Nicholas: A Corbett Brothers BWWM Billionaire Romance: The Corbett Billionaire Brothers

by Imani King

  "I trust you're right." George is a great lawyer. The best. Always has my back in everything I do. For all my frustration, I never wanted to nail Stephanie to the wall, like some ex-husbands. It wasn’t all bad, our courtship, or even our marriage, even if it wasn’t exactly based on what you might refer to as “the truth.” At least on her part. She was there for me when I was building my first business. Even if she didn't contribute financially or anything like that, she was supportive. She looked at me like I could do anything and that kept me going. I loved her. I'd say some small part of me still does, though it's an old and dusty part. The girl I loved back in the day just doesn't exist anymore, so it’s like loving a memory.

  Again, to be honest, five grand is almost nothing to me right now. Strange to say it when the Corbett family originally never was wealthy, or rich or anything like that. We were just your average ranchers before we struck oil. Now all my brothers are doing very well, and my parents’ land has become a lot more valuable.

  What I did with my portion of the cash was to start this company, and Stephanie was there from the beginning. She wasn't from an especially rich family, but they did fairly well for themselves in New York City. When I met her, I was blown away by her sophistication, her Manhattan style and the fact she was interested in me, just a cowboy for all intents and purposes. And honestly, I thought I would have changed her somehow from that life. And now that I’ve begun a venture capitalist business, income is going to skyrocket, and she won't see a piece of that. But I'd never be able to have gotten here without her, and she deserves something for that. She might be small-minded and petty when it comes down to it, but a lot of people from my town would have done the exact same thing as she did. Even if it wasn’t good enough for us to stay together, we both did our best during a lot of our marriage and I won't relegate anyone to the trash heap.

  But all that said, I would be happy if I never see her exfoliated little face again.

  The leather head of the gear shift in my hand grounds me. I can't deal with an automatic transmission, especially in the hills. When I drive out to Connecticut I need to feel those gears shifting, feel the power underneath me. It reminds me of driving the tractor as a kid. Most people wouldn't peg me for a poor farmboy now, but the reality is that I worked on that ranch sunup ’til sundown before I traded it in for business suits and private jets.

  I take the next exit. I should be back at the country house soon. Knocking about by myself. Again.

  "Just the way I like it," I say aloud in a brave voice, knowing it's not true, but I need to believe it at this moment. I wonder how I'll feel when she signs the papers. I know there will be some measure of relief, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's more. Pain? Jubilation? Some measure of both? Who knows.

  3

  Adisa

  "Dad, what are you doing?" I try not to let the irritation enter my voice as I knock on his door. It's only 5pm but I’m pretty sure his bedroom lights are out since I don’t see anything under the door. He shouldn’t even be home yet from his job, which is why I am worried.

  "Just having a little nap," comes his voice. "Can't a man have a nap in his own house?"

  "Sure dad, sorry," I mutter, turning away from the door. I’m just not sure what to do. He’s always been a great dad, but I never had to baby him or anything like that. My mom knew how to handle him, but that’s not a role I can easily take over. "We'll see you in forty-five minutes for dinner," I say, resigned.

  I shake my head as I shut the door. He's retreating from the world, is what he's doing. When the kids used to come home, they'd play for a bit and then he'd walk in the door from work, big smile on his face as they ran to him. Now I doubt he even went into work today. Or yesterday. Or any day this week for that matter.

  As I go downstairs I wonder if there is anything I can do. I do think that he needs help. Maybe there's some grief counseling at the church. I'll look into it after I put together a meal. Before I go to my waitressing job. Arg.

  "Where's daddy?" asks Chikae. "Why didn't he come to give us a kiss?"

  "He'll be down soon," I demur. "He's just tired today."

  "He tired every day," says Darius. "Hush now, baby." Still I can't argue. The boy's right. The only thing to do is to distract them. "What do you guys want for dinner tonight? Mac and cheese and salad?”

