The bartender wraps his tattooed covered hand around the glass and promptly extends it my direction. “Vodka and cranberry with a slice of lime.”
I offer him a smile of gratitude for not forgetting the fruit wedge.
Though, I guess I should be secretly thankful the other bartender did. Not sure my closet pal would’ve appreciated the minor tingle that would’ve come with having his dick bathed in something so acidic.
A small shiver slivers down my spine.
Damn, if we weren’t at my brother’s engagement party, I would’ve bailed and led him back to my hotel suite. Maybe I’ll make a point to find him again after Paxton’s conducted his next checkup. Heaven knows, it’d be nice to have a temporary bedmate. I haven’t had anything between my legs since I landed in the undeniable midst of my aftermath. My parents live on opposite ends of the same city because of me. My brother lets his insecurities eat him alive because of me. My entire family fights and fusses because of me. Because of my past. Because my mistake has a habit of blinding them to what truly matters in life.
Living.
I force my smile wider, anxious to replace the solemn thoughts with ones more satisfying. “Love the tattoos.”
His smirk makes an appearance. “Thanks. Friend of mine owns a shop.”
“Yeah? Close by?”
“Couple blocks.” He examines the skin I’m visibly displaying in my black cocktail dress. “Why? You thinkin’ about gettin’ your first?”
My pout is condescending. “Cute that you think it would be my first.”
He lightly laughs. “Doesn’t look like you have any to me, baby girl.”
Relieved he played into the conversation as predicted; I coo, “Wanna come up to my room and find them?”
“With my tongue?”
Jackpot.
I appreciate a man who doesn’t do the song and dance longer than necessary, which truthfully, for me; it isn’t very long at all. Once I’m interested, it’s a simple are we or aren’t we hooking up. And even when it’s the latter there’s no hurt feelings my direction. One man’s pass easily becomes another man’s “best sex of my life”.
Before my mouth can twitch to answer, a dark, anger ridden voice grumbles, “Another parola to my little sister and they’ll be scraping those tattoos off the fucking pavement.”
The bartender surrenders his hands, shoots me an apologetic glance, and strolls towards lingering customers at the opposite end.
My head dramatically falls backwards as I turn to face Captain Cock Block who’s known to jump tall buildings in a single bound to prevent me from having male attention.
Add this to the long list of reasons I have no intention of making this city my permanent residence. If I moved here for longer than my job is requiring, I’d never get my pussy touched again. I’d wither and die the crazy old lady in the upstairs apartment that has exotic pets because she hates cats. Well. House cats. Tigers. Lions. Leopards. All the big cats I adore. They’re all warm and cuddly when they’re babies. I’d know. I’ve been to enough animal rescue habitats around the world to have pretty solid knowledge on the subject.
I glower at the man feared by many.
Hard to blame them. He’s tall, bald, and built like the NFL has been grooming him since he came screaming out of the womb. Well, knowing him, grunting. Since he came grunting out of the womb.
On a heavy sigh, I complain, “Must you run off any potential fuck I cross paths with?”
“Don’t say fuck.”
“Please, don’t say fuck, is the correct phrasing. Where are your maniere, Paxton? Manners maketh man.”
His vision narrowing causes me to snicker.
Pushing his buttons is definitely something I have missed.
“You’re a pain in the ass, lo sai?”
“What else are little sisters for?”
He grunts his irritation and grabs my glass free hand. “Come on. I wanna introduce you to my bros.”
Ah. The infamous brotherhood he found back in college. While their faces may be a mystery to me, their reputations and roles aren’t. Paxton and I may not be as close as he would like, but it doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention when he gushes about them. When he brags about them. When he unconsciously rubs their consanguinity in my face. He successfully replaced me while I’ve been cursed to live a life where most people stay at an arm’s length from me.
Partially my own fault.
Partially theirs.
Partially the monster who forced me to live an unwanted life of solitude even in the public’s eye.
People are less likely to be interested in stalking you if they can’t make a real connection.
The two of us arrive at a small gathering of men and women. Paxton’s spine immediately lengthens and his shoulders square off, pride piercing through his expression.
He’s like a proud papa preparing to present the sons he’s dedicated his whole life to raising.
It’s funny.
It’s cute.
