He's quiet for a minute, rubbing small circles around his temples until he finally speaks up. "I do…because it's Lana. She's special...this whole thing with her was special. I think that--"
His phone rings loudly, and in an instant, Michael's expression changes to his usual poker face as he answers it. "Yes? Will do. We're ready when you are. Yes. Both of us. Thank you." When he pockets the phone again, he's all business, the previous topic buried for now. "That was Paolo. Are you ready to get back to work, by any chance?"
Crossing my arms as I lean against the wall, I nod. "Yeah. I think I could use a distraction right about now."
And so, life goes back to how it was before Lana and Olivia breezed into our lives and made everything brighter.
17
LANA
I don’t consider myself to be snobby or stuck up in the slightest, but I can’t help feeling somewhat let down as I unlock the door to our new apartment, courtesy of my new client, Mrs. Maureen Heston. It’s clean and mostly well-equipped already, but it’s not nearly as big as the suite in the penthouse, and although I don’t want to admit it, it feels lonely here.
“I bet you’re excited to have your own room again,” I nudge Olivia, seeing the way she’s eyeing the place suspiciously. “No more having to share a room with your mom, right? Oh! And you’ll be closer to the library and school here. You can walk to the library, even.”
She plops her backpack down on the off-white couch. “It’s small, though. And I miss Joseph and Michael. And Rita, too.”
I think about how Rita’s eyes teared up before she left this morning after I’d already told her about us leaving. “I know, baby, and we’re still friends with them, but you know this is the way it has to be, right? They were my bosses, and now that Joseph’s better, my job is done and I need to work for someone else.”
She sinks into the couch, her arms folded. Clearly, she’s in rare form. “This is dumb. We were happy living with them. They let us use their car, and use the pool and stuff. And Michael was going to take us to Disneyland, and Joseph helps me with my hard math stuff. It’s not fair,” she says, deciding to jump up instead. “They would’ve been good dads,” she mumbles, slinging her backpack over her shoulder before saying something about going to unpack.
As the door quietly shuts to her room, my mouth is still hanging open. Just how much had Olivia picked up on, exactly? A tide of guilt breaks over me. Getting involved with Michael and Joseph the way I did… what was I thinking?
--
“Nomie’s here, Mom!” Olivia calls out, peeking through the blinds.
“Okay, okay,” I say, rushing to grab my cup of coffee. “Don’t forget to get your—”
Olivia holds up her lunch-bag. “Already got it.”
I give her a faint smile as someone, presumably Nomie, knocks on the door. “You know what? You forgot to brush your teeth, so why don’t you hop to it?”
I yank open the door in a rush, Nomie’s eyes wide as she takes in the frazzled look on my face. “Everything okay?”
I move aside, and can’t help but to laugh, even though there’s really nothing funny going on. “There’s just… a lot going on.”
She frowns. “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping too good.”
I brush her off, not really wanting to get into it with her, much less right as Olivia and Katie are due at school. “It’s just some post-client malaise sort of thing. I’m actually getting ready to meet my new patient today, so everything will go back to normal soon enough. I’ll feel better in no time.”
With a wish of good luck, Nomie waves at me as I give Olivia a kiss on the forehead. “Have a good day, baby.”
I barely have much time to finish my cup of coffee before I have to leave, too. It’s a quick walk, only a few blocks to get to Mrs. Heston’s lovely townhouse, the shutters on either side of the windows freshly painted red. From what I know about her, she’s living on her own for the most part, but at eighty-eight, she needs more help than just her staff waiting on her.
I smooth over my scrubs and fix my hair back behind my ear, taking in a deep breath and ringing the doorbell. Almost immediately, the door is pulled open, and a middle-aged woman smiles politely at me. “Miss Romero?”
I’m led up to the second floor, where Mrs. Heston obviously, judging by the poof of short curly hair, is sitting at a parlor table, eyeing me curiously.
“Mrs. Heston, I’m Lana, we spoke over the phone?” I say, extending my hand to carefully shake hers.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear,” she replies, her voice wheezing. She looks like one of those women who astound you with their competence, despite their age and frailty. “Please leave us, Diane.”
The woman nods and bows out of the room, shutting the parlor door behind her, leaving us to it.
After getting to know Mrs. Heston, I’m glad I decided to take up the job, even if it means having to move on from the Wrights. Feeling somewhat better about the situation—at least working with Mrs. Heston will be a lot easier without all that sexual tension going on, anyway—I fumble for my keys to the front door of my new apartment. Behind me, I hear apartment A’s door open up, and I tense, waiting for them to pass by.
“Hi there,” a gravelly voice says to me.
I turn, silently wishing I could just go collapse on the couch instead of having to make nice with a new neighbor, but I smile at him anyway. “Hello.”
The older man adjusts his glasses before giving me a little wave. “I’m Rick Sutterfield. My wife and I live here. We caught a glimpse of you and your daughter here this morning, and I thought I’d introduce myself. Margie is taking a nap at the moment but I’m sure she’d love to meet you, too.”
