by Erika Wilde
“For now?” Maddux repeated in a flat tone. “Is she just a temporary itch you’re scratching?”
Jesus Christ. Remy met Maddux’s gaze, really trying not to offend the other man. “With all due respect, I’m not sure our relationship is any of your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Lowell.” Maddux’s gaze narrowed in on Remy. “Tempest is my baby sister, who I raised, so it’s very much my business. The last thing I want to see is Tempest getting hurt.”
“I would never intentionally hurt her.” Remy exhaled a deep breath. “Our relationship is all very new, but we have a mutual understanding.”
“As do you and I,” Maddux stated, and slapped Remy on the back, his smile more intimidating than cordial. “Make sure you don’t break her heart, or else you’ll have two very pissed-off brothers to deal with.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Remy held Tempest’s hand as they walked into a trendy restaurant in Manhattan on a Saturday evening. Definitely a far cry from O’Brien’s, or any other kind of eatery he normally frequented, but Tempest insisted on them going somewhere “nice” to celebrate his birthday. He could have ordered in a pizza and been perfectly content staying at home with her, but because this woman he was falling so hard for rarely asked anything of him, Remy was happy to indulge her.
Hell, he was happy, period. More so than he could ever remember being, and knew his outlook on life had everything to do with Tempest. Every single thing about her made his life brighter, more meaningful, and more optimistic. She was smart, playful, sexy as hell, and just a silly, random text from her would put a goofy smile on his face, and he didn’t even care that the guys working with him on the Wilder Things project noticed.
His days at work went so much faster when he knew he’d be spending the evening with her. He loved when she cooked for him, and his favorite way to enjoy the weekend with her was in one of their beds being totally and completely lazy . . . luxuriating in hot, satisfying sex and eating junk food while binge watching shows on Netflix.
Their relationship had definitely moved from the casual affair they’d agreed on nearly two months ago to something deeper and more emotionally intimate, and while the L word hadn’t yet come into play between them, Remy knew it was there inside him, trying to work its way out.
He couldn’t deny that the feelings Tempest evoked in him were scary as hell because they were so strong and undeniable and felt bigger than him, yet it was his own fears and insecurities that kept him from being all in. The what-ifs that taunted him in the back of his head, making him question if he could truly keep Tempest as happy as they were in this moment for years to come. Could he give her everything she wanted and deserved, or was he already too emotionally damaged to be the kind of man she needed in her life?
“Lowell, party of two,” the hostess announced, startling him out of the thoughts that had no place in his head tonight. “Your table is ready. Right this way.”
Remy let Tempest precede him, which provided him with the opportunity to take in the backside of the red dress she’d worn that hugged her lush figure like a glove . . . the indentation of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the sweet curves of her ass. And when she turned around to slide into the small, intimate circular booth for two, he was treated to the low dip of her bodice that teased him with a provocative amount of cleavage. Coming or going, Tempest Wilder made his dick stand up and take notice.
Once the hostess left them alone, they perused the menu, and when the waiter came by, Remy treated himself to two fingers of a high-end bourbon, while Tempest opted for a fruity martini from the cocktail menu. For dinner, he ordered the rib eye, and she selected the salmon.
With their drinks, they toasted to his birthday, and Tempest’s eyes sparkled happily over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. Then she smiled at him.
“You look very handsome tonight,” she said, taking in his attire.
“Just tonight?” he teased, something that now came easily with Tempest.
She gave him a coy look that contradicted the bold, confident woman he knew her to be. “On a day-to-day basis, you’re fucking hot, Remy Lowell,” she said, drawing his gaze to the red lipstick she’d worn. “But yeah, tonight, dressed in a pair of slacks and a sports coat and your hair all trimmed and combed, you look handsome. And just for the record, I’ll take you both ways, because while you look nice and civilized on the outside, I know what an animal you are once it’s all stripped away.”
He laughed, because it was true. She brought out the sexual animal in him and loved every dirty, wicked thing he did to her.
“While we’re waiting for our dinner, here’s a little something for your birthday,” she said, pulling a wrapped package from her purse and setting it on the table in front of him.
Remy stared at the gift, all covered in bright, celebratory paper and topped with a bow, suddenly feeling self-conscious as he glanced back up at Tempest, who wore a soft smile. “I told you not to get me anything.”
“I only listen to your orders in the bedroom,” she said impudently. “It’s nothing big or expensive, but it’s . . . meaningful. And the first of many, I hope.”
Curiosity piqued, he peeled the paper away, revealing a five-by-seven framed photo that made him laugh because of the fun memory attached to the picture someone had taken of him and Tempest during their spaghetti kiss weeks ago. It was right at the moment where their lips touched, and they were looking into each other’s eyes, genuinely happy smiles on their faces.
“I love it,” he said, his voice husky with emotion, because her gift meant more to him than she could imagine. It wasn’t the cost, it was the pure sentiment. “Thank you.”
She took another sip of her martini, her eyes gentle and kind. “You don’t have anything personal in your apartment, no photos of important people in your life, and hopefully this will be a start.”
A start for them, he wondered? “I’d like that.” He leaned over and kissed her, the kind that was soft and sweet and delivered a dozen other feelings he found hard to verbally express.
