The Billionaire Brothers

by Victoria Villeneuve

  She sat heavily on the bed. “Shit.” It was time for a level-headed reality check.

  Ok, let’s be rational here. What exactly has happened, and how do we react?

  “I dated this complete prick who ditched me when his schedule got too full,” she whispered to the wall.

  Sounds like a bona fide loser. Why did you date him, then?

  “He has,” Megan said with the sureness of one speaking only to herself, “lots and lots of money.” She paused, unwilling to be dishonest to herself. “And he fucks like a rock star.”

  She almost giggled at the profanity – one she kept purely for Tom’s ears in those moments as she approached her climax – but pushed on with the self-interrogation.

  Beyond sex and money, was there anything else?

  “He seemed like a decent guy. And I felt as though I could trust him, having known him since I was a teenager.”

  He pulled the wool over your eyes, then.

  “Yes. He has been deceptive, there’s no doubt.”

  There were probably other women, during these six silent weeks.

  “Not a lot of doubt about that, either,” she admitted ruefully. “He’s a creature of habit.”

  So, how does he stack up to Tom?

  “Not at all,” Megan answered in her firmest whisper.

  Would you like to back up and re-evaluate that statement in the light of the private jet, the sports cars, and the half-dozen, unforgettable, insanely orgasmic sexual marathons?

  “No.”

  I think you should.

  “So, he’s a good fuck. And he has money coming out of his ears.”

  And is a philanthropist. And a world traveler.

  “And a serial monogamist who discards women like worn-out razor blades.”

  Good point. Not a stable partner, like Tom. But... do you remember how exciting he was?

  Megan ruminated for a long moment, almost despite herself, but permitted the thought in the interests of a fair and balanced enquiry. “OK, so there were a number of passionate and delirious sex sessions,” she remembered out loud. “They were fresh and very sexy...” She paused to amend the record. “Unbelievably sexy.”

  That’s right. Remember the plane? Kneeling up and gazing out at the stars while he...

  “I remember the goddamned plane,” Megan retorted. Then, the sensations of that night began to return. “I remember... getting so wet.”

  Because he’s a gifted seducer. Who likes pulling off your panties in mid-air.

  “And the way he kissed me,” she recalled in a whisper which became softer as the memory pervaded her ever-willing body, “down there... the way his tongue felt on me...”

  Now you’re truly remembering. Put yourself there. He slid your dress up, remember? And then...

  “And then took me, hard and quick, in my big first-class seat.”

  And do you remember how you came? After he had finished?

  “I was... sucking him.” It was like a confession. Saying it out loud brought no forgiveness, though, only intense desire.

  With his fingers inside you.

  “Deep inside,” she added.

  Megan?

  “Hmmm?”

  What are you doing, honey?

  Megan suddenly opened her eyes and glanced down. “Oh you bad, bad girl,” she whispered in self-admonishment. Her panties were pulled aside and three of her fingers were already very slick.

  Yeah. What happened to ‘fair and balanced’?

  “Shit,” she said again, deciding to spend a few minutes in the bathroom cooling off and washing the scent of excitement from her hands.

  Shall we resume?

  “No, it’s true that there is no objective measure by which he compares favorably to his brother.”

  Who you’re in love with.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  You don’t have to. I’m your subconscious, the true arbiter of your emotions. I know everything.

  “So you’re saying Tom is the right one because he made me fall in love with him?”

  No-one made anyone do anything. You love him because he’s ideal for you.

  “Couldn’t Jake have done the same, if he’d stayed around?”

  Probably. But here’s what I really think... He’d have given you a couple of years of fantastic sex and a lifestyle most girls would die for. And then... You know exactly what would have happened.

  “We can’t be sure.”

  Guess, then. But put it into words. I want to hear you say it.

  She sighed, flopped back onto the bed. “He would have ditched me for a younger model.”

  Literally.

