What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  Every now and then, Alec was struck by how little the three of them looked alike. They all had blue eyes, but Connor stayed fair-haired past childhood, and although the same height as him, he had a more lithe, lean frame. Brandon towered over them both and had a medium-frame and light brown hair. Alec, although the second tallest, had the largest frame of them all—built in the gym. Brandon always asked him for tips to bulk up, and Alec never knew what to tell him—he had no need to stack up on pills and powders—his body just responded to his exercises.

  “You should totally audition to play Clark Kent sometime,” Brandon had told him once, as if he’d ever be interested in acting. Alec had assumed his brother suggested it because of his eyes, dark hair, and heavily muscled physique, but then he quickly realized that his brother probably meant it mostly because of the geek who lived underneath it all.

  Anyone who met Alec now would never imagine what he was like before, but neither he nor his brothers could forget.

  These days, Alec was well aware of the effect his evolved physicality had on women, and why they had no chance against him or his brothers since, beyond their billions, women considered them ‘dreamy.’ They had even had women approach them with an interest in sleeping with all of them, but the idea did not appeal to Alec.

  One girl had wanted them all on the same night, and Connor had been down for it, but of course, wanted to go first. Another simply went after both him and Connor after sleeping with Brandon. Connor took her up on her offer, but Alec refused; he was not interested in any of his brothers’ sloppy seconds—the same night or otherwise.

  Connor broke away from his current girl to briefly hug him and Brandon. He wished them a happy birthday, and then went back to the girl’s side.

  “These are my brothers: Alec, and Brandon—my twin. Fraternal, obviously.”

  The girl smiled at each of them in turn, shaking hands with her fingertips.

  “This is Melissa,” Connor said, smiling at her.

  She frowned briefly, but corrected him with a smile: “Clarissa,” she said.

  Connor whispered something in her ear and she giggled, and then he led her away from them toward the stairs.

  Brandon rolled his eyes. “Sacred ground, huh?” he said with a wry smile as he watched the couple ascend.

  Alec observed Brandon examining the girl’s butt under her flimsy bikini coverup.

  “Well, nothing’s sacred to Connor,” Alec grumbled, trying not to feel put off; after all, the three of them used the house at various times of the year to rendezvous, even though it officially belonged to him. But this day was supposed to be about just them, and the house was supposed to stay clean—at least for one day.

  Alec would remind Connor later.

  “I’m itching to ride some waves,” Brandon said. “While he’s busy up there, I’m gonna hit the surf. Be back in a reasonable time.”

  An hour later, the girl avoided eye contact with him as she and Connor came down the stairs, and then headed outside.

  Great, Alec thought. He knew his impatience was a bit selfish, and that they probably never got right to their game the day of the meet-up, but he couldn’t help it; this year’s challenge was especially important.

  Their usual chef arrived, and he finished making dinner before Alec’s brothers made their way back inside.

  Alec waited until after the chef left.

  “Wait, so no hot masseuses this year, bro? What’s up with that?” Brandon asked, toweling off.

  “Your party planning skills are fading, brother; I’m disappointed,” Connor agreed. “We had that sick-ass party the first year…”

  “And ended up with a million in damage,” Alec pointed out.

  “Yeah, but, come on—how much fun was that? I didn’t even know half those people who showed up…”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “…but it sure as hell didn’t matter. Shit was unbelievable.”

  “Yeah, and we had to pay off a few who tried to hold us liable for a few things.”

  “Meanwhile, last year was off the chain,” Brandon jumped in. “All those amazing nude female living statues, the burlesque show, the aerialists…”

  “And now this year, what—we just get sushi,” Connor said, staring down at the spread. “Pretty fucking amazing sushi, I’ll admit, but that’s it?”

  “I figured we’d take it easy this year. Relax. You guys have probably been working hard at one thing or another for the year—I know I have. And I am beat.”

  “You’re getting old, bro—that’s all there is to it.”

  Brandon shared a glance and chuckle with Connor.

  Alec couldn’t help but smile. Mid-twenties was nowhere near old. Besides, his brothers were pretty much right behind him.

  “Perhaps,” Alec said. “My priorities are certainly changing.”

  “Oh boy. I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Connor said, popping some sort of eel roll in his mouth.

  Alec took a breath. “Look, I’ve been thinking, and our game this year—I’m thinking we go after someone we met a long time ago. Secondary school days or earlier.”

  Alec was almost surprised birds hadn’t started tweeting into the silence. His brothers only stared at him with blank eyes.

  “May I remind you that last year, we dated VS models?” Brandon said.

  “I remember.”

  “Genetic freaks, remember? Tall, thin but curvy bods, gorgeous faces…just overall exceptional beauts…”

  “I know!”

  “And the year before that, we snatched up some juicy little pop stars at the top of their game. Remember that?” Brandon asked.

  “And the year before that,” Connor said, “what was it, hot athletes? Or budding actresses? Point is: high profile, high maintenance, well-manicured, well-groomed women. Women who are used to this life or expect to be treated with some reverence. Who are trying to play it cool while hoping we decide to sweep them up permanently. Am I wrong?”

