“Was he really the brother?”
She shakes her head. “The guy was simply his best friend. Eduardo had called him his brother so it’d seem like he had family at our wedding.”
“You must have felt like nothing he’d said was true.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly how I felt.”
“Jesus, Elise,” I say, my shoulders sagging as the enormity of that double-whammy sinks in. “I wish I knew what to say except that sounds bloody awful.”
“It was.” She squares her shoulders. “But you move on. You learn from your mistakes.” Her eyes are fierce now as she meets my gaze straight-on. “That’s why I like things the way they are between us. I like things prescribed and in control. I like that they’re not consuming.”
“I like it too,” I say, because I like my lifestyle. I don’t need to venture down a more serious road when the road I’m riding is smooth. “And I assure you, I’m not secretly married to anyone else.”
“Excellent. No secret identities either?”
I glance at the ceiling, as if hemming and hawing. “Well, I do moonlight as a cape-wearing superhero with super strength and a killer grin.” I flash her a smile that makes her laugh. “But other than that, I’m just me.” I strip the teasing away and look at her earnestly. “But that’s the truth. It’s just me.”
“Good. I like knowing where you stand. That’s honestly the only way I want to be with someone right now, and it’s probably for always. I won’t go through what I went through with Eduardo again.”
“Let’s resolve to be honest. Let’s resolve to not play any games, except in bed. Cards on the table.”
“I’ll put mine down.” She spreads a hand on the table, as if showing a pair of aces. “To start, I want to make this arrangement exclusive. You and me.” She wags a finger. “But no expectation of love or of laundry.”
I laugh. “It’s been exclusive since the night at the garden bar, little mermaid. There hasn’t been anyone else. And I’ve done my own laundry for a long, long time, thank you very much.”
“Excellent. Let’s keep it that way.”
I take her hand and run my fingers through hers, sliding them together slowly. “Can we enjoy this arrangement more fully tonight? Maybe explore the terms of it at my place?”
“What sort of terms do you have in mind?”
With my other hand, I run a finger down her throat. “I’d like to slide this top off you, kiss my way down your body, and lick your breasts.”
She shivers. “I think I could sign off on that point.”
“And under this arrangement, I’d very much like to peel off this skirt, slide my hand along your legs . . .” I whisper, my hand now drifting to her skirt.
“Oh God,” she whimpers.
“So, a yes to that?”
“Yes.”
“You say you don’t want to be consumed, but I’d love to consume you with my mouth.”
A flush spreads over her skin, and I want to take her out of here, strip her naked, and lick her all over. But I also don’t want to stop. My hand slinks farther under her skirt, my fingers climbing up her legs. I can feel her heat as she spreads her thighs a little wider.
“Would you be amenable to that provision in the deal?”
“I would,” she whispers, then she bites her lip as my fingers reach the apex of her thighs. She’s so fucking wet.
I slide my fingers across her soaked panties, the tablecloth shielding my busy hands. A quick glance around tells me we can pull this off. We’re in the corner, the waiters are busy, and the nearest patrons are a few tables away.
A tremble spreads over her shoulders as I push the fabric to one side, then slip my finger inside her wet knickers. She gasps, parting her thighs a little wider as I trace her slickness. “Does this deal include letting me worship you with my mouth tonight?”
She nods.
“And does it include giving me the chance to fucking adore you with my tongue?”
Another nod.
My fingers slide along her wetness, and the hand that holds mine grips me tighter. As I reach that delicious rise of her clit, her grip on me turns bionic. “And under the terms of this arrangement, I’d want you to get naked under me, so I can help you let go of all this tension from your shitty day and your shitty ex. You can forget it all and be consumed by how I fuck you with my tongue.”
“Christian.” It comes out like a desperate, quiet plea.
I slide a finger inside. She digs her teeth into her lower lip, arching into my hand as she trembles. “We can arrange for you to come all over my face,” I say, rubbing my stubbled jaw against her cheek.
She whimpers as she pushes against my fingers, trying as subtly as she can to ride me to the edge of her orgasm. She clenches around me, a sign she’s nearly there. I inch closer, my mouth near her ear. “Would that work as one of the terms? If I could spend the evening with my face buried between your legs?”
She parts her lips, lets out a quick breath, then nods as she shudders and seems to melt, to turn boneless. A small sound escapes her, but she stays quiet, trembling as she comes on my fingers in the tea salon.
Her eyes close, and when she opens them, she’s woozy and sex-drunk, and I need to make her look that way again. “You’re wicked. And I want another.”
“Greedy girl,” I say approvingly as I lick the sweet taste of her off my fingers. Her eyes widen as she watches me.
I wipe my hand on a napkin and signal for the bill, and once I pay it, my phone rings. I have half a mind to ignore it, but I see Erik’s name flashing. “Let me see what’s up with him.”
I answer it. “Make it good. I’m about to shut the ringer off for the night.”
He sobs. “Jandy left me.”