“I’m Lana, and that was my daughter, Olivia, you saw me with earlier. It’s nice to meet you, Rick.”
He nods. “Listen, Miss Lana, I wanted to let you know there was some fella over here a little while ago, banging on your door. He didn’t sound too happy with all the yelling and carryin’ on he was doing. By the time I made it out here to see what all the fuss was about, he was gone. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
“I don’t know who would…” my stomach sinks like a stone in a river. “Oh.”
He shuffles toward me, patting my shoulder with concern in his face. “I don’t want to put my nose where it doesn’t belong now, but if you ever need anything, just remember I’m right next door. And I may be an old coot, but I’m retired from the National Guard after twenty-eight years, and I keep a side-arm on me at all times,” he says, nodding again.
I paste on the most pitiful excuse for a smile and thank him before unlocking the door, slumping against it as I shut it. Javier. Javier knows where I live now.
My phone slips out of my pocket and falls to the floor. I eye it for a moment and pick it up, my fingers hovering over the screen. All it would take is one little phone call to Michael, but no. Deep down, I know I have no choice but to deal with Javier on my own. I can’t keep running from him and expect him to be none the wiser.
I straighten myself up, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was even holding, and place the phone on the dining room table. The edge of the check from Michael and Joseph is poking out underneath the mail I grabbed, still uncashed. Grabbing the nearest book, I slip it between the pages to keep myself from its temptation.
I need to be able to stand on my own two feet because I know how hard it is to pick yourself up when someone lets you down.
18
MICHAEL
It feels almost like a dirty secret, driving over to the Bayworth Apartment complex. The blinds to apartment B are closed, and there’s nothing to signify that anyone even lives here, much less that anyone’s home. It takes me a moment of going back and forth with how inappropriate this might be and how much I should care but don’t before I find her number on my phone.
M - How are things going at the new place?
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel until the ph
one vibrates in my lap.
L - I’ve had some issues but it’s all good now. How is Joseph doing?
Perhaps I should feel a sting of jealousy, but I don’t. I’m more concerned with the word ‘issues.’
M - He’s okay. Impatient as ever, but what else is new? I’m in the area and wanted to see if you wanted to meet me. Maybe you can tell me about these issues.
Lana keeps me waiting for much longer than the last text, but just as I’m about to toss the phone to the side, it buzzes.
L - I’m on call at the moment… but I’m home. Do you need the address?
I chuckle to myself, staring at the window across from me.
M - No, I’ve got it. Be right there.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, knocking on her door until I hear the lock slide out of place and the door opens. It hits me harder than I imagined, seeing her again, out of place and looking so exhausted. Maybe she has been having a harder time sleeping like I have, after all. “Hey,” I smile.
Lana’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes but she lets me in any way, her cheeks flushed. “That didn’t take very long…and, um, welcome to my humble abode.”
There are bland paintings and glass angels stuck here and there around the small open area, with a worn down tan couch and a small TV that sits across from it. The wicker dining room set looks about ready to be retired, and I can see some of the paint is chipping off the closet door, but it’s clean and cozy enough I suppose. Obviously not really my style, though. “This is a nice place.”
She lets out a snort that reminds me of just how close we’ve gotten since she first started working for us. Lana doesn’t feel the need to be polite anymore. “Hardly. But it’s a place to live, and my client provides it for me, free of charge. I can’t really argue with that.”
I want to say that she had a previous arrangement very similar to that, but I hold my tongue, smiling along with her instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a stack of mail sitting on the table and beside it is a copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories, complete with the edge of the check I presented her sticking out of it. I raise a brow and she follows my line of sight. “I didn’t think you would cash it,” I admit.
Her honey-colored skin flushes again as she busies herself with making a glass of ice water.
“How come?” Not sure whether I should push it, I’m surprised to see Lana’s shoulders slump and she turns back to me, the drink dripping condensation on the carpet at her feet.
“I’m not… really sure, actually. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just that I have a hard time.”
“With what?” I press.
She sighs. “I guess it doesn’t matter now…” Bracing herself, she finishes off half the glass of water. “Okay. I’m divorced.” She lets the soft declaration sit with me for a moment before continuing, “And for good reason. My ex-husband, Javier, Olivia’s father, he was not a good guy. I was young and in love, and stupidly thought that he’d change his ways once she was born, but I was wrong. His family is involved with some really shady business, and once I got over the novelty of Javier doing everything for me, I realized he was literally doing everything—controlling me, even. He made me so dependent on him, and when things got bad I didn’t have any place to go. No family, no money, no job…” A sob escapes her throat but she pushes through it, steel resolve in her dark eyes. “I was barely able to keep Livi, and now he’s sniffing around again, trying to break back into our lives and I want no part of it. I just want to be left alone.”
Every single fiber of my being is alarmed, the idea of someone like that after Lana and Olivia makes me want to punch things. I rack my brain for answers, my hands gesturing wildly as I pace the floor. “We can hire a security team. Top of the line—they’ll make sure he can’t get anywhere near you, and of course, Joseph and I have Gerome Banks, one of the best damn attorneys in the world, on retainer. We can secure a restraining order for you and Olivia, no problem—”
She leans forward on the couch. “No, absolutely not. See, this is the kind of abnormal life I’m trying to avoid with Olivia. What’s going to happen? Am I going to be under observation forever?”