It’s disheartening…
“Julez, these are my bros. Bros, this is my younger sister, Julez.”
“Julia.”
“Julez,” he stresses the name he prefers be used.
My hand gives a slight, polite wave as my eyes wander around the circle, drinking in their faces. The moment it lands on a familiar one I press my red, painted lips tightly together.
His eyes widen in pure fear.
Can’t say I blame him.
Pax is overly protective when it comes to men in my general vicinity, never mind the ones who manage to make it into my bed. Add in the fact, he broke the “bro code” of never letting your best friend’s little sister slob on your knob and well, he might as well start looking for which cemetery he wants to be buried in.
The leaner man to my left quickly questions, “You have a sister?”
From his strikingly young features, my mind instantly realizes which of the bros he is. “You must be Nate.”
He looks taken back by the obviously correct guess.
Paxton was not exaggerating when he said I would never believe he was the oldest of the group. Nate’s handsome, but the sliver of innocence to his appearance is not attractive to me.
“That makes you Ainsley,” I casually point to the adorable, petite, young, bright brown skinned woman curled around his arm.
Regardless of her choice to wear a slightly more conservative cocktail dress, it’s obvious she can’t be more than nineteen or twenty.
I have nothing against age gaps. I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing an older man more than once…When it comes to love I don’t believe it gives a shit about age or race or height. Love just does what it does.
“Nice to you meet you!” Ainsley extends her hand towards me. “None of us knew Pax had a sister!”
The man on the opposite side of the circle scrunches his face in disagreement. “Wouldn’t say none of us.”
My attention moves to the man whose features are screaming he’s the tall, dark, and forever brooding type. Almost like Batman in his Bruce Wayne form. “You must be Holden.”
He slowly nods, eye contact expressing all the sympathy his mouth isn’t allowed to speak.
Another reason I avoid anyone with knowledge of my past. Once they hear it or know it, that’s all they tend to see. A defenseless statistic.
A defenseless woman too weak to save herself.
A defenseless little girl who still needs her big brother to run in the room and save her.
I swallow my displeasure and force my smile to stay plastered on my face.
“This is my wife, Meena,” he introduces.
I shake hands with him followed immediately by her.
Gorgeous woman. A bit curvier than Ainsley in the chest and hips but still in amazing shape. Her coloring is a beautiful mixture of two races though it’s hard from first glance to guess which two. Most people don’t know from just looking at me that I’m half black and half Italian, so I never feel guilty about not being able to speculate the roots of someone else from a thirty second stare.
My gaze finally drifts over to the tall, blonde, and baby blue eyed celestial creation that has to be Wyatt, though he introduced himself to me as Kutner. Earlier, with me peering up at him from my knees he looked deliciously edible, but up close, in the middle of a crowded event where I can appreciate the way his smooth, tan complexion is cut and his cheeks possess a hint of a dimple, he looks even more irresistible.
Men like him are used to toying with women.
Having them when they want.
How they want.
And leaving them just as easily.
They’re not used to being left, which makes my disappearing act all the more secretly satisfying.
“Hm,” I hum to myself, tilting my head. “Paxton didn’t mention any other bros. Who are you?”
The question causes him to choke on the piece of shrimp he was scarfing down.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Ainsley’s voice squeaks while Holden hits him hard on the back.
Paxton chortles yet Ryann, his fiancée, fusses, “The EMS having to be called during our engagement party would not be a good way to thank Bart for throwing this thing.”
My big brother slides his arm around her waist and nudges her closer to him.
I adore Ryann. She’s on the thinner side, but isn’t obsessed with her weight. The golden undertones she naturally possesses are model level stunning. She’s isn’t a pushover or afraid to ruffle Paxton’s feathers by pushing back. There are hints at an adventurous side of her that I hope to truly discover someday.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll convince her to go topless tanning with me on a private beach. Nothing brings two women closer than tanning their tatas together while drinking top shelf tequila in their margaritas.
Wyatt continues coughing comically loud.
She looks up at Paxton with a stern look.
His silent refusal to apologize for finding humor in my joke gone slightly awry lets me know he’s definitely whipped but not completely broken.
We’ve always shared the same wave length when it comes to comedy.
