The Billionaire's Kisses: Billionaire Brothers

by Julie Farrell

  Adam smiled affectionately at her. “No wait, I’ve got an idea. Let’s go talk to him.”

  “You won’t upset him will you, Adam?”

  “No, no. I’m protective of you, but not cruel. But he can help us. Come on.”

  Adam knocked on James’s door, then strolled in without being invited.

  “What do you two want?” James growled. “Come to rub my nose in it?”

  Adam perched on the edge of James’s desk. Amy loitered just inside the door, not wanting to provoke these two squabbling suitors. She noticed that James’s desk was a complete mess – it was covered in scrunched up bits of paper, discarded old mugs, and empty fast-food containers. How had she never noticed what a slob he was before?

  “Did you find somewhere to sleep last night?” Adam asked, sincerely.

  “Yes thank you,” James spat.

  “Good. Now listen, James, I bear you no animosity – as long as you leave Amy alone.”

  “You threatening me?”

  Adam held up his hands. “No, not at all. But I need a favour. How would you like to redeem yourself after what you did to her?”

  James glanced over and stared quizzically at Amy for a moment. His eyes looked tired behind his thick-rimmed glasses. He frowned in surprise, as if noticing her – really noticing her – for the first time. She wasn’t just boring old Amy anymore, but there was a torch shining out of her – she could feel it, and he could see it. Maybe Frank had been right – perhaps she did look more confident and alive. Perhaps regular orgasms did that to a woman. They made her feel powerful and in control; yet content and peaceful. It was surely a power that could be harnessed by women everywhere – with a little guidance on how to do it.

  James darted his eyes back to Adam. “What could I possibly do for you?”

  “You’re an IT guy, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, I need some technical assistance.”

  “Why should I help you?”

  Adam smirked in that cheeky way of his. “Okay, I won’t mention the fact that I’m now your boss. Like I say, here’s your chance to make amends for what you did to Amy. I know you care about her. You can help her.”

  “What could I do?”

  “I can’t explain all the details right now, but do you know how to set up a hidden camera and mic, so we can listen to a conversation from a distance?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good. And you can track the location of the mic? So we know where the person is at all times?”

  “Yeah, should be easy enough – the technology’s definitely available. But – just to let you know – the radio transmission of the mic would be lost if the person went on the subway or anywhere out of range. But as long as they stay in range and above ground – it’s actually pretty easy. You could monitor it on a laptop.”

  “Sounds great – we’ll be above ground, so no problem. Can you do it now, please, before we leave for the weekend?”

  “I do have work to do, you know.”

  “Sure, I get that. And I admire your commitment to your job. But this is to help Amy. As well as possibly furthering peace-on-earth and the progress of humanity.”

  James snorted. “You Americans are so bloody melodramatic. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, James. Amy, we’ll attach the mic and camera to you when you meet with Tariq. That way, I can be doubly sure nothing will happen to you.”

  Amy grinned. “That’s a great idea. Okay, James, here’s your chance to redeem yourself after doing the dirty on me.”

  James gazed at her. “Amy, just… look, I know he’s handsome, wealthy, and charismatic, but what is it you like about him more than me?”

  Amy laughed in shock. She stepped further inside and stood in front of his desk. “Well, for a start, I didn’t find him screwing his assistant.”

  “And you never will,” Adam said. “Cheating’s one thing that makes my blood boil.”

  James rolled his eyes. “Listen to Mr Sanctimonious, as he comes over here and drags our company out from under our feet.”

  Adam opened his mouth to defend himself, but Amy got in there first.

  “But, the thing is, James… well, when you were screwing your assistant, I wonder – did you ever take a moment to consider what it was like for her?”

  James frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did she enjoy it?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t really know.”

  “Well, maybe that’s your answer. Adam makes me feel special. And not only because he cares enough to help me orgasm, but –”

  James gasped. “But you told me you couldn’t orgasm.”

