Charming Like Us (Like Us Series: Billionaires & Bodyguards Book 7)

by Krista Ritchie

  The bus is quiet.

  We all respect Akara, and I take his words to heart.

  I fucked up royally tonight.

  “Oscar, Quinn.” Akara speaks to us directly. “If you can’t work together, then you both can’t stay.”

  I’ve thought about this moment. I knew it’d come, and I choose my words carefully. “If you fire him,” I tell our boss, “I’m quitting.”

  Farrow chews gum slowly with a look at me like what the fuck are you doing now?

  Donnelly pipes in, “Oscar quits, I quit.”

  Farrow shakes his head and rolls his eyes like we’re dumbasses.

  I hear Banks say something about “the Yale boys” to Thatcher in the back.

  Both of my friends’ reactions are intrinsically them, and I can’t help but grin. Before tonight, I would’ve probably given anything for my little bro to be sacked. Leave security behind and apply to college. Get an experience he missed out on.

  But Quinn’s pain is still so fresh in my mind. I can feel it against my swollen cheek. I can feel it writhing around in me. And I don’t want him to lose anything.

  Quinn turns slightly in his seat, earbud cord hanging around his neck. His expression breaks on me, but I still can’t see the gnarled roots under the oak tree.

  “You’re really putting me in this position?” Akara asks, staring at me like I’m a ghost of a person.

  “He’s my brother,” I say.

  Akara looks between me and Quinn. “You both want your job? You want to stay on SFO? Then you have two month’s pay-cut and mandatory therapy together. Once a week.”

  Quinn barely even looks my way. How is therapy going to work if he can’t meet my eyes?

  I’ll try anything, though.

  We go over a few more security matters. Like scheduling for training temps. And I’m biting my nails watching time slip by.

  Meeting ends, and I bolt out of the van. I’m going to drive another security vehicle, the Black Widow, and I’m halfway to the SUV when my phone rings.

  No, no, no.

  If he’s calling, then that means his meeting is over. His fate has been decided, and I wasn’t there. I’m not there.

  Don’t be Jack.

  Don’t be Jack.

  I dig for my pocket and glance at the screen.

  Caller ID: Highland.

  My stomach sinks. I missed it.

  Why in the ever-loving hell would anyone want to be with me?

  30

  OSCAR OLIVEIRA

  Jack drove back to New York to be with me after his meeting. He’s still in limbo. He said they’re still “evaluating” the situation, but Maximoff and Jane have been putting pressure on the execs to keep Jack on in the same role. Like I thought they would. They really care about Jack.

  My boyfriend was a wreck last night. Not in a typical meltdown fashion. There were no tears. His leg kept jostling while we hung out on the couch. He hardly ate the takeout dessert, which I brought home as an I’m sorry.

  His career is in purgatory, and that’s stressing him out more. If they’d given him a direct final answer, I wonder if he’d be this anxious.

  “Sorry, I’m such a buzzkill right now,” he told me, trying to swallow the cake with a knot in his throat.

  That hurt my heart. “Do you think I expect you to do cartwheels and throw glitter around me?” I asked him seriously. “You had a bad night. We both had a bad night. Let’s wallow together and eat cake.”

  Light touched his eyes.

  I slipped a strong arm around his waist.

  He slouched back, his smile slowly ascending. After a minute or two, he asked, “You want to kiss it out?”

  Yeah, we did a lot more than kiss. It was a freeing cap on an emotional night. And waking up to a new day is like waking with a massive hangover.

  It’s already the afternoon, and mentally, I’m scrolling through the charity golf event with a nauseous cringe.

  Kitsuwon Securities 1 – Triple Shield 1.

  Alpha and Epsilon bodyguards have been boasting all day about our face-in-the-mud failure. How they cleaned up Omega’s mess. It’s a far fall from our high when SFO found the girl squad in Anacapri.

  I’d put myself near the top of Omega, at the risk of being an arrogant ass. Mistakes and I aren’t friends. We’re not even acquaintances. I’m the bodyguard who has the brilliant ploys, who has the correct reads on threats, who sneaks around chaos before chaos catches my ass—and now I’m the bodyguard who cost Omega a win.

