My Brother's Best Friend

by Nikki Chase

  I heard Trish’s bare feet rush down the stairs as I entered the elevator.

  “Caine, wait!” She shouted.

  That was the last thing I ever heard from her.

  The ringing of my phone pulls me away from my memory. I pressed the phone button on the steering wheel.

  “Caine.” Cole’s voice filters through the speakers, as crisp and clear as if he were sitting beside me in my Mercedes-Maybach S600.

  “Yeah,” I reply. I know exactly why he’s calling me. We’re not the kind of siblings who stay in touch every day, but we rally together when the family’s in trouble.

  “How’s Pop doing?” Ever since he moved to Seattle, Cole has been relying on me to keep up with the family news. Cole and Pop are technically speaking to each other now, but they keep the aforementioned speaking to a minimum.

  One big conflict between them happened when Pop didn’t approve of his relationship with Emily. Pop has softened a little since then—he even flew all the way to Bali for their wedding—but Cole and Pop still don’t get along very well.

  As the guy who’s often caught in the middle of their arguments, I’m happy to keep Cole updated if it means peace for the whole family.

  “I’m on my way to the hospital to find out,” I say.

  “He’s still at the hospital? I thought it was just another angina episode.”

  “Yes, but it was a particularly bad one.”

  “Fuck. Is he gonna be okay?”

  “Yes. Probably. He’s old, Cole. Old people get sick.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to think of him as some feeble old man.”

  “If he weren’t old, he would’ve caught wind of your devious plan before you could carry it out,” I remind him.

  Cole was managing a chain of boutique hotels here in San Francisco when the conflict between Pop and Cole blew up. Pop forced Cole to quit and sign away all his rights to Foster Hotels.

  I tried to stop Pop from doing this, as Cole had worked hard to build the company. It was his baby. But Pop insisted.

  A few days after Cole left San Francisco, Pop realized Cole had taken quite a big chunk of money out of the company’s accounts. He was furious, but there was nothing he could do.

  What Cole did was sneaky and dishonest, but it was legal. Besides, Pop wasn’t innocent either in the whole thing. Cole just happened to be the one to win that round.

  “You have a point.” Cole chuckles, his voice full of pride. If he at least tries to hide his smugness at having pulled a fast one on Pop, maybe they could get along, but I don’t see that happening. They’re both too stubborn and confrontational to not butt heads.

  “The doctors say he should recover, no problem. I just made them do all the tests on him. That’s why he’s still at the hospital.”

  “What tests?”

  “All of them.” I laugh. I can walk into a hostile boardroom meeting and come out having made a win-win deal that makes everybody happy, but I don’t know anything about medicine. I literally just told the doctors to conduct every test they could think of so we could manage any other old-people illnesses Pop has.

  “Okay,” Cole says. I can tell by his tone that he still doesn’t fully understand what I’m doing. That’s fine, though. He usually trusts me to do what needs to be done.

  “I’m just entering the hospital parking lot now. I’ll call you if there’s anything you should know.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Caine,” he says.

  “No problem.” I press another button on the steering wheel to hang up.

  As silence fills the car once again, I wonder why I was even thinking about that day I learned my live-in girlfriend was a lying, cheating bitch. That whole mess happened three years ago.

  I was heartbroken for a while, but I quickly buried myself in work until I didn’t have any time left to grieve. It still took me about a year until I stopped thinking about her whenever I was lying alone in my bed.

  I never slept again in the bed where Trish had fucked someone else. I never even stepped foot inside that apartment again. I hired a realtor—Trish’s biggest rival—and sold it at a loss. The property market wasn’t doing well at the time, but I had to get rid of that fucking apartment.

  After parking the car, I close and lock the door, then head toward the hospital entrance. Besides checking on Pop, there’s another thing I’m interested in at this hospital.

  That nurse.

  That saucy minx of a nurse.

  The one who acts like she’s too good to do things for money. The one who pushes me away, but lets out delicious little gasps whenever I get too close. The one who says with her mouth that she doesn’t want to follow my orders, but has so far done every single one of them.

  She wouldn’t admit it, perhaps even to herself, but I can see from the lust in her gaze that she wants me as much as I want her. And I want her bad.

  I don’t usually obsess about a girl to the point of distraction, but I keep finding myself zoning out during important business meetings to think about her.

  Those legs barely covered by the sheer stockings, those full hips and narrow waist, those perky tits… But most of all, the way she responds to my slightest touch. I can almost feel myself getting harder in my pants at the mere thought of her body.

  I push my dirty thoughts away. I’m walking into a hospital, for fuck’s sake. Do I really want a bunch of medical practitioners and sick people staring at my hard-on?

  She makes me feel like a horny teenager . The only person I’ve ever felt this way about was Trish, my ex-girlfriend.

  I wonder if that’s why I was thinking about Trish earlier. Maybe my subconscious is telling me to be careful, warning me something bad could happen again with this new girl, but I’m not worried

  She’s barely old enough to order a cosmopolitan at a bar. She looks so innocent I doubt she could slip one by me. Besides, she’s practically transparent; all her emotions immediately show up on her face. I can read her like a book, even after only two short encounters.

