Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

  Trevillo came much stronger this time around, staying focused. Great, now it was beginning to feel like a challenge. Our gazes locked, his blue eyes flashing with a gleam of something indescribable. He then revealed a devilish smile, licked his full, sculpted lips and winked at me.

  Mierda. My breath hitched and my hand faltered a bit, but I hurriedly gathered my wits. Was he trying to use his smoking hotness to distract me? Suddenly I felt murky for being affected by my lover’s brother. This needed to end. “Playtime’s over, Kinky Boy,” I whispered — but it shouldn’t have been a whisper — in a voice that shouldn’t have been raspy.

  I slammed his hand down on the table, much harder than necessary, and turned my back to him in the same second. The room erupted again, everyone seemingly oblivious to the peculiarity of the last sixty seconds — everyone except Trudy who was glaring at me with a “what the hell?” expression.

  Grabbing my half-drunk vitamin water from the vanity, I quaffed the remaining liquid then chanced a backward glance at Trevillo, only to find him staring straight at me. A serious expression on his face, with a slight frown line jagged across his forehead as he slowly pulled down his shirtsleeves. He knew exactly what had happened, and seemed to be just as befuddled as I was.

  Almost imperceptibly, he tilted his head in question. And I returned a subtle shake of my head to send a message that said “not at all”. I was positively, unequivocally, one hundred percent, head over heels in love with Lovello Nelson.

  The deep, resounding sound of Natalio’s voice rocked through our silent conversing like a roll of thunder instantly followed by a strike of lightning. “Trev! C’mon, we need to talk.”

  Both our gazes shot to Natalio who was nailing Trevillo with a death-glare. And I was all too eager to get back in action when the director yelled for me.

  The commercial shoot was overwhelming, and I was growing dreary and drained and ready for it to be over. Alas, there was one last segment before I was free. Once again, I slumped down into the stylist’s chair while she made a fuss of me. Trudy looked bummed, too, as she swept into the dressing room with Tish behind her yammering in pleading tones. I’d warned her but she didn’t listen, and now Tish was being as annoying as constant dripping.

  Trudy plopped down beside me with raised eyebrows that said she was waiting for me to give her some explanation about the Trevillo spectacle. But there was nothing to tell. Some dumb shit happened and it’s now forgotten. At that moment, I was yearning for Lovello. He hadn’t called or messaged me all day and with every tick of the clock, I missed him harder.

  In the same second that I reached for my handbag to retrieve my cellphone, the director’s assistant strolled into the room with two burly security guards in tow, one brandishing a rifle. They came up to me and I ran my eyes over them, wondering what on earth this was about.

  “Miss Axia Blacksille?” the taller security rumbled.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re from Mic Securities. We have a delivery for you and we’d like for you to sign here, please.” He thrust a small monitor towards me.

  As I scribbled my signature across the screen, I asked, “So what’s with the rifle for a simple delivery?”

  The security took the monitor when I handed it back to him and nodded to the other guy. He unlocked what looked like a steel briefcase, withdrew a small, black case and handed it to me. “It’s just orders, ma’am. Any valuables passing half a million dollars have to be heavily secured and delivered.”

  Over half a million? What the hell? From who? My fingers instinctively tightened around the case in a protective gesture. “And this is valued at … ?”

  “1.1 million, ma’am.”

  “Holy shit!” Trudy exclaimed, while the stylist started coughing uncontrollably over my head.

  I, on the other hand, held my composure. I was going to kick Zane’s ass if it was him again. “Okay. Thank you.”

  The guards nodded and bounced out of the room, while Trudy, Tish and the stylist all leaned in with wide eyes, burning with impatience for me to open the case.

  “Would you guys just back the hell up?” I laughed, and they all crackled, too.

  Sliding the black velvet covering from over the case, I opened it and found a smaller velvet case. My eyes were almost blinded when I opened the smaller case.

  “Sweet Baby Jesus, the Star and the Three Wise Men,” Trudy whispered.

