Twenty-nine

ANDREW

When Lilah grows too still against me, I look down to find her head sagging against my chest and her eyes drooping lower every second.

Chuckling, I kiss her jaw.

“Don’t fall asleep on me. We have a party to get back to.”

Groggily, Lilah turns her head to look at me. Her seductive eyes are clouded with pleasure and unmistakable drowsiness when she groans, “You don’t play fair.”

I laugh again, pulling her closer to me to savor her natural warmth.

There’s no way I’m going to admit that I’m addicted to making her come. She has enough leverage as it is. I’m just waiting for the day I wake up wrapped tightly around her finger.

It can’t be too far off. The thought doesn’t even scare me. What does scare me is that I’m starting to look forward to it.

“How do you know the people hosting this party again?” Lilah asks, disturbing the quiet of the room.

After kissing the top of her head, I pull back and answer her question.

“Ben and Rachel are old friends of the family. Their father, Silvio, was one of my dad’s business partners. My father wasn’t a trusting man, but he trusted Silvio with his life. I remember him always being around when I was younger, so I naturally became friends with his children. We’re around the same age. They’re good people,” I say.

“It’s awesome that you all still stay in touch,” Lilah says quietly.

Shifting her across my lap, I bring her feet to rest on the bed beside us. But I don’t move her off me. My selfishness won’t allow it. I want her as near as possible. For as long as possible.

“Tell me about your parents,” she requests softly, probably anticipating for me to close her out like I did earlier when she brought up my brother.

Surprisingly enough, the urge I have to smash a wall when my brother is mentioned is absent when I think about my parents. My mother, specifically. The feelings I have about my father are complicated but how much of a grudge can you hold against a dead guy?

“My mother would have loved you,” I share, staying within my comfort zone. “She was a rebel at heart, just like me. And an artist. She was an aristocrat by blood and raised to follow the rules, but she blazed her own path. She exposed me to all types of art at a very young age and I’ve been hooked ever since. It’s my lifeline and I never would have discovered it without her.”

Turning to me, Lilah studies my face intently. “Sounds like one hell of a woman.”

Nodding, I agree with her assessment. “She was.”

Naturally, her interest is piqued and she wants to know about the other person responsible for my existence.

“And your dad?”

I stop toying with her anklet and focus on the carpet beneath us as her question echoes in my head.

My dad.

Where the hell do I even start?

Picking up on my prolonged silence, Lilah backtracks.

“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me about him. I was just curious.”

“No, it’s fine,” I speak, and my voice is a lot gruffer than I expected. I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Lilah reaches up to touch my face. Her soft palm cups the side of my face as she patiently waits for me to continue speaking.

“My dad was a man about his business,” I start off before pausing to rearrange my next string of words. “He built his empire from the ground up and naturally wanted his sons to follow the path he had so diligently paved. For my brother, that wasn’t a problem. He’s a natural when it comes to every aspect of running of a business. He shadowed my dad every chance he got. But I never took an interest in that stuff.”

Lilah’s focus hasn’t wavered once and I can tell she wants me to get it all out before she speaks up.

With a deep sigh, I go on. “My father took my disinterest in the family business as a slap in the face. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t share the same values as him. He despised my art and called it a distraction.”

I stop and shake my head at the memory of some of the things he had shouted at me on various occasions.

“He said he would never support something lazy, unmotivated people chose to dabble in. So, instead he focused all his attention on pitting me and my brother against one another. Nothing I did could compare to what my brother accomplished. I’ll never forget Father’s Day when I was twelve years old…”

Lilah speaks up when my words trail off.

“What happened?” She asks carefully.

“I made him a painting,” I scoff, recalling the memory all too vividly. “Worked on it for about a month in my mother’s studio until it was finally time to give it to him. When I gave it to him he just sneered and tossed it in a corner of his office. He and my brother were headed out to the golf course and he told me that the best gift I could give him would to be more like my brother.”

Lilah’s gasp feels me with dread. The last thing I want is her pity. That’s not why I told her. Actually, I don’t know why I’m telling her. The words just won’t stop flowing once I start.

“That must have been tough,” she says finally.

“Yeah, something like that,” I tell her, resurrecting my invisible wall. I don’t do vulnerable and this woman has me wide open right now.

But she doesn’t push. She just stares at me with those eyes that make me want things that I’ve never wanted before. Things that I only want with her.

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth. “And thanking you for bringing me here. It means the world to me.”

Her words hit me in the chest, igniting warmth in the previously hollowed-out space. I’ve never felt anything like this before and it’s confusing as hell.

How did sneaking away for a good time turn into a heart to heart with the woman who was just supposed to be another box I checked off my bucket list? A bucket list that she blew apart. Now the only list I have is ways I want to make her come.

“I guess we better get back,” Lilah sighs, sensing that our conversation is over.

I’m thankful for her natural ability to read my body language so well. When she stands in front of me, I smile up at her mischievously because I know what’s coming.

“Can I have my panties back now?” she asks cheekily, fisting her hands at her hips.

Her dress shifts dangerously, almost giving me a flash of the part of her I adore the most.

She feigns annoyance when I tell her that they’re better off in my pocket and I grab her hand pulling her back out into the hall.

Lilah’s threatening to get me back somehow when someone clears their throat up ahead.

My walk down memory must have conjured him up, because right there in the flesh is my brother.

“Motherfucker,” I bite out.

Instantly, I stop walking to watch his haughty approach. There’s already an annoying sneer on his face that I want to smack off.

Beside me, I feel the second Lilah tenses in response to the shift in my demeanor.

“Andrew,” my brother greets us coolly as he closes in. “Long time no see.”