16
Christian
“Where are you? Are you home?”
“No. I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“I’m at . . . I don’t know. There’s a bloody window planter on the building across the street.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, as Elise watches me with worry etched in her eyes. “Does the street have a name?”
He hiccups. “It’s rue something,” he says, and that’s not useful at all, since nearly every street starts with rue. Tears are thick in his voice. Elise must be able to hear his end of the conversation because she sits forward, seeming cautious and careful with her movements.
“Are you wandering around the streets?”
“Yes. I see a streetlamp. Is that helpful?”
Hell, he could be anywhere. “A street sign would be more helpful. Can you walk to the corner and give me cross streets?”
He hiccups again, and it registers that those aren’t hiccups from coughing. He’s been drinking. “Are you pissed?”
“I’ve only had three shots. But I fully intend on being absolutely plastered by the end of the night. We’re talking uni-style bender.”
I drag a hand through my hair, frustrated that he doesn’t know where he is. “Your tolerance is crap already. Are you near the river? Sacré-Coeur? Notre Dame? The Eiffel Tower? The Louvre?”
“No. I’m near a church. It’s across the street from a café. Hold on.”
I wait, ready to go find him in a heartbeat. “It says Les Deux Magots.”
“Stay there outside Les Deux Magots. I’ll be there in ten minutes. We’re only a mile away.”
“We’re?” He groans, and it’s the saddest variety of sound. “Oh, crap. You’re with your woman.”
I glance at Elise. Is she my woman? I had my hands up her skirt until she came on my fingers. But she doesn’t want to be owned.
She’s no one’s woman. She’s her own woman.
Only, now is clearly not the time to address her status with my brother. Waiters circle, carrying trays of tea, and meanwhile, a mile away, my brother is drowning his sorrows over his wife.
“Yes, I’m with Elise, but I’m coming to see you.”
Elise shoos me off, telling me to g
o.
“I’ll go home,” Erik says. “I don’t want to cock-up your date.”
“You’re not ruining anything.”
He moans. “I can’t go home. I have no home. I’ll get a hotel.”
I take Elise’s hand and lead her out of the salon, chatting with Erik. “You’ll stay with me. Just settle down at Les Deux Magots, and I’ll be there soon.”
“Don’t worry,” Elise whispers. “Go to him.”
“Bring her along,” Erik says, sounding strangely chipper for a moment.
“What? You haven’t even met her yet.”
“I need a woman’s perspective. Bring her along, and that way maybe she can make sense of what’s been going on.”
“Erik,” I say with a sigh.
His voice is sharp and demanding. “Just, please. I mean it.”
I cover the phone as we make our way outside. “He wants you to come. You don’t have to.”
She wraps a hand around my bicep. “I want to. Whatever you need.”
Her smile is soft and gentle, and it’s one of the first times neither one of us is teasing. The gentleness hooks into me and touches deeper than I expected. It isn’t about the spark between us. It’s about a woman who’s been broken before, and yet she still cares for someone else. Someone she doesn’t even know.
And I think I want her to care more about me too.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, we usher Erik out of a touristy, overpriced café and into an English pub around the corner. The floor is covered in sawdust, and names are carved into the wood on the table. Erik picks at a bowl full of peanuts. His eyes are red, but dry.
He raises a pint. “Cheers. Drinks are on me. Let’s get pissed.”
Elise raises her hand to catch a waiter’s attention. “We’ll have two more, please, and another for him.”
Erik smiles at Elise. “She’s a keeper. Always trust a woman who’ll drink a beer with you. Never trust the ones who thumb their noses at pints. Jandy hated beer.”
Elise smiles. “Sometimes you just need a pint.”
“I love her already,” Erik says, smiling like a sad sack at Elise. “And I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but I’m glad to make the acquaintance of the woman who has captivated my little brother.” He stabs his finger against the table, grinning like a sloshed loon. “Did you know he said you were bold and daring the night he never met you? And so scrummy.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t mind in the least that he’s shared what I said. I’ve told her as much myself.
Elise laughs. “He was bold and daring. But let’s talk about you. I wish you were having a better night.” She stretches out her arm and squeezes his hand.
His lip quivers, and he nods. “Me too. But it’s good to meet you. It’s good to see someone who can make someone else happy. I thought I had that.” He hangs his head in his hand, and my heart aches for him.
“Sorry, Erik. Tell us what happened,” I say, after the waitress drops off the round that Elise ordered.
Erik heaves a sigh, shovels his hand through his hair, and says, “She’s been working late, as you know.”
My spine straightens, and red smoke billows out my ears. “I will string her up from her tits.”
Erik shakes his head. “No, she’s not cheating. At least, as far as I know she has been faithful. She didn’t say a damn thing about another man.” He lets out a long, angry sigh. “She’s been putting this together. This horrid plan to leave me. She claims she needs to be independent. Said she needs to be able to do things on her own.”
I scowl. “This from the woman who was like a damsel in distress when you met her.”