  I’m older, wiser, and smarter now. And I have a plan.

  I’ll get her into my bed, sooner or later.

  Caine

  “Your father is doing well, Mr. Foster. He can go home whenever he’s ready.” The young resident doctor adjusts his Harry Potter glasses. He looks down and checks his chart for the seventh time. I’m beginning to think he’s purposely avoiding eye contact.

  “I’ll take him home tonight,” I say. “We’ve already hired a home care nurse to make sure he at least tries to stay healthy.”

  “I’m right here,” Pop says, stirring in his bed. I tried to keep the conversation quiet, but the man has the hearing of an elephant. He puts his palms on the bed and pushes himself up to a sitting position. “I don’t need your nurse. I’m not some invalid.”

  “Pop, just stay in bed, okay? You’re still weak.”

  “Bullshit,” he says as he gets up to his feet.

  “You’re an old man. Act like it. Maybe if you rest more you can go back to work sooner.” I look at the doctor and ask, “So when can he start working again?”

  The doctor fidgets nervously, his fingers adjusting and playing with the stethoscope hanging around his neck. “I wouldn’t recommend going back to work. Perhaps this is a good time to consider retirement.”

  “Hah! Retirement, schmetirement,” Pop shouts in a loud voice, making the doctor flinch in surprise.

  I roll my eyes.

  Sure, Pop has an infamous reputation. Back when he was young, he was involved in quite a few illegal activities. But, over the years, as he grew his wealth, he gradually took himself out of those risky businesses.

  Now all our family dealings are completely legal. We don’t have thugs anymore. And even way back when, it wasn’t like he’d beat up a physician who’s only trying to heal him. That would be like punching himself in the face.

  “You mean temporarily, right?” I ask the doctor.

  “Well…” His voice trails off as his eyes focus a
little too hard on the chart in his hands.

  “Of course that’s what he means,” Pop says brusquely.

  I draw a deep breath. “Pop, let the man talk, will you?”

  He grunts as he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and puts it on. As he passes us by on his way toward the door, he says. “There’s nothing more to talk about here. I’ve been out of the office for way too long already. I’ll wait for you in the car. And I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

  Pop slams the door on his way out, leaving me alone with the doctor in the hospital room. Again, the doctor flinches from the loud noise, even as he heaves a sigh of relief.

  “You were saying…?” I prompt him to pick up the conversation from where we left off when Pop had interrupted us.

  “Yes. Uh, many seniors… I mean, many people your father’s age don’t work and this is precisely why. A seventy-year-old’s body is just not built to handle that much stress.”

  “So you think he should stop working as soon as possible?”

  “That is what I would recommend, correct. If he goes back to work and gets under a lot of stress, he could suffer another bad episode, or a worse one,” he says as he shifts his round-framed glasses.

  We exchange the necessary greetings and the doctor leaves.

  I drag air into my compressed lungs. My own body feels heavy with worry and responsibility. If Pop retires, what does that mean for the family business?

  Yes, between Cole and me, I’ve always been the one who works harder, who knows the business better. But I’ve also always expected Cole to inherit the business when the time inevitably comes.

  I don't know why I’d think that, considering how badly Pop and Cole get along. Maybe it’s just something my mother used to say. I don't know.

  I guess I used to think Pop and Cole would gradually learn to play nice. Or maybe I didn't think much of it, assuming it wasn't going to happen any time soon. Yet, here we are.

  I scan the room to check for anything Pop may have left behind. Aside from the duffel bag he has packed and left by the bed, there's nothing.

  As I enter the ensuite bathroom to give it a quick once-over, I hear soft footsteps walking into the adjoining bedroom. I rest my hand on the door frame and see who it is.

  When I spot that ponytail of honey-blonde hair and that bubble butt in the pants of her scrubs, I can't believe my eyes. Finally, my night is looking much better.

  I quietly step into the hallway, fixing my gaze on her as she fiddles with the medical equipment by the bed. I close the door that opens to the hallway to get some privacy. Daisy’s not going anywhere now, not until I let her.

  She turns around at the click the latch makes as it slides into place, enclosing the two of us in this private space. I watch the surprise register in her green eyes when she realizes she's trapped in this room with me.

  “Hello,” I say with a smirk. “I didn't expect to see you tonight.”

  “Me neither,” she says with a surly expression. Without using any rude words, she manages to convey just how much she doesn't want my presence here. What's interesting to me is a spark of want in her eyes, like she wants me but she hates herself for feeling that way.

  But, why?

  I know people who need money. They come into my office every day, trying to convince me to part with my money. Too bad for them, I can spot them from a mile away

  Daisy is one of those people who need money. I like to think I’d be helping her get through a rough patch with my offer.

  As far as I know, nurses in San Francisco get paid well. But if Daisy has to moonlight as a lingerie waitress, then she's not really in a position to say no to $100,000.

  I wonder if she has a bad overspending habit to support. Maybe there’s a maxed-out credit card or two that she’s struggling to pay off.

  Either way, she should be jumping and clapping by now, or giving me a smile, at the very least.

