Plain Jane and the Billionaire (Plain Jane Series)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Selene glanced at Calista and dismissed her. “Ah, vous êtes ici pour le tournoi.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “Afterward, then. Je vais sucer ton pénis comme un vide.”

  “Somewhere in that sentence I heard penis. Does penis mean the same thing in French that it does in English?” Sunny mumbled loudly.

  “Yep.” Scotts nodded, suppressing a grin.

  Julius choked on a laugh. “I’m going to pass, and I’ll catch up with Lawson another time.” He moved around her and continued to the bar with Calista at his side.

  He waited for her to say something, but not a single word slipped from her lips. Words weren’t needed to express her wrath. The anger vibrating from her rigid body was enough. “Selene is—”

  “None of my business,” Calista snapped.

  True. But if that were true, then Rhodes was none of his, and that wasn’t true. Rhodes was very much his business. Julius wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. She froze, then tried to pull away. He wasn’t having it.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed as he directed them to the side of the room, yet still in full view.

  “I’m giving you no reason to be jealous.”

  She huffed. “I’m not jealous.”

  He took her face between his hands. “Of course you’re not.” Smoothed his fingers along her soft skin and lifted her chin.

  “I don’t want to cock block,” she murmured, her gaze narrowed.

  “My cock is not blocked. If I want Selene, I’d have her. I don’t want Selene.”

  She paused as she searched his eyes, then she said, “Good.”

  He nodded, realizing the conversation wasn’t over. A few yards away Rhodes waited with his back to them. At least he was doing his job.

  “You’re here to meet your brother.”

  “Yeah.” He hadn’t forgotten and he hadn’t spotted Joshua yet.

  “Don’t bet the fortune. I like you being able to afford me.” She smiled, warmth now in her gaze instead of daggers.

  He wanted to kiss her. There was no reason not to since their poorly kept secret was out. No putting the genie back in the bottle. The horse back in the stable. Acceptance of the obvious settled over her face, a resignation, followed by determination. This semi-secluded moment between them was a public declaration.

  Gaze skimming the room, Julius recognized quite a few players. Hard not to when the circle of those who could afford the buy-in was so small. Five hundred thousand wasn’t chump change. Those here could afford it.

  Turning to greet Davien, who approached from a backroom, Julius’ gaze snagged on Joshua Albert Morgan. Nineteen years old and CEO—in name only—of Morgan International.

  Chapter 28

  His little brother had changed a lot in the intervening years. If not for the updated yearly photo a private investigator provided, Julius wouldn’t have recognized his sibling. He was golden blond, like Lynda, versus the dirty blond of their father, and wry as he’d yet to fill out and gain the musculature of the Morgan men. In his day, Albert Morgan was a towering figure. Six foot five and brawny, Julius took after him. Albert’s father served in World War II, in the Pacific. Albert served in Vietnam, an infantryman, and never let anyone forget. He expected his eldest son to follow in his footsteps, which Julius gladly would have, until his father’s unexpected death. Joshua topped off at an even six feet, four inches shorter than Julius.

  “If I had called and told you he was here, would you have come?” Davien murmured for Julius’ ears only, his accent more cultured European than Qari. A hard handshake and a slap on the back was their greeting.

  Yes. Julius would have come. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t hate his brother. He didn’t like him either, mainly because he didn’t know him. There was a time when he didn’t want to know him. He didn’t think that anymore. The age difference, circumstances of his birth, and the inheritance would always be an obstacle. The road to having any kind of brotherly affection was paved with landmines. Not insurmountable, yet deadly. The only way it could be when his inheritance was stolen, and vast sums of money were being wasted by Lynda’s ineptitude.

  “I had nothing to report and you were recovering.” As always, Davien looked like a hipster pall bearer in his black pinstriped Bespoke suit, crisp white shirt with no tie, and his long on the top, shaved on the side haircut.

  “How long has he been here?” Julius allowed Davien to guide him to the bar and signaled to the bartender.