  “And you never bothered to try to prove me wrong, did you? To make an effort for me? And you were like that in our entire relationship. You didn’t care enough about me to find out what makes me happy – in fact, you couldn’t even be bothered to pick your socks up off the bathroom floor, even though you knew it annoyed me. It’s not that you’re selfish. You just didn’t seem worried about my happiness. But it’s caring about each other’s happiness that makes a relationship work. I realise that now.”

  James gazed at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  She smiled. “It’s alright. We live and we learn. Nothing’s ever wasted.”

  Adam grinned at her, and she laughed, feeling the constraints of the past drop away, and the future up ahead sparkle with optimism.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The weekend passed in a blur of joy – Amy was proud to show Adam the glorious springtime parks in London, her favourite cafés, and more of herself than she had done with any other man before, physically and mentally. The sex continued to be mind-blowing, and the conversations between them had bonded her to Adam in ways that she never knew possible. Being with Adam was as natural as breathing; Amy was so comfortable with him that there was a seamless transition from laughing in sex shops, to sharing painful stories about their childhoods. But, of course, reality crept swiftly around the corner of Amy’s happy little bubble, and Sunday night arrived. The flight back to New York on Adam’s jet was as fun as the journey to London, and once they arrived, he invited her to stay at his place until she was able to sort out her own Manhattan pad – to be paid for by Quinlan Brothers, of course. Amy would be working for them now.

  Adam’s apartment took Amy’s breath away. Luxury was an understatement. It took up the entire floor of an exclusive skyscraper – which was home to some of the richest people in the City. With its twenty-four-hour concierge and massive gym in the basement, the entire building reeked of money, but Adam’s place was relaxed and unpretentious, – rather like the man himself. The immaculate living room was like a hotel suite, with huge couches, and a breathtaking view over Manhattan, and the white walls were hung with colourful modern art that made the place feel fun. When they’d first arrived here, Amy had thoroughly enjoyed riding Adam on the massive soft rug in the centre of the room – before he’d carried her off to the bedroom, to roll around on his satin sheets for more fantastic lovemaking.

  But today the atmosphere was tense and serious. Amy sat in the living room, dressed in her pencil skirt, suit jacket, and heels, mentally preparing herself to meet Tariq Shard once again. The door-buzzer sounded, so Adam went off to answer it, then he led Dylan though to sit down with them.

  Amy was delighted when Adam sat next to her on the couch and held her hand. This private show of affection in front of his brother spoke volumes, making Amy feel proud and accepted.

  Dylan sat opposite them, looking tired and weary. “Hey, Amy, nice weekend? How was London?”

  “Good, thanks. It was great to show Adam around.”

  Adam threw her a cheeky grin, but refrained from making any sexual innuendos. There was enough tension between ‘the new girlfriend’ and ‘the gruff brother’ without Adam needing to complicate things with a flirty joke.

  “So are you ready to meet our nemesis?” Dylan asked.

  �
��Yeah, I think so.”

  Adam leaned forward to explain the plan. “We’ve got a hidden mic and camera on Amy, so we’ll be able to keep track of her every move – just in case he tries anything. We can sit in the car and monitor her from the laptop – listen to what he’s saying and even record him if he confesses anything.”

  “Sounds great,” Dylan said. “And where are you meeting him? In a restaurant?”

  “Um, no,” Amy said. “At his house. He gave me his address.”

  Both men gazed at her in shock.

  “You’re not serious?” Adam asked.

  Amy shrugged. “That’s what he wants. What’s the problem?”

  “I thought you’d meet in a public place,” Adam said. “I’m not happy with this.”

  “Why? I’ll have my cell phone; you’ll be monitoring me. And I do know how to use a front door. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Adam squeezed her hand gently. “Tariq lives in his late-parents’ house on the outskirts of town… it’s this big old mansion on a hill. Middle of nowhere, you know? I’d prefer it if you could meet in a café – and sit in the window where we can see you.”