  We’re not losers yet, but I didn’t think I’d be the first one to tarnish the firm’s reputation. Almost guiltily, I’m glad I screwed up because of my brother and not because of my relationship with Jack.

  I don’t want anyone believing I’m unable to be a good bodyguard with a boyfriend. If I’m only successful at this job being single…

  Yeah, I’m not going to sit on that tragic thought for long.

  At the moment I’m preoccupied. And I’m on my knees in the loft—sadly, not to blow Jack Highland and see him come.

  I’m unpacking my sister’s suitcase.

  While I fold her jeans into a drawer, she’s on the edge of the bed next to Jack and showing off her music playlist. “You should add Emicida and Ludmilla to your joint playlist with Oscar. He probably just put a ton of pop and axé in there.”

  My baby sis taking shots at my favorite music genres, and she’s been living with me for half-a-second. She just really loves funk.

  Jack grins back at me. “What’s axé?”

  He’s unaware he’s listened to it already on the playlist we made together. We keep adding songs for the two-hour rides between New York and Philly. “Axé sounds a little like reggae and calypso,” I explain. “It has African origins.” I look to Joana. “And I take offense to the attitude towards pop. Everyone loves Lady Gaga.”

  “Hmm.” Joana squints with mock consideration. “Don’t think that’s true.”

  I outstretch a hand towards Jack for back-up.

  He smiles while he wets his lips, his sparkling eyes say he loves me more than Lady Gaga, which is why he tells Jo, “I like Lady Gaga. ‘Stupid Love’ is a cool track.” It’s the only song of hers he won’t skip halfway through.

  When Jo focuses on her phone, Jack mouths to me knowing I can read lips, two peas in a pod. He motions to me and him. Not because we like the same music—we don’t always—but because he’ll join my lonely pea pod.

  What the fuck, I sound like a twelve-year-old dork with a crush.

  My mouth curves upward.

  More and more every single day, I love the foundation of our relationship. Built on encouragement and love and support. Knowing that he’ll be my biggest fan and I’ll be his is a beautiful fucking thing.

  Jack smiles a brighter smile.

  Igniting my lungs.

  If only Oslie stans could see this—maybe they’d get it. #FireJackHighland is still a hashtag they love to spread, but I’m hoping the longer I’m with Jack—the longer we’re seen out together in public—the more they’ll realize this isn’t short-term or a publicity stunt.

  We’re here to stay.

  I have to believe that too. Even when I’m screwing up left and fucking right.

  “You’ll love this one,” Joana says, clicking into a new song. She plays “Levanta e Anda” by Emicida, a Brazilian rapper.

  They bounce their head to the rhythm.

  “You know who else would love this?” Jack says midway through. “Akara.”

  I groan at the mention of the boss I fucked over.

  Jack winces. “Still a sore subject?”

  I push curls out of my lashes. “I still feel like the biggest jackass. Especially since Kitsuwon Securities is footing the therapy bill for me and Quinn.” Akara didn’t have to do that. “I need to send him about fifteen I’m so fucking sorry gift baskets. I won’t even eat the cookies out of them this time.”

  Jack laughs.

  But Joana shuts off the music too suddenly. “How w
as therapy this morning?” Her seriousness causes me to sit up straighter, one of her workout tees halfway folded in my hand. She eyes the welt on my cheekbone.

  I’ve already told Jack the truth: therapy feels important, but it was ineffective today. Quinn stayed silent for the entire sixty-minutes. If a professional can’t help us resolve this, I’m starting to lose hope we’ll ever reach better ground.

  It’s day one. Maybe everything is still too raw from last night’s fight.

  “It went well,” I say, stretching the truth…a lot.

  “Really?” She sounds hopeful.

  I nod and take her inhaler out of a suitcase pocket. “Yeah.”

  “So maybe you don’t need me to move in after all,” Joana says.

  She finally agreed to live with me because she pitied my ass after the fistfight with Quinn. And to be perfectly clear, I purposefully made myself look pitiful. Best strategy I could think of.