  "Mac and cheese! Mac and cheese!" chants Darius. "No sa-lad!" I laugh. I can always hide some veggies in the pasta. "Fair enough. I'll make a quick casserole." Chikae comes up and hugs me around the legs, her big brown eyes looking up at me.

  "Thanks for taking care of us, Dani," she says, her voice muffled as she squeezes, face buried in my skirt.

  "Of course, Chicky," I say. "I got you!"

  I'm fooling myself if I think that the kids don't notice and deeply grieve what's going on with our family. But there really aren't any other options right now. Dad has completely checked out, and it doesn't seem like he's going to be checking back in anytime soon. Sure I feel for him, but there are things to be done. Still, these are his kids, not mine, and there's only so much that one person can accomplish in a day. And despite their sweetness, at times, I’ve never felt more alone.

  I feel like a single mom when I'm really only a sister.

  I decide to sauté some greens to go with the mac and cheese casserole. It's the least I can do to try to get some vegetables into everyone. Hopefully dad will come down for dinner. Maybe I should send Darius to go up and jump on his bed for a little while. Bounce him right downstairs. Where we need him.

  * * *

  Chikae and Darius, homework finally finished, are brushing their teeth noisily in the bathroom. My dad never came down for dinner, despite his promises, so I end up bringing him up some casserole on a plastic tray. The flowery pattern on the surface seems almost to mock the somber atmosphere in the room as I sit on the bed.

  "Daddy, are you sick?" I ask. At least if he is sick, then there's hope. Unless of course it's really bad. Like with mom.

  "No baby," he says. He's staring off into space.

  "I brought you some supper," I say. "You need to eat." I carefully lay out a napkin and a fork. I can't bear to lose my father too, after everything that has happened, and the thing is, that I am losing him. Even if he's still sitting right here, the jovial man I knew as my father is somewhere else. "Come on daddy, mom wouldn't want to see you like this, so unhappy. Just have a few bites, and then I'll go."

  He struggles to sit up. "I know you're right," he says through hands rubbing his face. "I know it. But I miss your mother so much. How do you expect me to go on?" A tear runs down the side of his face, and I feel fear striking my heart. I have never seen my dad cry. But maybe he needs to.

  For that matter, maybe I need to. I lost her as well. My mom meant the world to me. But that's why I have to be so strong now, to finish her work. I'll cry later, when the kids are in bed, stories are read, and my dad has had a few bites of my famous casserole. OK, so I just made it up as I went along, but calling it my famous casserole just makes it sound, and me feel, that much better.

  He half-heartedly pokes at the plate, but he does end up having the promised few bites. And then a few bites more. "It's good," he says, looking up at me for a moment. "Thanks, Adisa."

  "Of course daddy," I force myself to smile, and it reminds me of the smiles I see on Nicholas' face every now and then. Maybe that's why I am so attuned to that sadness he seems to have every now and then, because it echoes my own. I used to play a little bit of guitar, and when I was in high school music class, and one thing I noticed was that when you would play a note really loudly, some of the other guitars would ring along. I thought it was so beautiful. My teacher said it was called 'sympathetic vibration.' Sometimes I wonder if that doesn't happen between people too. When someone feels something really strongly, and that emotion exists in someone else, then their hearts vibrate sympathetically.

  Or their souls.

  I dunno, I haven't quite figured out how I feel on that
subject. But suffice it to say, that when Nicholas smiles like he does sometimes, and I can see that cloud of sadness behind his blue eyes lift, I know that there's something between us. He probably doesn't even know I exist, exactly - I am just a cog in the wheel of his company - but I know that we have felt the same emotion. And right now, that's enough. If it weren’t for his wife, that is.

  4

  Nicholas

  The memory of last Thanksgiving is in the back of my mind.

  It'd been some time since I saw my family, but for the first time in my life I hadn't been looking forward to it. Having to explain why my marriage failed is not what I consider a really happening party. Luckily most of the time, we don't exactly go in for big emotional scenes. My parents are goofy and fun people, at least a lot of the time, so I figured if we could keep it on that level I'd be ok.