  Amy tried not to get drawn into Adam’s worries – she was nervous enough as it was. “Well, it’s too late to change things now – he’ll get suspicious. You’ll be monitoring me with the camera and mic. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Well, if he tries to hurt you, I’ll fucking break his arms.”

  “I’m sure he’s not planning on harming her, Adam,” Dylan said.

  Adam glared at his brother. “Not unless he wants a ticket straight to hell...”

  Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but Adam continued talking. “Look, Dylan, there’s something we need to tell you…”

  Dylan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not getting married, are you?”

  Adam burst into laughter. “No!” He glanced at Amy. She blushed at the thought – but how sweet that such a notion had entered Dylan’s mind and popped out of his mouth! She wondered what Adam had been saying to his brother about her. Or perhaps he’d noticed a change in Adam’s behaviour. Amy felt proud that she’d won the heart of this playboy and tamed him for the better.

  Adam fell serious. “I’m gonna tell you the truth about Ivan. It’s what Tariq told Amy…”

  Dylan stiffened. “Right?”

  “Yeah… I’ll get you a drink. Be right back.”

  “Why, Adam? Let’s just hear it.”

  Adam ignored him and sped off to the kitchen, leaving Amy to chat with someone who clearly didn’t enjoy small talk.

  She reached out to the designer coffee table and picked up the cup of tea she’d made before Dylan had arrived. She stared into the warm liquid and prepared herself to ask Dylan about his weekend, but shock made her almost drop her cup, as he spoke sincerely.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole to you, Amy. It’s been a tough month. I do appreciate what you’re doing for us today. Especially after what we’re doing to your company.”

  She forced herself to relax. “Thank you for saying that. And it’s fine. We all cope with loss differently. I know I wasn’t the nicest to be around when my mother died.”

  “Well, we certainly can’t say that about you now.”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying I think you’re nice, that’s all.”

  She sipped her tea. “Oh. Thanks.”

  Dylan shrugged. “You know Adam’s never brought a woman back here, don’t you?”

  “Why not? It’s lovely.”

  He chuckled kindly. “It’s not that he’s ashamed. He just never likes to let women in. I guess I’m the same. He must think you’re pretty darn special.”

  “Thank you. I think he’s pretty darn special, too.”

  They shared a smile and Amy felt her tension slip away. It was good to have Dylan’s blessing. They held affectionate eye contact for a moment, and the air between them vibrated with peace.

  Dylan slapped the couch decisively. “We won’t let anything happen to you with Tariq today, okay. We’ll park down the road and make sure you’re safe. We Quinlans look after our own.”

  “I know. Thank you, Dylan.”

  Adam strode back in carrying a large whiskey, which he held out for Dylan to take.

  “What’s this for? It’s not even lunchtime.”

  “Just drink it. You’ll need it.”

  Dylan slowly took the proffered glass. “Okay?”

  Adam sat back down on the couch next to Amy and held her hand. He winced at Dylan. “The thing is, it’s possible your suspicions about Tariq being responsible for Ivan’s death might be right. But maybe not quite how you thought.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The house stood at the top of a hill, looming over the empty road below. In this pouring April rain, it resembled something from an Alfred Hitchcock movie, with its gothic design and dark brickwork. Amy slammed the door to the taxi and ran in her tight skirt and heels up the crumbling stone steps, feeling surreal. The secret camera and mic she was wearing on the lapel of her jacket made her feel like a private detective – she’d never been in a situation like this before, and it was disconcerting.

  Trying not to slip on the wet steps, she wished she was back in Adam’s king-size bed, where she’d woken up this morning. But at least she was safe in the knowledge that Adam and Dylan were parked at the end of the road, out of sight around the corner, like a couple of cops on a stakeout. She knew there was no way Adam would let anything happen to her.