I pause, trying to follow her thoughts, but set in my own kind of frustration. Doesn’t she see? It would be so much easier if she would stop being so damn stubborn about things. “I swear, it’s just that we care about you and Olivia, Lana. I just want you two to be safe, and this doesn’t sound like a safe situation. Please,” I say, glancing over at the check, “just cash the check. Put it in a college fund, send her to Wellington-Meade, get yourself far away from your ex-husband—whatever you want to do with it. Just please take the help.”
“I don’t know, Michael.”
Dropping down to my knees in front of her, I take her chin in my hand and tilt it up so that I’m looking her right in the eyes. God, she’s beautiful. “I’d be… less inclined to bother you if I knew you were taken care of. Even if it’s on your own terms, Lana. I swear it.”
When I see the tears prick at her eyes, turning them glassy, I lean forward and kiss her, breaking all of the deep-down promises I’d made myself on the way over here. She tastes like everything I’ve been struggling to grasp ahold of lately, the salt of her tears spilling down the sides. With her hands wrapping around my neck, I pull her tighter against me, gliding my tongue along hers, aching for more.
Her hands slide away, and she stops, her breath hitching as she whispers, “Nomie is picking Olivia up from school today… they’ll be home soon. We can’t.”
I knew it would end like this, but it was worth it. So worth it. “Promise me you will go right to the bank and deposit that check once she’s home. Okay? Lana?”
She leans her forehead against mine but nods. “Okay.”
It’s like ripping away my own arm, standing up and pulling away from her. I grit my teeth as I look away. “How’s she doing?”
She knows exactly what I mean. “She misses you. Both of you. I think she’s mad at me. And Joseph? How is he?”
With my arms folded across my chest, I turn back to face her. “He’s a mess. What do you expect? He’s doing his best, but he’s having a hard time.” And he’s not the only one, I silently add. Leaning in one last time, I place my hands on either side of her face and kiss her forehead. “I’d better get going.”
The emptiness I feel as I get back into the car is only helped by the phone call I make.
“Hello, it’s Michael Wright. I’m going to need some extra long-term security. The two best damn surveillance people you have on staff. We need to keep this as discreet as possible.”
19
JOSEPH
I can’t remember the last time I was stuck sitting at the damn desk, staring down a mountain of boring paperwork, when I could be sailing down a real mountain with powder at my feet, but then again, that’s what got me into this whole thing in the first place. “Maybe paperwork is the lesser of two evils,” I mutter myself. Anything to distract from the huge hole that Lana’s absence has created inside of me. I’m not one to go waxing poetic or anything, but that shit is pretty painful, and it’s the kind of pain I’ve been avoiding for a long time. She snuck into my heart, though, without me even realizing what was happening and by the time I did realize, it was too late.
I try my best to lose myself in the proceedings with Paolo’s company when I’m startled by the door to my office opening abruptly. Wincing from the sudden tightness in my back, I roll my eyes.
In comes Michael, an unreadable expression on his face. As he shuts the door behind him, he takes a long-measured look at my desk overflowing with work. “You’re not usually one to bury yourself in work.”
As if he should be complaining. “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do, bro? I don’t understand why we’re not out there trying to win Lana back, making her see how much we care about her. Doesn’t make a damn bit of sense if you ask me.”
Michael leans against the doorframe, shrugging. “She wants
to be left alone. I would think that you of all people would know what that feels like. We should respect that.”
Tapping my fingers together, I’m wondering what brought him and his self-righteous ass in my office to begin with. Didn’t he have something better to do? But the more I look at him, the way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands shoved carelessly in his pockets, the more I realize something’s up. Thelma had asked me earlier if I had seen Michael, so if he wasn’t in his office, where the hell had he been?
“Where did you just come from?” I ask him slowly, watching with interest as he quickly looks away.
“Why are you so interested? I thought you had work to do?” he counters, pointing to the stack of folders.
I lean forward. “Where. Were. You?”
Everything in my brother seems to slowly seep out, and the pretentiousness goes along with it. Whatever fight that was in his eyes a moment ago, has burned away. “I went to go check on her.”
Shoving away from my desk, I push myself to a stand, my fingers splayed violently on the desk. “What the actual fuck, Michael? Seriously? Does she want to be left alone? What kind of lying bullshit are you spewing now? This is a new level of low, even for you. You just want her all to yourself, and to hell with me.”
Something shifts in Michael’s eyes. “I would never. I know how you feel about her, too. How could you possibly think that I would do something like that? Run around behind your back like that?” His voice is soft, hurt but I could hardly care less.
“Newsflash, asshole, that’s exactly what you just did! You literally went to see her behind my back, in the same breath as telling me that I need to respect her privacy. You just want me to respect her privacy, so you can be all up in it, right?”
BILLIONAIRE BROTHERS: A MFM MENAGE ROMANCE Page 10