  “He arrived a week ago. Hit the clubs, bought a few whores. His friends scored some coke, some weed. I don’t know if it was for him, but you are the company you keep.” Davien’s accented English, instead of Qari layered with French, threw Julius back to their high school days. The effect of spending most of his time in the Swiss Alps and Saint Tropez.

  Julius’ detective had said as much about Joshua’s habits. Nothing Julius could do about that. He was not his brother’s keeper. It was Lynda’s problem. The bartender slid two neat glasses of bourbon in front of them. Not Julius’ favorite libation, though he didn’t complain. It went down smooth enough and he needed it. “He had five hundred K for the buy-in.” An observation not a question.

  “Obviously,” Davien snorted. “Neither lender nor borrower be.” A motto Davien lived by. No exceptions.

  “Lynda keeps him on a tight leash. Last I checked, he didn’t have two mil or disposable income in his accounts. At most, he had five K, and he doesn’t draw a salary from the company. The audit claimed he received company bonuses along with the other executives, but I’m thinking they went into Lynda’s pocket.” Effectively stealing from the company and her son. Neither of which he could do anything about. “Either he embezzled or outright stole the money.”

  “Or found an investor.” Davien said.

  An investor?

  Davien shook his head, perplexed. “Who would invest in a novice nineteen-year-old playing poker with high rollers? I’d like to meet the idiot. I’ve a bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell him.”

  So did Julius. “How much has he lost?”

  Davien swirled the bourbon around the glass and grinned. “He’s up five million.”

  That caused Julius to blink a few times. Maybe the kid wasn’t a total write-off. “Who’s he playing against? Anyone noteworthy?”

  “A few newbies, the Cuban and the Greek.”

  Julius spun on the stool and faced the tables. Faced his brother because Joshua was watching him as if he knew he was the topic of conversation.

  Staring into the same set of copper colored eyes was a bit disconcerting. For one brief instant they were in each other’s head. He’s here! Julius imagined the words echoed in his brother’s skull.

  No expression. No recognition. No scorn. Nothing except a long hard stare, then his attention returned to the cards in his hand. Julius had been dismissed.

  Standing behind Joshua as a spectator was Ben Jennings, CEO of Jennings Oil and Gas located in Texas. He raised his glass in salutations. Davien returned the gesture. Jennings separated from the female at his side and approached.

  Davien mumbled, “Rumor has it, he’s searching for investors.”

  “In another oil field? Not interested.” There was money to be made in fossil fuels. Tons. Unfortunately for his wallet, Julius had a conscience.

  “Rumor has it he’s seen the future and it’s green. Green money through green energy.”

  “Hmm.” Was Julius’ non-committal response as Jennings signaled the bartender for a fresh drink.

  “Sheikh Davien,” Jennings greeted the host with a tight smile and a tip of his head. “Morgan. Glad to see you’ve recovered from the shooting. Did they catch the bastard?”

  Caught and dissected. “I wouldn’t know.” He deadpanned.

  Wisely, Jennings moved on. “Your brother has quite the touch. You teach him?” Jennings asked. It was a softball question to open a dialogue that would lead to somewhere else.

  The Morgan brothers’ estrangement
was a well-known fact. Jennings was fishing and Julius wasn’t taking the bait. “It’s a skill he got from our father.”

  Jennings sipped his drink, gathering his liquid courage. “Call me selfish, but I have a proposition for you.”

  And that’s why he came to these yearly get-togethers. “Let’s hear it.” Julius listened to Jennings hawk his spiel while keeping one eye on his brother’s table. By the time the round ended with Joshua clearing the table and another million dollars in his account, he had an answer Jennings didn’t like. “Not interested.”

  The table cleared, including the dealer, leaving Joshua in the center chair with his chip empire. Julius unbuttoned his suit and took the seat across from his sibling, to the right of the dealer’s chair. Silently, they eyed each other. This close, the resemblance was unnerving. Joshua was a younger version of Julius. Skinnier, not a hint of facial hair, and judging by the smirk on his lean face, just as cocky. Jeans, sneakers, silk button-down shirt in midnight-blue, Under Armor jacket, diamond Rolex hanging on his wrist, diamond studs in both ears. Hair gelled and slicked to the side like he was in a boy band.