  It was a Chopard white-gold watch, square-faced and covered entirely, dial and all, in baguette diamonds. It was exquisite, extravagant, extraordinary. An over-the-top piece of jewelry that some leggy, red-carpet socialite should be wearing. I wasn’t a jewelry person, especially a million-dollar jewelry person. I espied a slim note sticking out from the corner of the larger case that read:

  Anything he can do, I can do better …

  It was then that I knew it was from Lovello and not Zane. Of course, he had to prove a point about Zane’s Cartier necklace gift at my last shoot. My God, the man was ridiculous! Who spends this much on a watch? I snapped the case shut on a huff. Trudy pounced and snatched it from my hands and resumed gawking with the other two. Over a stupid necklace he had to go and do this? Yes, this time I was pissed.

  Natalio’s firm footsteps clocked into the dressing room. He’d vanished from the shoot with Trevillo for some time now. “I heard there was security and shit here?”

  Pointing at the watch that Trudy and the stylist chattered over, I yelled, “Your brother’s impossible!”

  Natalio, hands in pockets, walked towards us in his cool, confident strides, peered down at the exorbitant piece of jewelry and shrugged. “Looks a lot like Love to me.” Then he merely sauntered from the room.

  Okay, so all three brothers were impossible!

  Then I wondered, did Natalio’s statement have a double meaning? Was he saying it was a lot like Love, as in Lovello, to do things like this? Or was he intimating that this gesture was a lot like someone in love? Oh, how I wished it were the latter.

  I fished for my cellphone and typed a quick message to Lovello:

  Are you INSANE????

  A few minutes passed before he replied:

  Only because you make me …

  And I replied:

  This wasn’t necessary. It’s way over-the-top and screams insanity. You could have wooed me with something less extravagant, like, let’s say, something ten to twenty thousand dollars in value? The cockiness needs to stop!

  His reply was instant:

  You’re not a ten-thousand-dollar girl, beauts. You’re my million-dollar prize. Know your worth and stop bitching. In the middle of a meeting now, señora loca.

  See you later?

  I didn’t reply. Of course I wasn’t going to see him later. The man was unreformable and overwhelming. A few minutes ago I was aching for him, now he had me fuming with his superfluous extravagance. Yet, all I could think about as I closed my eyes and tossed my head back on the chair was: Lo amo, Lo amo, Lo amo.

  XVIII

  “ … we all come to the end of our lives as naked and empty-handed as on the day we were born. We can’t take our riches with us. And this, too, is a very serious problem. People leave this world no better off than when they came. All their hard work is for nothing — like working for the wind. Throughout their lives, they live under a cloud — frustrated, discouraged, and angry. Even so, I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life…”

  Expelling a contented sigh in Lovello’s chest, the deep vibration of his lungs traveled through me as he read verses of Ecclesiastes to me. We were snuggled up on our favorite sofa in my living area, our ‘winding down’ after arguing for over an hour about his ridiculousness with the million-dollar gift, and with him accusing of me being difficult and unreasonable by avoiding him all evening over a simple gift. Simple, he says. Simple!

  The culmination of our arg
ument, however, was being enmeshed in passion, steamed with aggression and simmered with starvation for each other. Our final destination after a sexed-up shower was here, cuddling together on the sofa in a Bible read. Weird, right?

  Lovello was dedicated. But he’d never questioned if I prayed or not. He knew that I didn’t even own a decent Bible and even brought me one, but he never questioned if I read it. He didn’t force anything on me and I appreciated that.

  My father’s a firm believer in Christianity. However, I’d spent the majority of my formative years with my mother after my parents’ divorce, and she never once spoke about God. I’ve found myself to be the same, just living one day onto the next without caring who rules the earth or who keeps me alive. I don’t think I can ever remember even uttering a word of prayer in my life. I wouldn’t know how to even begin. When Lovello reads verses from the Bible to me, though, it was always enjoyable and issued such profound wisdom for me to latch onto. So, if he was the one to lead me to truth and wisdom — even though he was somewhat hypocritical with his more than immoral life — then I’d follow.