My brother huffs. “I know. She fucking needed me so much then, and now she’s going on and on about how she needs to find herself. She said she feels like she has no identity of her own. That it’s all wrapped up in being married, and since her dad was such a wanker, she needs a breather from being attached to a man. But not a breather—a divorce.”
“She’s leaving to go find herself?” I ask, trying to sort out the mess she’s made of my brother’s heart.
“Yes. And to do that, she wants the firm. Says it’s all she knows. She needs it now. That’s why she’s been working late. To try to get it.”
A chill runs through me. “How can she get the firm? You and I have the majority of the shares, and we’re privately held.”
He knows this. He should know this. That’s how everything was set up in the trust. It outlined every detail about the shares of the firm, and he’s the goddamned trustee.
His expression is sheepish. “I gave her a few shares for her birthday, in her name. She’d mentioned she wanted some independence, and I thought that would help.”
“But not too many, right?”
He swallows. “Not too many. But she’s been using her salary to buy up shares, it seems. From some of the other shareholders.”
“Okay,” I say cautiously. “But how could she have enough? Between us, we should still have a controlling interest.”
He winces, and a look of shame crosses his eyes. “Because I also put my shares in both our names.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my body going heavy, like it weighs a thousand tons. He can’t have done that. Please, dear God, make that a joke.
I open my eyes to find him offering me a “please don’t be mad at me” smile, and how can I possibly be mad when the love of his life is leaving him flat on his arse and trying to steal his company? “Say you’re kidding. That you’re just going on about something else.”
He shakes his head.
I try my best to stifle a groan, my frustration. “Erik . . .”
“We were married. She promised to love me forever.”
Elise pats his hand and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Of course you thought that. It’s normal to expect that.”
“I believed we’d be together. Just like Grandfather believed in love, and that’s why he left control of the company to his married grandson,” he says, and of course I know about that stupid bloody stipulation in the trust.
Elise furrows her brow. “What did he do?”
I jump in. “Our grandfather was happily married for more than fifty years. He was one of those true romantics. Very old-fashioned. His wife was by his side the whole time, and that’s what he believed worked for him. That’s what he wanted for the company he left to us. He put his majority shares into a trust, and his will appointed the married grandson the trustee. Basically, through the trust, that grandson has control of those shares—hence, control of the company, which was something we were all fine with. Our mum too.”
“What if neither of you was married?”
“Then the shareholders—a board of directors, really—have control until such a time as one or both find true love,” I explain heavily.
“That’s like a fairy tale.”
I nod. “It’s exactly like one. His marriage was the definition of ‘and they lived happily ever after,’ and he wanted that for us. But it’s never been an issue, since I never wanted to shepherd the company. Erik has been running it anyway, and he’s been with Jandy for a few years now, so it all made sense when Grandfather laid it out. His expectations aligned with our reality. Over the last few months, we’ve been dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on the paperwork governing the estate.”
Erik takes a long drink and bangs his glass down. “And now I’ve fucked that up.”
Elise rubs his shoulder. “No, you didn’t. She fucked it up. She’s not worthy of you, and she doesn’t deserve your company, and we’re going to do everything we can to help you sort this out.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
Damn, she shouldn’t be turning me on at a time like this, but she sure as hell is, with her commanding tone and her deep concern.
“That means that among the other shareholders, she has the most control right now? If there’s no married grandson to serve as a trustee?” Elise asks.
I
nod. “Seems that way.”
“She can make all the decisions?”
Erik nods. “And she wants to sell it.”
I drop my forehead to the table and contemplate banging it a few times. I turn and look at him. “You kept that little nugget till the end, did ya?”
“Sorry, but there’s a silver lining.”
I raise my head. “Please. We need some good news.”
“I talked to the lawyers. Some of her shares come due for renewal in three months, and they’re the type of shares we can buy back as the officers of the company, and then she won’t have majority control. We just need to prevent a sale before then.”
I rub my palms together, shucking off my frustrations. “Okay, let’s solve this, then. How are we going to keep Grandfather’s company in the family?”
Erik snaps his fingers. “Why don’t I go ask the waitress to marry me?”
I laugh morbidly. “You’re not divorced yet.”
He slumps down in the booth. “Oh yeah. There’s that issue.”
We toss around some scenarios for preventing a sale, and I’m doing my best to maintain a cheery vibe when Elise clears her throat.
In her brown eyes, I see a brand-new fierceness. “Yes?”
“Gentlemen, it seems you’re missing the most obvious solution.”
“What is it? Tell me. Tell us,” I say.
“You don’t know what it is?”
Erik shakes his head. I do the same.
“The marriage stipulation,” she adds, making a rolling gesture as if encouraging us to catch up. There’s a wicked grin on her face. A hint of mischief and victory in her eyes. “It only stipulates that a married grandson would control the company. It doesn’t say which one.”
Erik opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. I’m not sure what to say either.
Elise points at me. “You could go propose to the waitress.”
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