The Billionaire Brothers

by Victoria Villeneuve

  “After the date I... stayed over at his place.”

  Tom recoiled. Jealousy’s knife lacks the clean quickness of a razor’s edge, he immediately found. It is, instead, the dull, numbing gut-punch of a rusted steel. This, too, spread through his body and froze him in a pained statue of shock and anger.

  “Megan...”

  “Tom, listen to me. You said you would listen,” she beseeched him. Tom nodded gravely, steadying himself for worse to come.

  “We went on a few dates, all very extravagant, you know... Jake likes to throw money around.” Tom was staring, motionless, at the tablecloth. “And then he just disappeared. You remember?”

  Tom was holding back a great deal when he spoke, Megan could see. “I speak to Jake about twice a month on the phone, and around once a month face-to-face. Even that is in a meeting with a dozen other people. Every time he calls, he’s in a different time zone. If he’d disappeared, I’d almost be the last to know.”

  This is not getting easier. “Well, he disappeared from my point of view. Six weeks went by without a word.”

  Now Tom began to see. He met Megan’s eyes for the first time since the beginning of her painful disclosure. “Even for him, that’s pretty callous.”

  “And then he just turned up at my door this afternoon as if nothing had happened.”

  “Expecting to get back together?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know,” Megan half-lied. “I was very frosty to him, but I guess I decided he deserved the chance to explain himself. Did I do the wrong thing?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him not to be angry.

  Tom rubbed his face slowly. “I can’t say I like the idea of you together,” he said. “It’s... Well, it’s very new, and it hurts.” He fixed her with pained eyes. “It hurts a lot.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling tears beginning to well up. “I wasn’t dishonest with you, I promise. When we first got together... that was weeks after I’d last seen Jake, and I was certain he’d just dumped me, like the others.”

  The hurt and confusion on Tom’s face gave way to something worse; jealousy and anger were conspiring to overwhelm him.

  “So, you figured you’d just switch to the other brother? Never even break up with the first one?” Tom’s anger flared like a fire given fresh oxygen. “And then, knowing how this would upset me, you just kept it a secret? Would you ever have told me?”

  Terror and shock gripped Megan’s body like the cold grip of a malicious giant. “Yes...” she managed to say. “Of course. I just... “

  “I really thought we had something there, Megan,” he said more mildly, reaching back for his jacket. “I thought that we trusted each other enough to be honest.”

  Aghast, frozen in disbelief, Megan couldn’t breathe. She wanted to scream at him but no sound came.

  “And you didn’t feel that I deserved to know that...” He stopped and leaned in close to her, lowering his voice. “That you had just been fucking my brother, weeks before we got together?”

  Tom stood abruptly, slid on his jacket and left in a cloud of red anger. Megan watched him cross the street, walking hard and fast.

  Within her own cloud, Megan slowly found breath. It came in, but she could barely exhale, and it became a sob, then another, and then she was crying at her table as though broken in pieces.

  ***

  Erica busied herself with the traditional last-minute preparations for date night. Tight, green cocktail dress – check. Perfume fit for seduction – check. Hair up, perfectly in place and smelling of that new herbal concoction Erica had given her on her birthday – check. Keys, phone, tiny purse... All set.

  Now, where the hell was Megan?

  Her friend had been hidden in her room since before Erica returned from the early shift. She hadn’t knocked, assuming Megan was just taking a long nap, but as 6:30 rolled around, she began to worry just slightly. She checked the time, made sure she wasn’t going to be late to meet Kevin at the bar, and gave Megan a soft knock.

  “You OK, hun?”

  There was a sniffling sound from behind the door. “Yeah, fine.”

  “I’m going to be out with Kev, OK?”

  “Have a good time,” Megan said flatly.

  “You sure you’re OK?” she asked, prepared to be yelled at rather than risk leaving Megan in some kind of emotional distress. She’d already gone through a few permutations in her mind, but assumed things with Tom were as wonderful as ever.

  “Yeah, just got the flu. Feel a bit miserable. I’m just going to sleep, don’t worry.”