  Alec sighed. He had anticipated the resistance, but he hadn’t anticipated it to feel so draining.

  And Connor didn’t stop there. “So let me get this straight—you’re suggesting we go after just…some chick we happened to go to school or church or whatever with?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be running away from that type?” Brandon said. “You do remember our high school girls, right? Do you really think any of them are ready for us today?”

  “Oh, I get it,” Connor said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Therein lies the challenge. Finding one who isn’t already married with six kids, and who doesn’t make us want to gag.” He shook his head. “This one doesn’t sound fun at all.”

  “Come on, Con, we’re twenty-four; they’re around the same age. Most of them haven’t gone to shit yet, right?” Brandon looked at Alec like he might have the answer.

  “I’d imagine there’s some girl you met in the first eighteen years of your life you wouldn’t mind revisiting,” Alec said firmly.

  “Honestly, it strikes me as kind of cruel,” Brandon replied. “The girls we date now—they know what to expect, and after us, they’re on to the next rich guy. These poor hometown girls—they’re not asking for any of this. What, we’re just gonna swoop in, show them a good time, and then bounce as usual with them not knowing how to get back to regular life?”

  “Aw, Brandon. You mean you care? A heart of gold beneath the man-whore behavior?” Connor made a mocking puppy face. “Spare me,” he said. “We’d be doing them a favor. When next would they have the chance to get treated like a princess for a week or however long we’re doing this? Don’t you think they’d be grateful for the chance? You think when they’re eighty they won’t look back on the time they dated that hot billionaire and smile? This is what they all want—some whirlwind romance. So okay, let’s do it. The Hometown Hottie.” Connor shook his head slowly. “Wow. Well, finding the prospects might be harder, but it should be the
easiest thing in the world to get a regular girl to fall for our charms. According to my observations and experience so far, every woman desires to be a high-class prostitute—to sell herself to the highest bidder in exchange for a life of luxury; a life every woman is born or conditioned to think she deserves. A life we—the providers and protectors—owe her, the princess or queen she thinks she is.”

  Alec realized that Connor spoke with some bitterness. Shouldn’t he be happy about such terms and conditions? It seemed that he took every opportunity to enjoy those types of women—sought them out, in fact, and therefore, wouldn’t know any other way.

  “I’ll have to break out the yearbook on this one,” Brandon said. “ ’Cause I have no clue where to start.”

  But Alec knew exactly who he wanted to go after: Dahlia Bridges.

  He would honestly be disappointed if she just fell into his arms like the rest, but he looked forward to seeing how long it would take.

  “Here’s the twist,” Alec said. “You have to wait two weeks before sleeping with her. And whoever gets her to say, ‘I love you’ first and still stays with her at least three months after, wins the title to this beach house.”

  Brandon shrugged. “This should be cake.”

  Chapter Two

  Unexpected Delays

  Dahlia couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched—or worse yet, followed.

  She felt eyes on her as she left her apartment holding her little boy’s hand, but when she glanced around, she caught no one looking.

  She felt a stare burning into her back as she dropped Angelo off, his little hand finally leaving hers as he dashed forward in excitement about his first day at preschool.

  Before he disappeared into the classroom, his tiny form turned around and said, “See you soon, Mommy!” and it made her break into a smile.

  The smile disappeared once she was outside again, heading toward her car.

  The eerie feeling of being watched had returned, creeping her out even more since she couldn’t remember if she had locked her car or not.

  She approached her car slowly, and then felt silly when no one attacked her from the back seat once she got inside.

  Who would watch me, and why? she had to ask herself. It made no sense; after all, Angelo’s father had taken off before he was born and never looked back. What would he want with them now?

  She couldn’t help wondering if she was about to get a taste of the excitement that seemed to follow her sister, Zinnia, around. Zinnia had told her several stories of weirdos who had violated her privacy and their employment contracts by using the info obtained about her from their job.

  “Can you believe this dude sent me a love letter? Talking ’bout he met me at this bar and he was the bartender? He straight up told me he remembered my address from my ID—like I was supposed to be impressed and think that was so romantic.”

  “Definitely report him,” Dahlia had advised her.

  “And did I tell you about that pizza delivery guy who delivered my pizza, and then tried to friend me on Facebook later that night? And when I didn’t accept his request, he called me a few days later, since he still had my number from the delivery. I’m a hypocrite, though—or at least, I can’t lie—I have a double standard. That bartender wasn’t cute, so that shit was gross and creepy—even worse for the pizza guy. But this car salesman did something similar, and he was fine as hell; I had no problem with him calling me up using the information he obtained.”

  Dahlia only shook her head and reminded her sister to take the creeps seriously, while also thinking that she probably had nothing to worry about—her sister led sort of a charmed life.

  Plus, Zinnia said she would at least change her name on social media to make herself harder to find. Dahlia briefly considered doing the same, and then remembered she only had about eighty ‘friends’ on Facebook—the one social media account she allowed herself—and her friend list was filled mostly with family and old high school and college acquaintances.