  But there was something eerie about Tariq’s home. He lived in the old family mansion on the outskirts of town, and it was clear that he’d hardly done any work on it since his parents had passed away a few years ago. It loomed over the surrounding area, which was also Tariq’s land, so there weren’t any other houses in the vicinity. Amy knew that being afraid didn’t necessarily mean there was anything to be afraid of, but she still took a moment to compose herself, before reaching out to ring the rusty doorbell.

  She straightened her suit and brushed her hair out of her eyes, hoping she looked professional and trustworthy. As she waited on the doorstep, she ran through the plan in her head. It was simple, but maybe not so easy. She was going to pretend that she’d convinced Adam to give her one of the blueprints from Ivan’s file, then she could hopefully get Tariq to admit that he was blackmailing her, and they could double-blackmail him. And perhaps eventually she might get him to admit that he murdered Ivan.

  But she still wasn’t sure if he was capable of that.

  The heavy wooden door creaked open and Tariq appeared in the doorway. He threw Amy a childlike grin, then gasped. “You’re soaking wet! Come in.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stepped over the threshold and dripped on the threadbare carpet as he closed the door. Her heart thumped with nerves – what if he was to discover her recording device? But surely she could handle him. Yes, he was six-foot tall with a shaved head, but he seemed so gentle. Today he was dressed in a turtle-neck sweater and jeans, which made him seem even less threatening. The scar on his face looked painful, but his mood was boyish and jovial, as if he was excited about having a guest over.

  “I’ll get a blanket to wrap around your shoulders,” he said. “Why don’t you go through to the living room?”

  “Oh, it’s okay – I’m really not that wet.”

  “Well, alright. But you go through; I’ll make you some tea.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  In the living room, Amy perched on a red velvet chaise-longue among antique paintings and cluttered trinkets. She wrung her hands together, wondering whether Adam and Dylan were able to see what she could see. She really wished they’d set up some way of communicating with each other. James had said the radio signal could be lost if she went… where was it? Underground or out of range. How far was out of range? He hadn’t said. Shit.

  “I hope you’re watching over me,” she muttered.

  Tariq appeared a few moments lat
er with a silver tray of tea things. He placed the tray on the mahogany coffee table, then sat down in an old armchair. A spring boinged beneath him, making him chuckle. He seemed small in this huge cluttered room, which caused sympathy to spiral up inside Amy. He lived alone here, probably missing Ivan like crazy, and thinking of nothing but how Adam and Dylan had stolen his life’s work.

  She reached over to pour the tea, reminding herself whose side she was supposed to be on.

  “So…” she said. “Nice house you’ve got here.”

  “Thank you. I grew up here and I can’t bear to part with the old place. My parents bought it when they first came over from Persia – before dad joined the army – and their memories are all here. I miss them, especially my mother. While I’m here, she’s still alive a little bit.”

  Amy added a dash of milk to her tea. There was a sinister awkwardness about the way Tariq spoke of his dead mother that made Amy briefly hope her remains weren’t stashed in the basement. Amy shook herself out it. She was just nervous because of the hidden camera, but this man was no threat to her. He was gentle and harmless. It was probably just the sound of the rain hammering against the old window panes that was creeping her out so much.

  She sipped her tea. “I’m sorry for your loss. I also lost my mother too young. It hurts every single day.”

  He threw her a sad smile of camaraderie. “I know. But they’ll always be with us, Amy. People never really leave – they just move a little further away.”

  “I know.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry I blackmailed you. I was getting desperate and I didn’t know what else to do. I promise, it’s really not my style.”

  “I guess you had your reasons, right? Are you hoping – with my help – that you’ll stay out of prison?”

  His eyes flashed with anger. “Prison? I can’t go back there. When I was in custody, I had to fight for survival – just to keep my shoes. They don’t like my type. Prison makes slaves of people like me; rewarding ignorance and tearing down intelligence. Bullies and cowards. It’s always been the same. Adam and Dylan were the same when we were younger – reminding me of my inadequate failings. But Ivan stuck up for me. I loved him dearly, even then.”