When he finally pulled back, she gave him a sassy look. “Now, as for your other present, that one you’ll have to wait to unwrap later, but I will tell you that what I’m wearing beneath this dress, I designed just for you to enjoy for your birthday.”
He groaned, his imagination already kicking into overdrive. He placed a hand on her knee and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her dress, teasing her with a light caress that made her gasp and smack his hand away.
She arched a chastising brow at him, which did nothing to conceal the sinful, teasing gleam in her eyes. “I know you want to dip your fingers into the frosting like a bad boy, but dinner first.”
He chuckled, just as the waiter arrived with their meals. The other man set their plates on the table, and for the next half hour, he and Tempest enjoyed what they’d ordered and talked about Wilder Things, which was her favorite topic of conversation these days. She was always running new ideas by him, and he honestly couldn’t wait to see this place when it was done, decorated, and furnished. She’d come up with a unique and sexy idea that people were going to love, and it would undoubtedly become a hot spot in Williamsburg.
When the waiter came back to clear away their dishes, he offered them the dessert menu. He’d already learned that Tempest wasn’t one to pass up anything sweet, and wasn’t surprised when she grinned at him.
“Want to share the white chocolate mousse?” she asked him.
“Sure.” He’d take a few bites and leave the rest for her to enjoy.
Before the waiter could leave, Tempest spoke up. “Today is his birthday,” she said, nodding her head Remy’s way. “Can you bring a candle for the dessert, and matches, please?”
The waiter grinned. “Absolutely.”
As soon as the other man was gone, Remy shook his head and groaned. “I do not want them singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me.” He was already embarrassed thinking about being the center of a
ttention.
“Relax, Remy.” She patted his hand to calm him, though she was smiling. “I only asked for a candle so you and I can celebrate your birthday.”
Remy wasn’t convinced that all the waiters in the restaurant weren’t going to converge at their table and burst out in song and was relieved when their server returned by himself. He set the single dessert on the table between him and Tempest, along with a small candle and a book of matches on a separate plate.
“Happy birthday, sir,” the other man said with a grin and a slight bow. “Enjoy your dessert.”
When they were alone, Tempest picked up the candle and put it into the swirl of chocolate mousse, then reached for the matches. She struck one and touched it to the wick of the candle, lighting it.
“Make a wish, Remy,” she said, encouraging him.
Above the flickering candle, he met Tempest’s gentle gaze and knew what he’d wish for, given the chance. All he wanted, all he needed, was her. For the rest of his life.
Before he could blow out the candle and put that elusive wish out into the universe, Tempest’s startled expression stopped him. Her eyes grew round as she stared beyond where Remy was sitting, and when he turned his head to follow her gaze, he saw what, or rather who, had captured her attention.
The food he’d just eaten knotted in Remy’s stomach as he watched Kyle walk toward their table from the back of the establishment, clearly on his way out when he’d seen Tempest. He approached the two of them, a surprisingly sheepish look on his face.
“Tempest, nice to see you,” he said amicably.
“Kyle.” She didn’t return the nice to see you sentiment. Her body language was stiff and wary and didn’t invite further conversation.
Kyle shifted on his feet and rubbed a hand along his jaw, his brow knitted with contrition. “Hey, look . . . I know things between us ended abruptly, and since you blocked my number, I wasn’t able to contact you again, but I saw you just now on my way out and wanted to apologize for being so . . . pushy. I didn’t know you were dating someone else.”
His gaze briefly flickered to Remy, then back to Tempest. If Kyle recognized him from the night of the fairy-tale ball two months ago, his expression didn’t show it.
“It’s fine, Kyle,” she said, letting the other man off too easily as far as Remy was concerned.
Then again, this situation was awkward as fuck and it was obvious that Tempest just wanted Kyle gone. As did Remy. Being face-to-face with his half brother, who had no clue who Remy was, only brought up shitty emotions that stirred Remy’s anger and resentment.
“Kyle, what’s the holdup?” a woman asked from a few feet away as she neared the table. “Your father is getting impatient and wants to leave.”
Remy’s blood ran ice-cold in his veins. He hadn’t heard that voice in over twenty-five years, but he recognized it immediately—though now it held a haughty air. Remy struggled to breathe while staring at the burning candle on the chocolate dessert that kept melting away and dripping wax. So much for making a wish. Happy fucking birthday to me.
“Mom, this is Tempest Wilder,” Kyle said, introducing her. “And this is—”
“My date,” Tempest intercepted in a panicked rush of breath, clearly realizing who Kyle’s mother was.
Beneath the table, Tempest’s hand squeezed his thigh, and it dawned on Remy that she’d just tried to protect him from being called out by name and possibly exposed as Crystal’s first son. But a deranged part of Remy needed to know if his mother would recognize him after all this time, and he finally turned his head and glanced up at her, immediately seeing an older, Botoxed, and well-off version of the woman he’d known for only a short time.
Her blonde hair was perfectly styled. Diamonds glittered off her ears and fingers, the white pantsuit she wore was impeccable, and she carried a designer handbag with an iconic logo of interlocking C’s.