  Angelo’s father had unfriended her long ago, and she only had one questionable request the whole time she’d been on there.

  Needing to be on alert for a potential stalker could only be wishful thinking; no one was checking for her like that.

  Alec liked what he saw.

  His investigator had returned with flat stats, figures, and facts, and when he asked him what Dahlia looked like, the man had shrugged and said, “Decent,” but that wasn’t the answer Alec was looking for.

  Alec needed to see her—to see if she was the girl he remembered, and see what the girl he knew had grown into. He had never been particularly obsessed with women who were supposed to be tens, but he at least wanted to know Dahlia had been taking care of herself, and looked healthy and happy.

  And he was not disappointed.

  As soon as he saw her, his heart fluttered. He recognized the girl under the woman’s face, and she had the same look about her as she did way back then.

  Lovely, he could imagine his mother saying as a polite comment on her looks.

  He suspected Brandon might see a bit of what he saw in Dahlia—beyond lovely—while Connor would likely refrain from commenting altogether, unimpressed. But to Alec, with her sweet, round face and beautiful soul, Dahlia was, at the very least, lovely.

  She had been super skinny in junior high, but in the decade since, her body had found beautiful womanly curves almost hidden by her matronly choice in clothes. Alec couldn’t wait to take her on a shopping spree and get her in things that would show off her assets better.

  Her makeup was modest, and her hair was pulled back into a bun, but she still looked cute despite her overall understated look, and it seemed to him that she dressed to say she was not on the market. He figured that her son taking priority in her life was the reason.

  Most importantly, Dahlia’s manner seemed as he remembered. Despite clearly having a lot on her plate, she still carried her head high, and her overall spirit was gentle, yet strong although still, to his dismay, not entirely free or happy. Despite his previous pleasant encounters with her years and years ago and her easy smile, she always seemed to be carrying a burden. He could imagine all sorts of scenarios for why she had a weight on her shoulders now, but what on earth could it have been back then?

  All the information gathered on her told him that she was a hard worker and a dedicated mother.

  That she was a mother didn’t even bother him to the extent he might have thought it would, had he considered the possibility. It made him even more curious about her—about the twists and turns her life had taken, and how far she was from where she had wanted to go.

  All Alec had needed to know for now was whether or not the child’s father was around—which he wasn’t—and if, despite his P.I.’s lukewarm response about her appearance, Dahlia would still hit him the way she had so many years ago.

  As he continued to watch her, he found himself smiling at the bouncy little boy with her, the child’s temperament freer than his mother’s, as most children. His sweet face was half-taken up by a thick pair of glasses, making him look like a super-tanned kiddie version of Harry Potter.

  Alec noticed Dahlia looking around suspiciously as she left her apartment building, and as she dropped the boy off at school. Her instincts were good—another plus. It was clear that her inner alarm had gone off, and that she sensed someone’s eyes on her.

  Alec had made sure his vehicle was out of sight in her neighborhood, but his car was definitely visible at the moment. He almost ducked, but then he remembered that she wouldn’t be able to see him behind the tinted windows.

  Still, her eyes briefly assessed his vehicle as she headed to her own.

  Once she got in, he knew exactly what her day was going to be like; he had been watching her for a while now and knew her patterns. He wanted to tell her not to be so predictable, to stop making herself so easy a target. Take a different route home and to work every now and then, for crying out loud. He almost didn’t need his investig
ator; with enough observation, he knew when and where she shopped for groceries, what she bought store brand versus name brand, and what day and time she took her child to the neighborhood playground.

  She rarely veered from her schedule, leaving home within the same fifteen-minute timeframe, picking up her kid within ten minutes of school being out. She even ate at the same place for lunch. She did everything within a tight schedule, like clockwork. Admirable, but dangerous—although probably necessary, having to do so much by herself.

  Either way, he couldn’t take much more. Enough watching—he had to make a move; he had to let her know that she didn’t need to be alone, and today was that day—he had made sure of it.

  Alec rarely encountered an occasion where money didn’t talk, and it had been almost too easy to get Dahlia delayed at work and to plan several obstacles, courtesy of the coveted paper.

  Dahlia couldn’t believe her bad luck. How was it that so many things could go wrong in such a short period of time? Getting that weird, useless phone call, and then finding some idiot had blocked her car in. What kind of asshole parked like that? Then he had the nerve to run out of the building ten minutes later, apologizing.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally on her way to Angelo’s school.

  She had to remind herself she was lucky to have found a job with daycare facilities where Angelo could stay until she got off just a few hours later at five. She just hoped that a fifteen-minute delay didn’t make her too late coming back from her lunch break.

  “Mommy!”

  Dahlia was aware of her small boy running toward her, but she was more aware of the proximity of the strange man who seemed to have been acquainting himself with her child.

  “Hi, baby!” she forced out, wanting to confront the stranger, and trying to find a way to do so without alarming or scaring Angelo, or causing a scene.

  Was the man a pedophile? He didn’t quite strike her as one, but what else was he doing?