  Why, Megan asked herself in those quiet moments of intense reflection, are men so driven by their procreative urges? Of all the behaviors which could define them, why were their sexual behaviors so dominant, so unreasoning and base and hurtful and senselessly self-serving?

  Bastards.

  “Not all of them. Not Tom.”

  Tom’s never going to let you down, is that right?

  “He’s human! Like every man.”

  So, in that respect he’s no better than Jake? Yet another man destined to screw up.

  “Yeah, but,” Megan challenged, “when Tom screws up it will be something annoying but hardly world-shattering, like forgetting an anniversary until the last moment, or being too busy to help me move boxes into my new lab. When Jake screws up... Well, there’ll be screwing.”

  Under your nose, and behind your back. That is always their way.

  “Bastards.”

  So, can we reasonably reach a decision here?

  “I think we can.”

  Do we drop-kick Jake so hard he knows never to try this disrespectful bullshit again?

  “I think we do.”

  And do you go over to Tom’s place tonight and make love to him like he’s the only man you’ll ever want?

  Megan stood, and brushed her hair in front of the mirror. “Exactly.” She grabbed her phone. “But first, let’s give Jake the coffee date he wants.”

  ***

  It simply wouldn’t have been Jake’s style, Megan thought to herself, if he’d suggested meeting at a Starbucks like everyone else. She’d felt obliged to fix her hair and put on a blue skirt and white blouse before heading to Cafe Firenze, an up-market place near Boston’s Copley Square, and doubtless one of Jake’s favorite places for impressing a lady.

  “Well it’s not going to work on me,” Megan muttered quietly as she was shown to her table. At 2 pm on a Tuesday, the stylish cafe wasn’t particularly crowded. Megan scanned the photographs of old Italy which hung in a sequence around the walls, forming a contrived, if quaintly atmospheric, origin story. The steamy hiss of the cappuccino machine and Frank Sinatra quietly crooning in the background set a tone Megan began to like, at least until she remembered why she was there.

  Jake looked somewhat less than his usual, confident self as he sauntered into the cafe. He wore an eggshell blue shirt and neat, new jeans, somewhere close to under-dressed for a place like this, but Megan doubted that he cared. He found her with a relieved sigh and took one of the slender, metal chairs opposite her.

  “Thanks for coming,” he offered.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you order?” They quickly selected coffees and then Megan took a moment to silently regard the alluring but deceptive young man across the table. There was the immediate sense that Jake was about to be hauled onto the carpet and told, in no uncertain terms, what the world’s women thought of him. Part of Megan relished the chance to deliver this reprimand. Another part feared she would simply clam up, end up having dinner with him while he explained away his strange absence, and later find herself once more pressed passionately against his kitchen counter.

  “Jake, we need to talk.”

  “Oh?” He seemed surprised despite Megan’s obviously frosty demeanor.

  Her coffee arrived and she ignored it while Jake settled himself by stirring in a sachet of brown sugar. “You
need to know, Jake,” she said, “that women don’t tend to like it when you begin a relationship and then simply vanish off the face of the Earth.”

  Jake responded as it affronted by the accusation. “I was traveling an enormous amount during those weeks, Megan. You know I was in Manila, and...”

  Bad way to start, young man. “St. Louis.” The city’s name was almost a threat.

  “At first, yes, and then they sent me to the Philippines and while I was over there it made sense to hit a couple of other places where we have business. By the time I knew what was happening, a week had gone by.”

  “Six. Not a week, six weeks. Do you know how it feels to be given the cold shoulder like that?”

  He was pleading, his tone becoming a little desperate. “If only you’d seen how crazy things were.”

  Megan finally sipped her coffee, which was strong and bitter, not unlike how she felt at that moment. “Things were pretty crazy around here, too. You know that Andrea went missing while you were enjoying your travels?”

  Jake rushed to his own defense. “I knew about that, and I was as scared as anyone. You understand that I called as soon as I heard, right? And I and shortened the trip so I could get back as soon as I could.”