  But still, when it finally came down to it I could barely do it. Go to Texas, that is. Luckily aside from my parents, only my brother Rowan was there, and he’s pretty easy to get along with.

  Now my mind drifts, for some reason, and I am surprised to find that I'm thinking again of Adisa with an A. I wonder what she did for Thanksgiving this year, for Christmas? I bet she has a really close family. I picture her smiling and laughing, her dad (as I imagine him at least) carving a turkey, maybe all of them holding hands as they say grace, who knows. But what I do know is that her rich dark eyes and mocha skin would be glowing in the soft light as she looks on the scene. Her wild curls. Suddenly I too am in the scene I've concocted, sitting beside her, holding her hand. Maybe pulling her close for a kiss after we clink glasses in a toast to the family. Now that would be a nice holiday.

  Or maybe she might be coming with me to visit my family, down in Texas, us driving in a rental car across the arid hills, finally getting to the ranch, holding hands as we walk in, greeting my parents as the smells of the holiday cooking tantalizes our noses. My parents greeting us both with a warm hug as they hand us each a tumbler of bourbon with a few ice cubes clinking inside. I wonder if Adisa likes bourbon?

  Oh God, Nicholas, get it together. What are you doing? You hardly even know this girl, and you're already thinking of her meeting your family?

  It's ridiculous.

  I force myself to think of something else. Anything. But all that comes to mind are all the future holidays stretching along like a big expanse of emptiness. It won't be possible to always hide away at work, and avoid thinking of my failed marriage. Instead I'll have to face the holidays all alone each year in that empty house, or go back to Texas and see which of my brothers shows up as well. I love my family, but there’s just one word to describe that: dreary.

  5

  Adisa

  I can barely keep my eyes open as the alarm screeches and sears into my brain. I would hit snooze, but it’s futile, since I can hear the thump of Darius and Chikae's feet as they run into the room. They'll be on my bed in 3... 2...BOOM!

  There they are.

  "I had a dream about mommy," Darius says as he snuggles his face into my arm. I can feel his hot breath on my skin. "She said she loved me, but she didn't seem exactly like herself. And then she turned into a cloud.“

  "That's OK, baby," I say. The thought of dream mom telling him that makes me a little irrationally jealous but I push the feeling away. "She's always looking down at you, and she loves you more than anything. You too, Chikae," I say, squeezing her. “Maybe that’s why she was a cloud.”

  "Can we go shopping soon?" She says. I look down at her big brown eyes fringed with soft lashes. How can I say no to that? "And get stuff to decorate for the birthday party?"

  "You bet," I say, mentally making calculations as to how I will possibly manage everything. Sadly, including the money for the decorations. Should I really promise something that I'm not sure I can deliver? Jesus will provide, I tell myself grimly. I can stretch the grocery budget or something. Maybe I can wheel and deal. Maybe I can find some cheap used banners off of Craiglist or something. Or make something homemade out of post-it notes from the office.

  "Yay!" The kids are shouting, dancing in the room.

  "Quiet, now," I caution. "You'll wake up daddy."

  They immediately start dancing silently, mimicking and mocking and sometimes earnestly doing silly moves. Where do they pick up that stuff, I wonder, as I fall out laughing, smothering the peals of laughter in my pillow. I gotta admit it - these kids are the light of my life.

  Well - there is another light in my life, but that's just a crush. Someone who makes me feel butterflies: Nicholas.

  Not that it's going anywhere.

  “Don’t forget we are late at school tonight,”says Darius. School play rehearsal.”

  “I’mma be a tree!” shouts Chikae and her brother shushes her as I wince.

  Breakfast is smooth for once; the kids eat their meal without complaint, and soon I am off to work and they're safely off to school on the bus. Dad made a brief appearance this morning, grabbed some coffee and grunted, dark circles under his eyes. I wonder if he'll make it in to his job today. Who knows how long they'll be lenient with him? If he still has a job?