  Erica checked her appearance one last time, found it sexy beyond that which any mortal man deserved, and headed out.

  Megan was curled in bed, the very image of self-pity. Discarded Kleenex littered the floor; she had more in one hand, and her phone in the other. It had been this way for about an hour. The conversation she was being obliged to hold with herself was circular and unproductive, resulting only in new waves of emotional pain. But it continued, seemingly despite her, and would not stop.

  You blew it.

  “It was bad luck. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Tom doesn’t see it that way.

  “He’s angry, understandably, and needs time to process this. He’ll come around.”

  What if he doesn’t? What if you’ve really crossed a line here, and there’s now no going back?

  “He’s a reasonable person who loves me,” Megan argued, determined to gather the actual facts, rather than speculate. Her imagination was too vivid for her guesswork to lead anywhere other than fresh pain.

  He’s a complex man who has already been through the worst trial imaginable: losing his wife. You’ve given him reason to believe he was betrayed, only a month into his first new relationship. Way to go.

  “What did I actually do wrong?” Megan asked her naysayer side.

  You should have been honest with Tom from the outset.

  “He’d never have gone out with me if he thought he was playing second fiddle to his brother,” she argued, correctly. “Besides, Jake was a quick fling. We never talked about the future.”

  Which makes you look all the more shallow and avaricious.

  “Fuck you.”

  She dried her eyes and took a long, deep breath. Sitting alone like the girl in the anti-depressant commercials, crying by her window while a rainy, grey afternoon dragged on, would not, Megan convinced herself, be in any way helpful. What she needed was to take action. She needed advice, and to plan the way forward, not sit and stew in her own regrets.

  ‘Need to talk to you about something. Are you at home?’

  She swung out of bed and drank a whole glass of water in one refreshing pull.

  ‘Of course. I hoped you’d reach out. Want me to pick you up?’

  Megan grabbed a towel and fresh clothes and headed to the shower.

  ‘No, I’ll find my way there. A drink would be nice.’

  ***

  Jake answered the door with one hand, while the other held a crystal wine jug which sparkled with boozy promise.

  “You know what a girl needs,” was Megan’s choice of conversational appetizer.

  Jake smiled, a little surprised. “That’s never a bad thing to hear.”

  She showed herself in and slumped into Jake’s gigantic black leather sofa. “I have had,” she explained slowly, “a seriously shitty day.”

  Jake set the jug and two tall, stemmed red wine glasses on the coffee table at the center of the sofa’s huge L-shape before taking a seat next to her. “Argentine Malbec. Supposedly it won ‘best in show’ somewhere important. To be honest, I just liked the label.” He poured two very generous glasses and handed one to Megan. “What shall we drink to?” Jake asked, raising his glass.

  Megan shook her head sadly. “Here’s to drinking until it don’t hurt no more.” They clinked glasses and Megan took a large draft of her wine. “Thank God.”

  “Not bad,” Jake opined. “Nice balance of fruit and spices.”
/>
  “What I enjoy most about this wine,” Megan said candidly, “is that it has alcohol in it.” She curled up on the sofa, legs tucked under her, and pulled down her skirt to cover her knees.

  “That it does,” Jake agreed. He would never have been seen dead wearing the sweatpants and baggy MIT shirt he’d been wearing when Megan called, and so had changed into jeans and a casual, russet button-down shirt. He noticed that Megan had taken some – but not that much – time to get ready before heading out. He’d always enjoyed it when her hair was still a little wet.

  “So, you and I kinda bumped into your brother there, in the cafe.” Megan winced at the memory, yet again. “We need to talk about him, and me, and... me and you.”

  Jake set down his glass, his brow furrowed. “Well, I didn’t know about you two, but it makes so much sense that I’m catching up quickly,” Jake said. “But he didn’t know, did he? About us?” Megan shook her head and took another large gulp of wine. “I’m sorry it was secretive,” Jake admitted. “Maybe we should have told him, at the beginning, but it wasn’t an easy choice.”