  Megan snapped back. “And then lengthened it again once Andrea was found safe. Am I wrong?”

  Palms open, Jake made a bid to apologize. “You didn’t need me. I’m just the fun uncle. Tom said that you two had everything covered. To be honest, I thought I’d just be in the way.”

  “In the way of caring for a distraught girl and a father – your brother, Jake – who had been out of his mind for a whole night and a whole day... You didn’t seem what it did to him.”

  Jake’s hands were up in a defensive, but also conciliatory, gesture. “No one cares about them both more than I do, Megan. Please understand. This is my family we’re talking about. I genuinely believed that things had settled down, and that I’d catch up once I’d finished the trip. Important things were happening over in Asia... I know you don’t care, but some of this stuff has really global implications and...” Jake found himself silenced as suddenly as if there were a knife to his throat, all because of Megan’s intensely stony glare.

  “Shut up.”

  “OK.”

  Megan was furious, pale fists balled on the table top, her back ramrod straight, her eyes condemning him as though vile and unearthly. “You’ve been an asshole. And I want you to damn well admit it.”

  “Freely.” His hands wiped the slate clean in mid-air. “I admit that freely. I’ve been thoughtless and distracted by the Asia trip, and I’ve taken you for granted. Worse, I let down Tom and Andrea.”

  Megan’s rock-like posture softened slightly at this open apology. But then, her suspicious side insisted on knowing more. “And were there any female distractions on your Asia trip?”

  Jake’s face was a picture of genuine surprise. “Now, that’s below the belt. Just because I have a reputation... I mean, I may be a poor communicator, and a thoughtless S.O.B, from time to time, but that doesn’t mean I’d do anything like that.”

  Lips pursed, Megan’s skepticism hardly needed voice. “Like you say, you do have a reputation.”

  “Megan, please!” he said, his body language suddenly firm, as if he meant to stand. “You can call me all the names you want, but I never saw anyone else while I thought we were together. I promise you.”

  She glared at him, as furious as ever. “I take promises like that very seriously, Jake.”

  “So do I,” he said firmly, “and that’s why I made it.”

  Clattering spoons, chattering clients and Frank Sinatra were the only sounds for a long time. Both took a sequence of deep breaths. Finally, Jake offered the best and simplest solution. “I’m sorry, Megan.”

  “Good,” she replied, quieter now. “This was avoidable, you know.”

  Jake took a long, refreshing pull on his coffee, as if dependent on it. “Regret is a killer, Megan. I’m going to have to live with that.”

  “You are. But don’t let it kill you.” The very first hint of a smile made Jake feel better than he had since showing up at Megan’s door.

  “And I’ve blown it so badly that you’re with someone new now. Got to live with that, too.”

  Be careful. One wrong step and the whole thing could come crashing down. “I’m not the girl for you, Jake. She’s out there, but she’s not me.” Megan seemed faintly apologetic. In truth, she felt sorry not to be able to offer Jake what he needed, especially as he had provided exactly – and very memorably – what she had most desired. At least at the time.

  “So, where did you meet this lucky man?”

  Megan harrumphed dismissively behind her coffee cup.

  “Oh... I’m sorry... Is she a lucky lady, in fact? I didn’t know you...”

  Megan smacked down her porcelain cup in a sharp interruption witnessed by the whole cafe. “Do you like morals, Jake?” she asked almost primly, in stark contrast to her violence with the cup. The clientele returned to their conversations, some rather disappointed to be deprived of further spectacle.

  “Morals? Like, helping the blind across the street, that kind of thing?”

  “Fables,” she explained patiently. “Little moral principles which can guide us in life.”

  “Er... Sure.” Having done so well, Jake felt things slipping away from him.

  “My favorite one,” she told him, “is this: If you’re walking on eggs,” she said, eyeing him closely, “don’t hop.”

  “No hopping,” he assured her. “No, Ma’am.”

  “Then quit asking and satisfy yourself that you’re not the only nice man in the world.”