  My cellphone hollered for about the fiftieth time since we’d been here, causing Lovello to pause on an impatient breath. Knowing that it was Tish again, I rejected the call and signaled for Lovello to continue. Tish had been ringing me all evening to ask the same question, “Is Trudy there with you?”, and had been receiving the same answer, “No. Trudy has a number, call it.” I figured that Trudy’s innocent lead-on had given Tish high hopes that were now deflated, and now an annoyed Trudy was trying in earnest to avoid her. There was no mistaking the hostility that Trudy kept spewing at her today at the shoot. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep Tish from following her around like a lost puppy.

  “Tish again?” Lovello asked.

  “Hmm hmm. Gosh, she’s annoying. This is what happens when you get friendly with your workers.” It was only because I treasured Tish so much that I hadn’t flipped out yet. She was a trustworthy, dependable, ready-on-call assistant. I’d not lose her. No way.

  “Why doesn’t Trudy just tell them she’s moved on? I guess she likes the chase,” said Lovello.

  Huh? “Tell them who, what? Chase?”

  “Tish and Carla.”

  Double huh?? Bracing up on my elbows, I brought my gaze to meet Lovello’s. He looked so serene with his facial muscles relaxed, eyes warm and droopy, hair tousled and sticking all about. “What’re you talking about with Tish and Carla?”

  Lovello tilted his head to the side, frowning at me as if I’d grown a third nostril. Then his eyes widened a fraction. “Don’t tell me you don’t know, Axia. I’ll never believe you.”

  “Know what?” I asked, barely balancing on a thin thread of patience.

  “That Trudy’s a dyke.”

  An incredulous snicker flew through my lips. “Yeah, right. You’ve got jokes. Back to reading, Pretty Boy.”

  It was Lovello’s turn to chuckle with incredulity. “I can’t believe you have a best friend and don’t know she’s crooked. Axia, I dare say you might be the only one in SF who doesn’t know that.”

  So shocked, my heavy tongue couldn’t even form words to speak. Trudy was gay? And she kept it a secret from me? Why? Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t ever recall Trudy dating a guy. Ever. And I’d never really paid much attention to that area of her life, because she’d always go on about focusing on work and career goals and having no time for relationships. Knowing Trudy as being an intensely focused and goal-adhered person, I’d believed her. Scratch the “knowing Trudy” part. I’d just realized that I didn’t know her at all.

  “Beauts, are you still here?” Lovello teased at my silence and shocked expression.

  “What do you know?” I demanded.

  He shook his head vehemently as he chortled. “Oh no. This is girl stuff. My mouth doesn’t belong in it. If I’d known you were oblivious to your best friend’s sexuality, I wouldn’t have opened up my gargantuan beak.”

  “Well, you did. So tell me what you know. About Tish and Carla.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Go call your friend. Let her tell you.”

  Straddling him with quick economic movements, I grabbed his flaccid cock which instantly began hardening under my fingers. “Tell me. Or I swear to God, I’ll rip this baseball bat and its two game balls off your body!”

  My beautiful lover threw his head back and shook with a cathartic laugh. “That would be a sad story for both of us, Crazy Girl.”

  “A sad story for you. I can always find another guy with a comparable size. But you’ll never find a woman to love you as a eunuch in this century, Pretty Boy.”

  Lovello’s smile vanished and I knew that he was pissed off by my ‘another guy’ statement. The man really couldn’t take a joke about me being with someone else. “Didn’t I warn you to stop saying shit like that, Axia?”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. But can you just please tell me? I feel like I’m standing out in the cold in the middle of Alaska on a dark and lonely night, wearing nothing but a pair of Uggs boots, and staring from a distance at a cozy-looking log-house that’s jumping with music and loud screams and laughter from my friends who tricked me into a bet of running a full lap around the building, nude. And the minute I’d run out of the log-house and into the cold, they’d closed the door and began pointing and laughing at me. And so, I’m left standing there in the snow, knees knocking together, my arms over my boobs and genitals, looking through the window of the log-house, wishing I knew what everyone knew, and could laugh about what everyone else was laughing about.”