  “The way I thought of it then,” Megan explained, “was as if I were something like his sister, telling him that I had dated his best friend.”

  “Yeah,” Jake nodded. “Awkward as all get out. And there’s Andrea.”

  Another massive gulp. “Which would be weirder? My dating her dad, who employs me to teach her piano, or dating her uncle, who she sees as the fun, single, jet-setter?”

  Jake shrugged without looking dismissive. “I literally don’t know. It’s an impossible situation.”

  Megan had nearly finished her glass, so Jake topped her up. “Here’s what I want to understand,” she said, turning to him. “You two are business partners, and for all the world the closest team there could ever be. But it’s not like that, is it?” Megan endured the silence and felt the need to clarify. “You barely speak, actually. Isn’t that true?”

  It was Jake’s turn to drink deeply. “We’ve had our differences.”

  “About women?” Megan asked.

  “Not exactly... More, well... Lifestyle choices. The way we spend our money. The way we like to be portrayed in public.”

  “You’re different characters,” Megan conceded. “Couldn’t be more different, in some ways. Yet you work together so closely.”

  Jake hurried to swallow and then quickly countered. “Our teams work closely together. We have very little actual face time at work. It’s always been that way. Might sound dysfunctional, but it’s actually very effective. The personal stuff stays out of the office and we’re able to give our best to our projects.”

  OK, this is becoming a little clearer. “But, listen Jake. You need to know how angry Tom is about this. He said...” She bit back a resurgence of the afternoon’s tears. “He said some really terrible things. I don’t know if he meant them all, but he must have a very low opinion of me, now.”

  Jake’s concern was genuine. “I’m sure he’s angry and disappointed. But he’s also realistic, and he knows there aren’t a lot of girls like you out there.”

  Her second glass was almost done. “Flatterer,” she said, smiling but dismissing him with a wave. “I’m just some nurse who teaches his daughter piano.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jake said with conviction. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re beautiful and smart.”

  “Pshh”, was Megan’s slightly tipsy response.

  “You grace everything you wear. Especially your little black dress.” He reached to refill her glass, and top up his own.

  “Seriously,” she said, “any girl can pull off that look. Just need to get your hair right,” she said, tidying her own locks, “and put on a pair of fuck-me heels.”

  “If that was all that mattered,” Jake said, “you’d be right. But you’ve got style, Megan. You can’t buy that. You’re unique and accomplished,” he added. “Look how comfortable you were among the glitterati at Dieter’s restaurant in New York.”

  She gulped more wine. “That was a fun time,” she said, smiling at the memory.

  “And when Andrea went missing, you were the rock. I know you were.”

  Megan reached for his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “Alright, enough building me up, already. What we need to do is calm Tom down.”

  Jake held her hand and the two turned a little, Megan’s knees on the couch, her skirt rising a little up her thigh. Jake tried not to glance down but, as Megan reached for her wine glass once more, he noticed how pale and pretty her skin was. Unknown to her, and not without a jolt of guilt, Jake stroked her inner thighs with his gaze.

  “He’s a sensible man. In a couple of days you’ll get a call apologizing for over-reacting, and calling me a bunch of names. You’ll go out to the best dinner of your life and he’ll take you home and...”

  Megan smirked a little drunkenly. “And...?”

  “And take you to heaven,” Jake finished, a little tamely, reaching over to empty the wine jug into Megan’s glass.

  She immediately took another big swig. “I like heaven,” she said. Her head met Jake’s shoulder and she relaxed into the big couch, leaning into him. Their hands were still intertwined and Megan drew lazy, circular patterns on Jake’s palm. The soft electricity of her fingertips was more than enough to begin a genuine arousal.

  “What do you like about it?” Jake asked softly, his mouth only inches from her ear.

  Megan sighed. “The closeness,” she said. “The openness. Sharing yourself with someone.”