  “So it would seem,” he said rather sadly.

  “And I’m not even sure you’re nice,” she said, teasing him.

  Jake took her hand, to Megan’s surprise. “I’ve done the wrong thing, and I’ve paid for it. You don’t have to forgive me, because you’ve found happiness elsewhere now. I’m going to try not think of what might have been, and just go on, like everyone has to.”

  Who the hell is this guy?

  Megan patted his hand in a gesture intended to be much more friendly than anything romantic. “Thank you for saying that, Jake. I’ve been angry with you, and I’m still angry, but provided you shut up now and don’t say anything else stupid,” she said, piercing the word with emphasis, “then we can be amicable friends.”

  “I’d like that very much,” he said, contented.

  “Friends with no benefits whatsoever,” she articulated clearly.

  “Hearing that loud and clear.”

  “And friends who never ask about each other’s love lives,” Megan added, stating the only rule which mattered at the moment. The less you know, the less you’ll talk to Tom, and the less chance he’ll yell at me for being idiotic enough to date you in the first place.

  Jake held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a scout,” she countered.

  “Junior astronaut’s honor,” he tried again.

  Megan found herself laughing, wagging a warning finger at Jake. “Don’t you be getting funny with me. I know your sort.”

  Behind Jake, Megan noticed the door open and man wearing a suit enter the cafe. The change in her facial expression was so shockingly sudden that Jake turned to follow her gaze.

  “Oh, well, how about that?” He stood. “Tom? Over here.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Tom approached their table looking cautious and uncertain, a vibe which was decidedly un-Tom. “Hey, Megan... Hey, Jake... I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said to his brother. “I’m between meetings in the John Hancock Building and I guess I wondered if Megan was downtown.”

  “Wow,” Jake exclaimed. “You must have Megan-radar or something. That’s uncanny!”

  “No,” he explained, face still furrowed with worry and confusion. “You checked in on your phone app.”

  “I did?” Megan asked, amazed. Sh
e checked her phone. “It’s set to automatic... Sorry, I didn’t know I had to change it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, it’s just nice you happened along, Tom.” Jake said breezily. “I was actually on my way out. Why don’t you take my place?”

  Megan swallowed a bilious knot of distaste. “Great.”

  Tom took Jake’s seat as though expecting it to drop through the floor into a fiery pit. “Thanks, Jake.”

  “Ciao, you two. Tom, see you at Connaught’s office for that breakfast on Friday?” His brother nodded slowly. “Megan... Good to catch up. See you soon, I hope.”

  He left with his usual breezy energy and then Megan was faced with a Tom who was very obviously perplexed. And very rightly so.

  “This is a nice surprise, Tom,” Megan said, leaning across to kiss his cheek.

  He smiled thinly. “It is... I was hoping I might find you alone. Sorry if I was interrupting anything,” he said carefully.

  Now you’ve done it. Next time, switch off your goddamned phone.

  “No, Jake was really about to leave when you arrived. We were just catching up.”

  Tom regarded her curiously, as if somehow trying to read her aura, or to hear the echoes of the conversation just passed. “Megan, I’ve got to ask you... And I’m sorry to do this, but...”

  Oh, fuck.

  “What?” she asked, hoping an earnest manner might deflect the question outright. But no.

  “Is there anything you think I might need to know?” he asked. Megan was silent, holding his gaze. “About you and Jake?”

  The silence continued but Megan’s eyes fell to the table. You just gave him the guilty look. He knows, whether you tell him or not.

  “I think maybe there is,” she admitted quietly, her eyes downcast. “But you need to listen to the whole story before you say anything, OK?”

  Tom nodded, his gut knotted with that singular and piquant emotion caused only by the sense that his lady might not be entirely his own. It spread outwards from his solar plexus as Megan described their meeting, that seemingly innocuous moment when Jake picked up Andrea from Megan’s apartment after her piano lesson. And the date they went on afterward. When the critical moment came, Megan could barely open her mouth to utter the words.