“It was a joke, not a dick.” My eyes meet Wyatt’s. “There’s no need to choke on it.”
The subtle reference to our encounter earlier has him coughing in agony once more.
“Per l'amor di Dio, Julez, don’t say dick,” Pax scolds.
“Don’t say dick, per favore,” I playfully taunt.
He rolls his eyes before chastising his best friend. “Wyatt, stop being a fucking drama queen. You know she was kidding.”
“Not about choking on dick.”
Paxton lets out another exasperated sigh, though this time it gets a collective set of snickers. “Do you need a timeout?”
“Do you need to be reminded that I’m not six and my colorful language, like my decisions on who to date, aren’t your choice, but mine?”
“Non iniziare subito quelle stronzate.”
Did he really just tell me not to start bullshit after threatening to put me in timeout like an impetuous child?!
More things I haven’t missed about my brother.
We’re only three years apart, yet he has a tendency to treat me like we were born in completely different eras.
I prepare to bite back when Nate invades the conversation.
“Seriously,” he starts at the same time Wyatt snatches a champagne glass from a waiter passing by. “How the hell did we not know you have a sister? How the hell could you keep this from us?”
“Why?” Wyatt practically whines. “Why would you keep this from us?”
Ryann noticeably tenses indicating to me she knew.
Of course she knew.
He’s gonna fucking marry her. He’s more or less adopted her daughter. His entire life now revolves around the family he’s building with them rather than the one he lost with us.
Doesn’t change the fact I still hate that she knows my secret.
Hate the lingering look of sympathy that comes with her stare.
How is it not blatantly obvious to my family why I have no desire to be in this city?
Paxton clears his throat. “It’s a long story.”
“And not one meant for our engagement party,” Ryann emphasizes in obvious hopes they’ll let it go.
Wyatt’s mouth twitches to demand more answers, but I gently rattle the ice in my glass, and he abandons the notion, hand nonchalantly adjusting his crotch like he’s possessed by some sort of Pavlovian response.
Fuck, I want him begging.
Panting.
Crying for me to make him come again…
Enthusiasm coats my brother’s voice. “Julez is actually moving back to Highland-”
“Temporarily,” I interject.
“-for work. So, you assholes will be seeing a lot more of her.”
Wyatt gags on the sip of champagne he had been enjoying.
“Possibly.” My addition receives a grunt of disagreement from Paxton. “You’ll possibly be seeing more of me. Work has a tendency to keep me pretty busy.”
“We’ve talked about this. You have to do more than work.”
His demand is met with a glare. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t wanna do, Paxton. That’s like the best part of being an adult.”
“Then why don’t you try behaving like one?”
Pretty sure blowing a guy I wanna bang is a pretty fucking “adult thing” to do.
“Dovrei iniziare allontanandomi da questa conversazione?”
My threat to walk away from the conversation causes him to grind him teeth, an action that always expresses his irritation.
“Stay,” Wyatt quietly argues as if unable to stop himself from pleading for more time with me. “You should definitely stay.”
His comment cocks my head in intrigue. “Capisci l'italiano?”
He slowly nods his head.
“Yeah,” Ainsley eagerly encourages. “Stay for a few. Tell us about yourself.”
“Like what do you do for a living?” Meena inquires.
“I own a few boutique lingerie stores that cater to curvier women. It’s called Vicious Vixens.”
There’s a collective look of shock.
“As head of the company, I’m responsible for a number of things, most of which I simply delegate at this point. I prefer to be more hands on whenever possible, especially when I’m opening up a new boutique, which I’ll be doing here, in the late spring. Based on research done by my marketing team, Highland showed great potential for new clientele. The fact my big brother happens to be getting married in the same timeframe is just a happy coincidence.”
Happy he’s getting married.
Happy he wants to include me.
Unhappy it is the only thing my parents are capable of talking about.
“Do you have a lot of stores?” Ainsley quickly questions.
“At this time we have four worldwide.”
Nate audibly gasps. “Worldwide?”
My frame naturally lengths to lift my head higher. “Yes. I have stores in Italy, Australia, Doctenn, and one here in the US.”
Ainsley’s excitement remains. “Ohmygod, where?!”
“Dalvegan, Texas.”
“That’s a major city,” Ryann chimes in.