  And it worked.

  I have no guilt over the tactic. Her next plan was to couch-surf on random sofas, and I’d much rather her be safe here. Even at the cost of being down the hall from Beckett.

  Jack rehashed my sister’s run-in with Beckett Cobalt at the golf course, and I considered penning Beckett a letter entitled:

  Flirting Etiquette 101:

  Stop Flirting with Joana Oliveira

  He keeps seeking her out when she wants to be a hundred-feet away from him, so I have a big issue. But I know my sister can hold her own too.

  “I need you here, Jo.” I give her a look. “And you’re already unpacked.”

  “Halfway, but you’re doing a great job.” She adds, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Good.

  I’m about to return to her suitcase.

  I stop and assess them on the bed and me on the floor. “You’re over there sharing music with my boyfriend while I’m folding your tops. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  “You should be hanging up the tops, not folding them,” Jo quips.

  I clap loudly.

  She applauds herself too. “Thanks for helping me with my things, really.” Her lips rise. “I like that I get to spend more time with Jack.” She tells him, “Oscar never brought home his college boyfriend, so I never got to grill him.”

  Jack looks shocked, his hand runs through his dark hair and stops on his head for a long, long beat.

  Shit.

  My chest tightens at his reaction and at the mention of an ex. I glance at Joana. “Like you’re grilling Jack right now? You’re closer to calling him your BFF.”

  “I already knew Jack before you two started dating. It’s different. I never met Darrien.”

  “Darrien?” Jack repeats.

  Look at that, she gave him the name of my ex. “Yeah.” I imprison a breath, our eyes locked. Wondering what he’s thinking.

  His knee bounces. “Why didn’t you bring him home? Were you scared your parents wouldn’t like—?”

  “No.” I shake my head stiffly. “I just didn’t come home a lot, so I didn’t bring him to Philly when I did.”

  “Oscar was married to Yale,” Joana explains. “She was the other woman stealing my brother from the family.”

  Jack shifts his gaze to my sister. “College will do that.” He slips me a furtive smile like, I understand.

  I can’t regret Yale, not for a single second. The experience opened my world and changed my life forever. I am who I am because I left home and discovered myself without any familial pressures attached. It was a freeing time of my life.

  It’s also a personal, introspective take on the situation. If I shared this with my brother and sister, they’d be upset thinking I valued being alone over being with them.

  To me, that’s not it.

  I didn’t love college because I never saw them, but being on my own did help me figure out what I wanted for myself.

  Jack glances anxiously at his phone, his fingers racing back through his hair. He’s still waiting for the execs to email an actual verdict.

  I stand up.

  “So if I’m taking the bed,” Joana says, hand on the gray comforter, “and your brother lives with you too…?” She eyes Jack. “Then, how are you both going to…?” She glances between us.

  Good fucking God. My nineteen-year-old sister is asking where me and Jack are going to fuck.

  Highland has his knuckles to his mouth, his smile rising. I love that not much fazes him.

  “Ah, ah, ha.” I wave a finger at Jo. “That’s off-limits.”

  Boundaries, I have them when it comes to my nosy family and who I date.

  She throws up her hands. “It’s an honest question, Oscar. There is no door! We’re in a fucking studio.”

  Jack tips his head like, she has a point. He stands off the bed. “I’m a filmmaker,” he tells Jo. “I know how to get creative.”

  My muscles contract. He might’ve given my sister way too much info, but fuck is he hot.

  Joana nods, impressed. “I respect that.”

  He slings a messenger bag across his chest. “I should head out. I’m supposed to be teaching Jesse a new editing software.” They have enough footage to begin piecing together some of the pilot, and Jesse is only going to be in Philly on the weekends soon. Jack said his brother’s senior year is about to start. Which also means Highland and I won’t have to “get creative” for that long.

  I come up to my boyfriend before he goes, and then a knock sounds on the door.

  “Oscar!”

  “Joana!”

  “Mom and Dad are here?” Jo asks me at the sound of their voices.

  “Yeah.” They just showed up unannounced. Also, not shocked. I’m sure they just want to help Joana get settled in. “Can you get the door, Jo?”