  Joshua leaned back, hooked one arm around the back of his chair and slouched, completely relaxed, except for a slight trembling of his right index finger. He was nervous and couldn’t hide it.

  “You wanted me here.” Palms up, Julius opened his arms. “Here I am.”

  “Not blind, Julius Morgan…” His tone sulky. Then his mouth screwed up, and he muttered, “Glad you could make it, bro.”

  Bro? Guess we’re claiming each other. Not sure how that made him feel. Not warm or fuzzy, but there was something going on in his chest. Julius could’ve played it several ways. Brushing Joshua off came first to mind because, after years of silence, he didn’t trust the olive branch thrown his way. More than likely, Lynda had put him up to this. Nineteen years old, he may be an adult, but Lynda’s reach was long, and unbreakable.

  Or so Julius thought.

  “Glad for the invite. Now explain why,” he stated.

  Joshua shrugged. “Curiosity. I got tired of hearing your name.”

  “From whom?” As if he didn’t already know.

  “People.” Joshua’s eyes shifted.

  A powerful tell for a man who’d won six million in poker and the night was still young. Or had he done it on purpose?

  “I would think Lynda would have more to worry about than her stepson whom she hadn’t seen in sixteen years.”

  “Not true.” Joshua grinned. “You’ve seen each other. You just haven’t interacted.”

  Julius conceded the point and nodded as an employee delivered his chips.

  “Mom’s seen a lot more of you since you landed on the newest billionaire list.” Joshua fiddled with the chips stacked in front of him. “She wasn’t happy, though she’d always kept tabs on you.”

  As he did her. It was wise with one’s enemies.

  “You’ve never not been the topic of conversation.”

  Seemed Joshua wanted to talk about his mother. Fine. Julius would keep him talking and glean what he could. “I didn’t make my money to piss her off.”

  “She thinks you did. Especially now.” Joshua signaled a server. “Another beer.”

  Julius would be a hypocrite to remind Joshua and the server he wasn’t legal when Julius had been drinking since his father brought Lynda home, already pregnant, already married. “Why especially now?”

  “Because she can’t call you a deadbeat looking for a handout, amongst other more unsavory things.”

  “Like what?” Julius was mildly interested.

  “A whore. A gigolo. A D-list socialite. A poor rich boy. Claimed you really were a bastard and that’s why Albert cut you out of the will. Claimed you were a thief when you stole that company out from under her last year. An addict after your stint in rehab.”

  He was an addict, recovering because the battle never ends. That’s what happens when you have a cozy relationship with cocaine. Six weeks in rehab eight years ago, he left the ranch in the Catskills clean with a silent promise to never be that vulnerable or dependent on anything or anyone ever again. He’d meant and kept that promise. “What else?”

  “You want us dead. Bankrupt and dead.”

  “I don’t want you dead,” he quipped, his mouth twisted in a sardonic grin.

  Joshua met Julius’s grin with one of his own. “That’s what I told Mom. She ignored me.” He was now sullen and bitter.

  Davien, with two mil in chips in a tray, took the seat to the right of Joshua, followed by Jennings and another man to the right of Davien, each with their own trays of chips. The dealer joined the table.

  It was time to play cards, but their discussion wasn’t over.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion at the entrance. Davien rose. His security closed in around him as he prepared to take charge. One glance and he sat down. Then Harden strolled across the room and took the seat between Julius and Joshua.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.” Harden greeted them as an attendant brought him a tray of chips.

  “This is unexpected, Mr. Gage.” Brow knitted in a frown, Davien addressed Harden.

  This was a fucking surprise. Guess Harden forgot to mention he was heading to Vegas while taking care of the competition.

  “Gentlemen.” The dealer addressed all of them. “Texas Hold’em is the game.” He shuffled the cards and addressed the man to his left. “Mr. Penney. Your blind, please.”

  Penney had stacked his chips into monochromatic towers, the smallest denomination ten grand, the largest denomination one hundred grand. The chips were from the reserved collection, used only in this room, not on the floor for the general population. The masses couldn’t afford them. Penney tossed out two ten K chips.