“With a great market I enjoy tapping.” I wink. “Highland will be our second in the states.”
Paxton promptly pressures, “Tell them about that event you attend yearly.”
I can’t stop myself from melting at his pride in me. “My company has a permanent slot at Lust and Lingerie, which is basically just a fall branch of Fashion Week centered around those in that particular department. It’s rare a small boutique secures a spot let alone a perpetual one. We’ve also been invited to Fashion Week itself the last two years as well as this year to have our line walk the runway. This year, I am hoping we do more than just catch Clara’s Culotte’s attention.”
“Wait. Wait. Clara’s Culotte?” Meena leans slightly forward. “As in the Clara’s Culotte?!”
My brother slightly angles himself towards me. “What the fuck is Clara’s Culotte again?”
“It’s where all the women buy their lingerie and underwear and shit,” Holden casually answers.
There’s a noticeable growl out of Paxton that causes his fiancée to give him a reassuring pat on the hand. “Relax, Suit. I’m sure he knows that because I’ve talked about it with the girls before.”
Holden merely smirks.
Not so sure she’s right about that.
“You’ve met with the company before?” Meena excitedly prods.
“Met. Mingled. And almost convinced them to take Vicious Vixen’s under their wing. Last year, they weren’t looking to expand. The company wasn’t performing as high as expected. This year…it doesn’t matter what they think they’re looking for. What matters is giving them something they just can’t say no to.”
Wyatt’s mouth twitches a small whimper.
Unfortunately, it catches the attention of Nate who delivers a disapproving glare.
The blue eyed devil attempts to play it off, “Determined.”
“Essere determinati aiuta a impedirti di essere sconfitto.”
Another look of hunger flashes briefly in his eyes. “Quindi, sei fluente in italiano?”
Hearing the smoothness of him using one of my native tongues has my thighs anxious to drift apart so he can use that skill in a different avenue.
Damn, I don’t remember the last time a guy had me this hung up.
“Of course she’s fluent in it, dick brain. Same father, different biological moms.” Paxton grumbles.
His was white and died shortly after he was born. The woman who raised him, the woman he considers his mother, the woman who can’t dote on him enough, yet has an impeccable way of criticizing me every chance she gets, is black, giving me the honey brown glow that his best friend can’t seem to look away from.
Wyatt’s voice drops a little lower, eyes still pinned on me. “L'italiano è l'unica lingua straniera che parli?”
“No.” The answer is proceeded with me having another sip of my drink.
As much as I wanna add I know how to scream for more in at least five languages, it doesn’t seem wise with Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum looming disapprovingly close.
“Uh…translation?” Ainsley innocently requests.
I offer her a sweet smile. “I merely told Wyatt my feelings about determination. Being determined helps prevent you from being defeated. He then asked if I was fluent in Italian and if it was the only language I spoke.”
Meena slyly says, “Supongo que no es.”
“You assume correctly.”
An impressed look crosses her face yet wrinkles Ainsley’s. “Am I the only one here who doesn’t understand foreign languages?”
“Yet she loves foreign movies,” Nate jokingly points out.
We lightly chuckle together in spite of her frowning.
He presses a reassuring kiss on her temple. “Relax, Kid. Between Meena and Julez, I’m sure you’ll pick up a few phrases.”
“The important ones.” I wink.
Wyatt’s bottom lip momentarily disappears between his teeth while his vision soars to the ceiling.
I love that this is torture for him.
I love having that kind of power over a guy.
It’s one of my not so secret guilty pleasures.
“Oh, I love her,” Meena chuckles, leaning into Holden’s hold.
Paxton grouses, “You really consider this being on your best behavior?”
With a playful shrug, I state, “Eh. Più o meno.”
Probably more than less at this point.
“On that note, I need to get up to my room. I have a conference call.”
My brother’s tone drips of disapproval. “At this time of night?”
“It’s day time in Australia.”
“Who the fuck are you talking to in Australia?!”
“That’s classified.”
“What the fuck do you mean that’s classified?”
I pretend to hesitate with my answer. “He’s an international spy.”
“He?!” Paxton roars.
There’s a small quiver in Wyatt’s voice. “Stai uscendo con una spia?”
