that this rock god was even looking at me, let alone paying attention to me and flirting with me. He kept firing lines at me, but he didn’t need to. He didn’t have to say a word to me—he could’ve just shot me one smoldering glance, and I would’ve dropped my panties for him.
He lifted the amber liquid to his lips, and my wide eyes followed the path of the glass.
Something came over me in that moment—something that told me this was my chance. I couldn’t think of a time I’d wanted something more than I wanted Mark Ashton right then, that night. I wanted an invitation to his place. I wanted to be the woman he brought home with him. I didn’t know how these things worked, though. I saw him with a different woman in every gossip magazine I’d ever picked up, but I wasn’t sure if he approached the women before he brought them home or if they asked.
Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire Page 53