  Again, Lovello tossed his head back in laughter and slapped his palm to his forehead. “My God, woman! Have I ever told you that you’re crazy? What exaggeration! I’m pretty sure that what the people in the log-house are laughing about is you. And what you should be wishing for is a blanket.”

  I smacked him. “Would you just tell me and stop laughing at me? Ass! You’re just like those in the log-house.”

  Lovello pulled me back down to him, tucking me under his arm. “You calm me, beauts.” He kissed the top of my head and sighed. “Trudy and my assistant, Carla, have been together for about two years. Carla’s head over heels in love with Trudy. But Trudy’s, well, a beast. They say she’s good enough to turn a straight woman gay.”

  “And how do you know all this?”

  “They’re all my workers, everything comes back to me. Even when I chase away the damn gossip, I always end up hearing it involuntarily.”

  “Oh.”

  “You really need to just call Trudy. Telling tales like this makes me feel emasculated.”

  “Just tell me what you know and cut the bullshit, Love.”

  Lovello made an annoyed grunt. “Trudy’s sneaking around with two other girls from two separate floors, but Carla and Trudy are known as an official couple so the others keep quiet about their trysts. Anyway, Trudy started yet another affair with your assistant.” His speech accelerated as if he were bored and wanted to be done. “Someone found out about Tish and told Carla. Carla — thinking that Tish is the only other girl — went by PSFC to warn off Tish. Sparks fly between Tish and Carla. They had sex. News got back to Trudy, she dumped them both, and now they’re both trying to get her back. While Trudy is busy seducing the new and straight receptionist on the first floor.”

  My whole body shook as I bubbled into laughter at the way Lovello sprayed the story faster than an auctioneer at a bidding war. Now I felt guilty for forcing him to do what he felt uncomfortable doing. “Okay, baby, you don’t have to tell me any more.”

  “Good. I was beginning to feel like a sorry excuse for a man.”

  Laughter continued to rock my body as I eyed his sullen expression, his eyes narrowed treacherously at me.

  “My God, I love yo —” I quickly snapped my mouth shut when I realized what I almost blurted. Lovello’s eyes locked in on mine, but neither of us said anything for what felt like an eon. My brain scrambled around for an idea to cover
up my gaffe, but was struggling to present something plausible; while Lovello stared at me with intense, unblinking slate-grays, imploring me to complete my sentence. There was something in his intensity that told me he needed to hear it, as if it would soothe something riotous inside him.

  Saved by the bell.

  Literally.

  There was a constant dinging of the doorbell, accompanied by a loud banging of fist on wood. Who the hell was that? And how did I not get an alert from Bill? Lovello held me back when I tried to get up and went to answer the door himself, never minding that he was wearing just his boxers.

  The door opened, and a minute later there was a sudden outburst of angry shouting which made me shoot from the sofa and run towards the foyer, tightening my silk robe around me.

  It was Natalio, and he was standing nose-to-nose with Lovello, his face tight and red with rage, his hands balled into white fists, the veins in his neck threatening to explode. “Where the fuck is she, Love? I know you know!! I have no doubt you helped her!”

  Lovello stared back at his brother, his composure held, his voice level and deceivingly calm when he spoke. “You have no doubt I helped her? You honestly believe I’d do something like that to you? Me?”

  Natalio’s eyes fell for a count of two seconds as he seemed to waver on his accusation, then he raised them with steeled resolution. “Yeah, I do. You’ve been predicting this all along. Always trying to ‘caution’ me. She’s always whining and complaining to you. And you always seem to have the uncanny ability to tell when my own woman is acting irrationally with the aim of getting my attention. I wonder how? Hmm? You encouraged her to run. You! So you can pride yourself in your ‘cloak of wisdom’ singing the old ‘I told you so’ song!”

  Lovello’s features turned to granite, his eyes glacial, his gritted teeth almost printing through the flesh of his cheeks. I’ve never seen him look this lethal before. It’s obvious he was hurt. He made a strong, forceful step to Natalio. “Get the hell out of my girl’s house, ASSHOLE!”