  Besides, I can tell I’m not the only one who can feel the crackle of electricity between us. By the way she reacts to my touch, I know she’s desperate for more.

  Yet, there she is, looking at me like I’m responsible for spreading the plague throughout the hospital or something.

  I take a few steps toward her.

  Interesting. The closer I get, the heavier her breaths. Her cheeks fill with color.

  She's thinking about walking past me and straight toward the door, but she knows that would only show me how much I’m affecting her. With every little dart of her eyes, I can almost hear her thoughts.

  How can someone be so open, so easily readable, so vulnerable? It makes me want to hold her down and yank her baby-blue scrubs off just to see how she’d react.

  “I should be working.” She boldly meets my gaze.

  “I thought you had work to do right here. That’s why you came in here, right?” I watch as she stays silent, although her expression tells me all I need to know. She wants this too; she just can’t admit it to herself. I close the gap between us. Now we’re standing inches apart.

  “Someone’s going to come looking for me,” she says, not answering my question.

  “I doubt it. You’ve only been in here for a few minutes,” I say confidently. “And even if they do see you here with me, what are they going to do about it?”

  She knows I’m right. I have the Chief of Medicine in my pocket. Nobody in their right mind would dare interrupt me even if I were fucking ten nurses at once in one of their rooms.

  “Speaking of work, have you thought about my offer?” I ask when she continues to say nothing.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I already have a job, which I can’t just leave for a whole month,” she retorts.

  “Of course you do. And I’m saying it doesn’t matter. I know how hard it is to find work in this market. You can’t lose your job and just go into lingerie waitressing full-time. To be honest, you’re not that good at it.”

  I chuckle as a spark of anger flashes in Daisy’s green eyes. That only makes me want to claim her with my fingers, with my lips, with my cock. I want to see that anger turn into lust and submission. I want to break her, redirect her passion into sexual energy that I can take advantage of.

  “Don’t worry about losing your job. I can make up some excuse to Dr. Pratt. He won’t say no. Not to me. I don’t take no for an answer.” I look straight at her to drive my point home. I want to make sure she knows I won’t accept a refusal from her, too.

  I’ll have her, and she’ll like it. There’s no other option.

  “I’d love to stay here and chat,” I say sarcastically. She’s been silent for much of the so-called conversation. “But I’m wanted elsewhere.”

  I raise one hand to her cheek and caress her skin gently. I smile with satisfaction when her eyelids flutter and her head tilts ever so slightly into my hand.

  I trace her lips with my thumb. They’re dry and slightly chapped. I want to lean in and run my tongue all over those pink, alluring lips. I want to claim them and crush them until they’re wet and blood-red with desire.

  But this is not the time. Patience.

  I can find women who’ll spread their legs as soon as they hear my name, but what’s fun about that? Daisy is a challenge. The goal of the game is to tease her and make her see that she needs this as much as I do, and to watch as her resolve breaks.

  I lean closer, and she closes her eyes. I can tell she’s expecting a kiss. She won’t say no if I were to ravish those lips right now.

  Instead, I hover over her shoulder. I place my mouth right by her ear. The hairs on the back of her neck rise as my hot breaths brush her skin.

  “You know where to find me. I’m a businessman. I’m open to negotiation,” I whisper. “See you soon, Daisy. My little flower.”

  With that, I turn around and pick up my father’s duffel bag by the bed before I leave the room. I’d loved to stay and spend more time teasing Daisy, but there’s more work waiting for me at the office.

  It’s ok
ay. I know I’ve gotten the message across. I’ve piqued her interest. She may not admit it, but she may find her panties wetter than usual today.

  I want her to beg me to fuck her. I can already tell we’re going to get there, sooner or later. I just need some patience.

  Daisy

  I pull on my hoodie, hoping it would help reduce the bite of the chilly night air. At least it’s not a long walk from the bus stop to my apartment.

  I can’t stop thinking about Caine Foster.

  After our little encounter tonight, I couldn’t concentrate on my work. Every time I talked to another nurse, or a doctor, or even a patient, I wondered what they’d think of me if I were to disappear for one month.

  Would they think I was going on a vacation?

  I don’t hide the fact that I’m broke due to family problems from my co-workers, so that probably wouldn’t be their first guess. I don’t even have the money to join them for drinks after work, and suddenly I’m jet-setting to Paris? Yeah, unlikely.

  Or would they think I was quitting?

  Nurses in this city are paid well above the national average, so competition is stiff and vacancies are few and far between. Someone as broke as I am wouldn’t quit this job, which pays really well.

  If I continue on this career path, I can almost be guaranteed a six-figure income in a few years. God, that would be nice. That day couldn’t come fast enough.

  I wouldn’t quit. I never would. Unless… Unless, like a handful of nurses who have quit, I found a wealthy man to marry.

  Suddenly, an image of Caine Foster, dressed in a three-piece suit, looking handsome at the end of a church aisle, pops into my head.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  So my body does funny things when he’s around. That doesn’t mean we’re going to get married. Ugh, stop being such a virgin, Daisy.