As much as I want to continue winding up my brother, alleviating Wyatt’s anguish abruptly ascends to the top of my list of actions. “Stavo scherzando. The video conference is with the manager of that branch.”
“Joking?!” Paxton starts to bark when Ryann gives his hand a loving stroke to calm down. “You think that was funny?!”
“Watching the veins bulge out of your face is usually pretty funny…”
His scowl deepens.
“I think you should name that one Rocky.” My finger pokes the area between his eyebrows. “The Italian Stallion.”
“Totally get that movie reference,” Ainsley happily mumbles.
“Totally proud you get that movie reference,” Nate retorts.
Holden shakes his head. “We all get that movie reference. It was pretty obvious.”
“What movie?” Ryann’s question stuns the group.
“I stand corrected,” Holden sighs in surprise.
The comment breaks the big brother trance he had slipped into. He peers down at his fiancée with a look of disbelief. “Sei serio?”
She scrunches her face. “Um…yes?”
“Wow, we’ll have to fix that…”
“We should do a group movie night!” Meena suggests. “Our place?”
They begin to chat about possible times to make it happen, and I use the segue to attempt my exit unnoticed.
Unfortunately for me, Paxton’s radar begins to blare the second my body has taken one step back. “You absolutely have to leave?”
“Sì.”
His face flinches as if mentally debating the best way to change my mind, yet instead he commands, “Wyatt, walk my little sister back to her room.”
His best friend begins coughing loudly and pounding his chest, clearly in some sort of food related agony. We patiently wait for him to explain, which comes after three large gulps of champagne. “Wrong…pipe.”
Sums up my feelings about him quite nicely.
The majority of the group seems to buy the unclever excuse, but Holden holds onto his skeptical stare.
He’s like having a detective snooping around…or more accurately, an FBI agent.
Honorary?
I don’t know the details about his situation to decipher the difference, but he damn sure knows every inch of my past.
That little note leaves me feeling violated, a feeling I get tired of experiencing.
Adjusting the grip on my glass, I argue, “I don’t need anyone to walk me back to my room, Paxton.”
He ignores my retort. “Walk her to her room and make sure she’s not followed by any random assholes or stopped by that fucking bartender again.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows draw tightly together. “Which bartender?”
The hint of jealousy tempts me to snicker. “It’s not important.”
“It is important.” Wyatt’s lack of pause shifts the attention his direction once more. He adjusts his black tie and tries to brush it off. “So I know who it is Pax wants me to protect you from.”
“The world,” I childishly mutter.
“Why don’t I walk her back?” Holden promptly volunteers.
“Why would I ask you to abandon your wife when Wyatt doesn’t have shit else to do?” Paxton counters. Holden’s mouth doesn’t have time to move before my brother is continuing with his speech, “Walk her back, and then you can go find the chick that blew you. I’m sure there’s still time to convince her to follow you home.”
My eyebrows lift in shock.
God, why am I surprised dudes gossip as bad as women?
“H-h-how did you know that?”
His stuttering leaves my brows suspended.
Wait…He didn’t tell them?
Paxton nods his head towards Wyatt’s unzipped suit pants.
A deep crimson color coats Wyatt’s cheeks at the same time he hastily zips them.
Ainsley loudly giggles. “You’re blushing!”
He swallows deeply and shakes his head. “Never.”
“Your face looks like Julez’s drink!”
“You are pretty red,” Nate agrees, head tilting to the side. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush.”
“Because I’m not blushing.”
“You are too,” Ainsley continues to tease. “Even your neck is turning red!”
“It’s just a little warm in here.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “It is not.”
His eyes narrow at Ainsley to let it go, yet I allow my smile to momentarily brighten.
I’ll admit it. Knowing I’ve got him acting out of character has me feeling empowered.
And even hornier.
Ainsley slowly lifts her wine glass at the same time she punctuates each word. “You. Are. Embarrassed.”
Ryann mumbles in what sounds like defeat, “God, I hope the woman wasn’t one of my coworkers.”
Paxton grips her a little tighter and points an accusatory finger at him. “Stay away from Ryann’s coworkers.”
“How about I do the first task you asked and walk Julez up to her room?” He motions his head towards the ballroom doors. “Shall we?”