  Per the rules, Davien had to double that blind.

  The dealer dealt two cards to each player. Julius studied his hand. Queen of spades. Eight of spades. Davien called and matched Penney’s blind. Joshua raised. He threw in one fifty K chip, leaving the rest of the table to do the same or fold. Around they went, each matching the bet.

  The dealer picked up the deck of cards. He burned the top card, tossing it aside and then dealt the next three cards, the flop. King of hearts. Nine of spades. Ace of diamonds.

  Inward, Julius smiled. His hand was viable. Not great, but he wasn’t dead yet.

  Harden checked and tossed aside his cards. Penney checked. Joshua raised. He threw in two fifty K chips, again forcing everyone to do the same or fold. Penney bailed, leaving Davien and Julius to match the bet.

  The turn: Ten of spades.

  Julius’ hand was more than viable. He checked.

  Joshua raised again. Three fifty K chips. He had money to burn. Julius matched the raise.

  The river: Jack of hearts.

  Julius had a straight. Davien, Harden, and Joshua folded. Julius racked in his chips. It was a good start to the night. The next three hands were a bust. He folded early on the first hand. Lost the next pot to Davien, then the last pot to Joshua.

  As the night wore on, Julius had to admit, he was impressed with his brother’s skill. Where and when had the little shit learned to play poker? Julius learned at boarding school with Davien, Nasir, Harden, and Lawson. He refined his skills during his one year at Princeton. Joshua was colder and more calculating than he’d ever been at the young age of nineteen. Where had the whiny three-year-old he remembered gone?

  Julius remembered a lot from that time period. The divorce and new marriage a month later, followed by Joshua’s birth three months after that. Their father’s death a week before Joshua’s fifth birthday. Then, his inheritance went goodbye with the stroke of a pen and an unexpected change in his father’s will. He had blamed Joshua. That’s what an immature kid does. It took a few years and a whole lot of maturity to realize blaming a child was irrational when the blame lay squarely with his father who put his dick before his family.

  And the woman who manipulated an old man.

  His brothe
r didn’t seem worse for wear having grown up without a father. Lynda hadn’t remarried, but she had plenty of lovers, though she was discrete.

  There was that disturbance again. Low, yet urgent voices near the doors. It was subtle, background noise, but in a silent room they may as well have been shouting through a bullhorn. Rhodes cut across the room, heading toward the disturbance. Whatever it was he could take care of it.

  This was the sixth game. The pot was big. The blind started at five hundred K. The table of five players had dwindled to two—Julius and Joshua. Julius had three point five mil in chips stacked in front of him. Joshua had just short of four mil. Harden had lightened both their wallets in the last round and was quite pleased with himself.

  Joshua took it in stride and didn’t blink at the loss. His brother went to Princeton, a legacy admission because his grades certainly didn’t get entry into an Ivy League school. Legacy admission and a ton of money. The construction of a new wing to the science building helped his admission. Ten months in the hallowed halls and he bailed. Julius earned his way into Princeton, though he bailed after a year, so he couldn’t find fault there.

  What did a nineteen-year-old worth eighty billion dollars do with all his spare time? Anything he wanted. However, Julius doubted Lynda knew her son was tossing chips opposite his estranged brother. Though it wouldn’t be long before she did. She had too much invested in her son, too much to lose by letting him sever the umbilical cord and walk away. Which made her dangerous.

  Movement by the exit drew his attention. Annoyed at the distraction, he ignored it, and studied his brother. Every man had a tell, a twitch of some sort, a look, a giveaway. So far, none of that applied to Joshua.

  “To sweeten the pot, I’ll throw in my shares in Morgan International.”

  What? “Are you serious?” Julius demanded.

  “Yeah,” he said with a cavalier shrug and a cocky smirk.

  Penney cursed. “Damn. I wish I hadn’t folded. Maybe I’d have a shot.”

  “Let me explain something, boy,” Harden interjected, voice colder than a north pole winter. “You put your shares of Morgan International in the pot and lose, you will deliver those shares or lose more than you can afford.”