He held his breath as their eyes met and his own mother gave him a tight, brief smile that was clearly forced, as if she didn’t have time for this, for them. He waited for a click of recognition . . . waited, waited, waited, but there was none. It was as though she’d never met Remy in her entire life, and it was a painful, soul-shattering finality that cut him up like a jagged knife inside and left him bleeding from the raw, open wound that had never fully healed when she’d abandoned him all those years ago.
Remy honestly didn’t think it possible, but he was faced with irrefutable proof that he’d been wiped from her brain, her heart, her memory. He clearly didn’t exist as her son. Hell, he barely existed as a person to this very arrogant, rich, spoiled woman who’d turned her back on him for a better life.
Barely acknowledging him, Crystal glanced from the dessert in the middle of the table to Tempest. “Is it your birthday, dear?” she asked, though her tone was bored, as if she was forcing herself to be polite to a friend of her son’s.
“I . . . uh . . .” Tempest stammered, and Remy could feel the nervous energy coming off her in waves.
She didn’t know what to do, but Remy did.
“No, Mother, it’s my birthday,” he said, contempt dripping from his voice. “Your first son, Remy,” he added, just in case she needed the reminder.
Startled by his statement, Crystal frowned at Remy, but as she sharpened her stare, her initial confusion turned to wide-eyed shock. “Remy,” she breathed in disbelief.
Nothing else. Just his name, spoken as if he was a ghost. He waited a beat. Waited for something . . . what, he didn’t know, but there was no ecstatic homecoming. No joyous reunion. No warm hug or tears of regret. It was, he thought, the ultimate rejection.
Tempest’s grip on his thigh grew tighter, but her touch barely registered. His mother took a step back and just stared at him as if he was the equivalent of the plague. She didn’t want to even be near him, while Kyle glanced from his mother to Remy, then back again, obviously trying to make sense of what was happening. Of what he’d just heard Remy say.
“Mother?” Kyle asked. “I don’t understand.”
She remained silent and it was completely fitting that the candle on Remy’s birthday dessert burned out in that moment, snuffing out any chance he might have had to make the wish he’d been contemplating. The thin stream of smoke evaporating into the air mocked him for believing he might be good enough for Tempest. That he’d ever be the whole, complete, un-fucking-broken man she needed in her life.
Right now he was shattered inside. A million pieces fracturing what was left of his soul and leaving it irreparable.
Without another word, and with everyone else still mute, he forced himself to stand up, withdrew his wallet and tossed down a handful of bills on the table that would more than cover their bill, then headed out to the car, taking his humiliation with him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tempest was in such a state of shock that it took her a few moments after Remy left the table to gather up her things and follow him out. She put the photo she’d given him for his birthday into her purse and started scooting out of the booth, her only thought to get to the man she knew was dealing with so much inner turmoil and pain.
As soon as she stood, she saw Kyle glance at his mother, looking utterly bewildered by the scene that had just transpired between Crystal and Remy.
“Mom, what’s going on?” he asked again, this time his voice demanding an answer.
Crystal’s hand fluttered nervously to the necklace at her throat, her fingers fiddling with the diamond pendant. “It’s nothing, Kyle,” she replied in a dismissive tone.
Tempest had every intention of pushing past the two of them and ignoring whatever conversation they intended to have in favor of getting to Remy, but Crystal’s cold response—and the way she was sweeping this entire issue under the rug as if it was a pile of dirt she didn’t want to deal with—enraged Tempest beyond anything she’d ever felt before.
“It’s nothing?” Tempest repeated incredulously, startling the other woman with her heated, angry tone that
drew stares from guests at nearby tables, though she didn’t give a damn. “How can you call your firstborn son nothing?”
Kyle’s jaw dropped at that revelation, his expression stunned.
“This is none of your concern,” Crystal hissed in a low voice, her face flushed with embarrassment at being called out in a room full of affluent people. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tempest took the two steps that separated her from Crystal and got right up in the other woman’s face, unleashing all the fury she felt on Remy’s behalf in a nonstop tirade. “I know everything about the situation. I know you relinquished all your parental rights to Remy to marry some rich guy and never looked back, and when Remy was orphaned at fourteen after losing his father and needed someone to care for him, you refused to take him in, which meant he spent four years getting shuffled through the foster care system, all because you are a selfish, despicable woman who only cares about herself. You, Crystal Lowell, are rotten to the core.”
Crystal’s green eyes had grown wide with every word Tempest threw her way. “How dare you!” she snapped indignantly, lashing out more out of self-preservation in the face of being publicly shamed than anything else. “You know nothing about me or my life.”
“I know enough,” Tempest said bitterly, a part of her feeling sorry for Kyle having to find out that he had a half brother this way, but it wasn’t her problem, or even Remy’s. “You abandoned your firstborn son for a life of luxury. You rejected the best man I’ve ever known, but you know what? As hard as his life might have been, he was clearly better off without you in it.”
With nothing left to say, Tempest brushed past the furious woman and picked up her stride to get to Remy as soon as possible.
“Jesus Christ, Mother,” Tempest heard Kyle say behind her as she kept heading for the front door. “What the hell is going on?”