  Jake gently kissed the top of her head and felt her slide in a little closer. “Sharing completely,” he agreed. “It’s the best, isn’t it?” Sure that he could glance down without being seen, Jake took in the view offered by Megan’s ever-rising skirt; her pale inner thighs were a little open, and he let himself look further. A strong surge of excitement lifted his cock as he saw that her panties were a pretty pale blue.

  He kissed her head once more and cleared away strands of dark hair from her forehead, placing a gentle kiss there and stroking the side of her face with genuine affection. Her face rose to him slightly and he saw encouragement in her body language; below, her thighs had unmistakably opened a little further. His kisses traced her eyebrow, to her cheek, to her nose.

  Then his lips were on hers.

  They entered a world of slow, intensely sexy kissing. He chose not to pressure her, waiting until he felt her tongue on his to begin deeper kisses, and then waiting until her hand wandered over his chest and stomach before placing his own on her knee.

  But from there, the pace instantly quickened. He felt real passion in her kisses, felt her responding to his fingertips exploring her thigh, her skirt now around her waist, her tongue ever hungrier for him. His fingertips began to explore higher, searching out the warmth between Megan’s legs.

  Hey, Megan?

  “Hmm?”

  You know you shouldn’t be letting him do this, right?

  “Touch me?”

  All that Jake heard was an encouragement. His fingers traveled higher, within an inch of her panties.

  If you let him, he’s going to fuck you. Is that what you want?

  “Oh God...”

  Megan’s indecision was too easily mistaken for its opposite. Aroused to an almost uncomfortable hardness, Jake was within seconds of touching where he most wanted to.

  “No... Jake... Please... I think we have to stop.”

  For a moment, Jake’s fingers were still. “Are you sure? We’ve always had amazing sex, Megan... Don’t you want it just one more time?” He kissed her again, his arousal unwilling to have him give up so easily, and his fingers sliding along the soft skin at the very top of her thigh.

  “I can’t...”

  “We can go slow,” he said, seductively licking the tip of Megan’s tongue. “As slow as you want to.”

  “I said I can’t.” The refusal was more confident this time.

  Jake’s erection was giving the orders. “I can feel how warm y
ou are, Megan,” he said, his fingers dancing at the edge of her panties. “And how wet...” Their kissing resumed. Megan tried to turn away but found a strong hand cupping her chin, turning her back to Jake’s probing tongue.

  “Jake...No. Please.”

  Megan heard his voice, dripping with sex, right by her ear. “Let me fuck you, Megan. Just once more.”

  Her pussy tensed, but not in pleasure. In rejection. “No. I need you to let me clean up.”

  With the greatest reluctance of his sexual life, Jake’s fingers bid a fond farewell to Megan’s aroused pussy and he helped her to sit up on the couch. A few moments later, at Megan’s insistence, Jake helped her very slowly to her feet. “I can manage,” she said, dismissing her escort half way to the bathroom.

  Ten minutes later, somewhat refreshed but drunk and guilty, Megan emerged. She fixed Jake with a glare which belied her intoxication, a firm, hard stare. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said angrily.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You really, really shouldn’t.” Then she left him standing there, mouth agape, and closed the door with a thud which resounded through the building.

  ***

  Erica sat back on the sofa and rolled her eyes. “Is so.”

  “Is not!” Megan protested from her seat next to Erica’s.

  Erica grabbed her phone and set about establishing the truth. Moments later, she had it. “There! ‘Instagram’ is a company’s name, and therefore needs a capital letter and therefore...” Her gestures bullied Megan into the admission.

  “Therefore it is not allowed in scrabble,” she whined. “But it’s a verb, too!”

  Erica nearly spanked her roommate’s butt in sheer frustration. “So you think you can ‘Instagram’ someone?”

  “Sure you can,” Megan insisted.

  “Bullshit!” Erica sang.

  “Is not!”

  “Is so!”

  “Well,” Megan said, changing tack, ”what about this one? How do you actually spell ‘cognizant’?”

  “Like that,” Erica maintained. With a ‘scent’ on the end.”

  Megan burst into exaggerated laughter, holding her belly and slapping her thigh. “It’s a ‘z’, dumbass!”