  “You bet.”

  While my sister descends the loft’s stairs to answer the door, Jack stops cold a foot from me. “Am I about to meet your parents?”

  “Unless I toss you out the window, but we’re in a high-rise, so…”

  Stress lines his face. “Fuck.”

  I catch his hand in mine. “Hey, you’re a people-person, Highland. You’ve got this.”

  “I want your parents to like me, Os.” He rubs his forehead. “After the execs told me I’m a ‘liability’ to the docuseries last night—I feel more like crawling into a hole and crying into a baby blanket than putting on a happy face.”

  “Why cry in a baby blanket when you have me?”

  His laughter dies too fast. He lets go of my hand just to place his palms on either side of his waist. Like he’s on a cool-down after a marathon.

  His confidence is on a hiatus, and I’m about to bring it back. “You are legitimately the most endearing motherfucker on a first meeting. You could make polar icecaps melt.”

  He cracks a dim smile.

  “You could make all the stars in the sky fall for the sun.”

  Jack looks deeper into me. He takes a huge breath and hangs his arms over my shoulders like a casual slow-dance. “Tell me a secret that you’ve never told anyone else.”

  We have a short window of time. Joana is at the door, but I take advantage of every single second. Holding his waist, I lean in and whisper, “Estou apaixonado por voçê.” I translate, “I’m in love with you.”

  His smile spreads across his face. Eyes full of vivid emotion.

  I feel it in my chest.

  “Oscar Felipe Oliveira,” my mom calls from the kitchen. “Why are your cupboards full of junk food?” She curses in Portuguese. “How do you expect your sister to eat?”

  I focus more on Jack.

  He’s radiating, his smile unable to wane. He clasps my hand, and he’s the one leading us as we descend the stairs to the bottom floor.

  How do I expect Jo to eat? I answer my mom, “With the mountain of arroz e feijão you brought over, that’s how.” She has containers upon containers of homecooked food stacked on the counter.

  A perk to inviting Joana to live with me.

  “And than
k God I did,” my mom says, finding space in the fridge. Her curly hair is styled in frizz-less ringlets. She carries herself like a famous soap star, and when she spins on me, she sighs at the welt on my cheek and goes on about how Quinn and I should be banded together as brothers.

  Get that.

  Want that.

  Do not have that with the baby bro right now.

  They see our brotherly relationship as a work-in-progress with highs and lows.

  I kiss my mom’s cheeks and introduce Jack. “This is my boyfriend.”

  She hugs Jack before he can even say, hi. “I remember seeing you at some family events.” She gives him a tighter squeeze, and she means the Hale, Meadows, and Cobalt families. She backs up. “You’re usually carrying a camera around.” Her hand touches her heart. “You have such a beautiful smile.”

  Jack is smiling that hundred-watt smile. For sure, I’m taking partial credit for summoning it. “You’re the gorgeous one, Mrs. Oliveira,” he says warmly. “Casting directors would hire you for beauty shots on the spot, and I’d probably be put on a waitlist.”

  Yeah, right. I almost laugh.

  My mom looks beyond flattered by Highland, as I knew she’d be. “Call me Sônia. Oscar’s father is Rodrigo.”

  Right now, my dad is more preoccupied with Jo and boxing. He holds up his palms and calls out combinations. She punches lighter than she would if he wore pads.

  “Come on, faster,” he coaches.

  She smiles, then fakes left but misses the uppercut he requests.

  “Jo,” he frowns. “Listen.” He taps her temple.

  “I did,” she snaps.

  Our mom sends Jo a disapproving look for backtalking.

  I cut into that fast. “Dad, this is Jack, my boyfriend. He has to head out soon, but I wanted you to meet him before he leaves.”

  Jack steps forward and shakes his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  My dad scowls so well, he could scare the hair off a fucking grizzly bear.

  I rake a hand across my unshaven jaw.

  Jack tries to hold eye-contact, but Rodrigo is shaking his hand for two beats longer than normal.

  I’m thirty-two. My dad shouldn’t be treating meeting a boyfriend like a job interview into the family.