I lean up to kiss my big brother on the cheek. “Enjoy the rest of your engagement party.” My eyes swing back and forth between him and his future bride’s. “Congrats again. I’m really happy for you two.”
His brown eyes warm in a familiar way. “Thanks for being here, Julez.”
After saying goodnight to the group, promising to text him when I’m settled in my room, and dropping my half empty glass on a server’s tray, the two of us exit the busy celebration side by side. We pass an older woman who’s wearing earbuds and pushing a janitorial cart towards the bathrooms. From the way she’s bobbing her head side to side it’s obvious the only thing she’s focused on is the music blaring in her ears. Wyatt and I both lightly laugh under our breaths. He pushes the button for the elevator while I allow my attention to wander to the other side of the lobby where I notice a dark haired male gripping a bellhop cart a little too tightly. The shape of his oddly oval face and slightly uneven features twists the nerves in the pit of my stomach. I leave my quizzical stare locked onto the stranger until the doors ding open for us to enter.
That wasn’t him.
There’s no way in hell it could’ve been.
He’s dead.
He’s been dead for years.
Chances are that bellhop didn’t even look remotely like him…
Ugh. Another reason I hate to be back in this city.
There’s nowhere else in the entire fucking world that I feel the need to look over my shoulder.
That I feel like there’s a ghost lurking around every corner waiting to attack.
Waiting to finish the job it started over a decade ago.
An unusual chill creeps down my spine causing me to shiver. Wyatt’s deep gaze drops down to me, and I use the opportunity to distract myself from the previous plague of thoughts.
My smile reappears, and his immediately follows.
I swipe my tongue across my full lips and watch his breath hitch.
Our eyes continue to linger until my hand aimlessly wanders across the curves of my chest. He doesn’t bothering trying to stop his crystal stare from caressing what fingers can’t.
By the time we’re wandering down the hall towards my room, I’m convinced our subtle cat and mouse game has him willing to follow me inside despite the obvious consequences. However, as soon as I swipe my keycard to grant me entrance, he takes a step backwards, denying himself what it is he obviously wants.
Rather than pull him in and petition him to drop his morals, I simply lean against the door frame and brazenly ask, “If I wasn’t who I am, would you really have ditched your friends to come and find me? Convince me to go back to your place like Paxton said?”
“Fuck. Yeah.”
His lack of vacillation only dampens my panties further.
Wyatt thoughtlessly moves a little closer. “Would you have come?”
“Absolutely.” I lean forward and drag a finger slowly down his firm chest. “Probably three or four times at least.”
A delicious, dark groan rumbles in his throat.
“Buonanotte, Wyatt.”
“Buonanotte, Sweet Cheeks.”
The nickname receives a soft whimper of regret.
Why couldn’t I be someone else?
Anyone else at this point?
Anyone whose big brother is not best friends with the only guy in Highland that has managed to steal and keep my attention for longer than a commercial break.
I start to shut the door when his hand abruptly lands against it. “If you’re not busy tomorrow night, you should join us at The Bank Job to celebrate my birthday.”
The invite causes me to grow a grin. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because it’s New Year’s Eve, and nobody should spend it alone.” The thoughtful answer is quickly proceeded with a more predictable one. “Besides, I’m sure Pax would appreciate being able to keep an eye on you during the holiday.”
I don’t bother hiding my sneer.
Yeah, just what every girl dreams of. Having her big brother run interference all night so she goes home drunk, horny, and alone.
Again.
The sound of my cell phone beginning to ring on the opposite side of the room pushes me to end the conversation. “I’ll see if I’ve got room for you on my calendar.”
His jaw goes slack in surprise.
“Night, Wyatt.”
This time I successfully shut the door with a wink and cross over to the dresser where my phone is waiting.
Maybe tomorrow night will be different…
Maybe I won’t have to end up back in my room alone.
Maybe I won’t end up back in my room at all.
Maybe I can convince Wyatt to forget the label I have on me for one night and enjoy the person I am underneath it.
The risk taker.
The adventurer.
The troublemaker.
The woman who shines brightly when she’s not trapped underneath her big brother’s shadow.
Maybe tomorrow night Wyatt will do something no one else in this city seems capable of. Maybe he’ll take the time to get to know the real me as opposed to the tragic tale I’ve unwillingly become.