  But one step at a time. I remember my mother saying the same thing to him. "One step at a time baby, that's all it takes. One step at a time." Are we going to make it, mama? I silently ask her, briefly looking up at the pale blue-gray sky, the bare branches stark and spidery against the pale sun.

  A birthday party. Yes, the kids are right. We need to keep up the traditions and make sure we are looking forward. Maybe green balloons? The color of life.

  And punch. I could really go for some spiked punch. An adult punch and a kid’s punch. Sounds good to me.

  "Adisa!" Rain says as I walk in. "You all right?"

  "All the better for seeing you," I smile.

  "And him," she mouths, and discreetly sticks her thumb out toward my boss, as Nicholas walks in. My stomach gets the familiar butterflies. Then she winks. I hope to god he doesn't see. "Good morning, Mr. Corbett," she says in a schoolmarm voice.

  "Nicholas is fine, Rain," he says as a grin dances onto his face for a moment before being whisked away. "Good morning Rain, good morning Adisa!"

  I feel my cheeks grow warm as his deep eyes fall on me. "Good morning," I say. I hope, smoothly.

  "Nicholas," he prompts.

  "Nicholas," I say softly, the word playing with my tongue a little. The sound is warm, like chocolate. His eyes meet mine for a second and I see something else in them, before he smiles and slips into his office, shutting the door.

  "What was that?" Rain stage-whispers. "Something happened there!"

  "Nothing happened," I hiss back. Now my cheeks are on fire.

  "Oh something happened," she says. "You could see that from space!" Her eyes are glowing.

  "Just leave it alone," I plead. But she's right. I just can't talk about it right now. There was something there. Like a bolt of lightning to the heart. Or something. How does one describe a thing like that? His face swims in my consciousness, his beautiful eyes, his lips. Dammit. Keep your mind on your work, Adisa. One day at a time.

  6

  Nicholas

  I can't stop pacing around the room. My heart is beating a mile a minute, my hands are sweaty. My knees are weak. My name in her voice, in her mouth. I had no idea that it would, or could, have that kind of affect on me. Adisa with an A, what are you doing to me? Those full soft lips framing each vowel, each consonant of my name, so lovingly. I wonder what it would be like to lift her up on this desk and press our bodies together, my hand stroking the small of her back before wrapping my arms around her and pulling her to me, reaching up to cup her round breast in my hand.

  Get it together, Nicholas.

  Nicholas... She said my name.

  I feel like jumping up and down. She said my name!

  The rest of the day flies by as I attempt to wrap up whatever else needs to be done, but I can't really concentrate. Good thing I am really not too needed around here, because
the way my mind is focused on a woman, I can't really be counted on. But the early afternoon darkness is falling, and I hadn't given the evening a single thought - beyond the fantasy of Adisa. But I could use some quiet time, a quick drink, maybe a light meal.

  I poke my head out the door. "Rain? Adisa?"

  They stop packing their things. "Do you need us to stay late this evening?" Rain asks, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

  "No, nothing like that," I smile. "I was just wondering if you happen to know if there's anywhere good to get a bite and quick drink around here in the city?"

  "Oh!" says Adisa. Her mouth perfectly round. "Um..."

  "Funny you should ask," Rain says smartly, picking up the conversational slack. "Adisa was just telling me that she was planning on grabbing something this evening."

  "Is that so?" I run my fingers through my hair to mask the fact that my hands have started trembling a little.

  "Yes, sir," says Adisa. Oh my Lord, she is sexy.

  "Nicholas," I correct her. Thinking of the way she said my name in the afternoon, I can't wait to hear it again. But she looks at me, and the corners of her soft mouth turn up invitingly, coyly, like she's too shy to say it again.

  "I have to run," says Rain, quickly stuffing some items from her desk into a bag. "But you two can sort out this whole thing, I'm sure." She's gone before we can even say goodbye. And then, suddenly, Adisa with an A, and I am alone. Don't blow this, Nicholas, I think.

  "So, you're feeling like grabbing a bite as well?" I manage to say.

  "Yeah, my little brother and sister are staying late at school tonight, so I thought I would grab something before I go pick them up."