Chapter Eighteen – Nixon

"It's ten million dollars."

I stand in the middle of a marble foyer with a spiral staircase that seems to be reaching toward the heavens. This house is stunning, but then so is the woman I want to see living in it. Seven bedrooms, ten bathrooms. We could fill it with kids and still get lost in it.

I nod at Jeff Riley, the top luxury real estate agent in Vegas. This house sits on a five-acre parcel in a gated community with top-notch security. It's opulent but perfect. It's about time Marcella understands that she's worth it. All of it.

She can even have a horse if she wants one. Hell, she can even have a peacock or a pink flamingo if that floats her boat.

"I'll have to think about it and run it by my brother, Reagan."

Jeff nods. He knows my brother's a hot shot NYC contract attorney, running his own firm. He's got Yankees and Islanders as clients. "Just let me know if you want to write an offer. The listing agent told me we're not the only interested party walking through."

I laugh and shake my head. "You should know me well enough by now, Jeff. I always get what I want. I don't give a fuck if Donny and Marie are looking at this house. If I want it, I'll buy it. Period."

On the way out to my limo, I stop to admire the circular drive, fountain, and koi pond. I know that Marcella would get a kick out of all the brightly colored fish swimming around in the clear water. They're so free. Just like I would be if I could get rid of Dante Giovanetti for good. Bastard's been a thorn in my side for so damn long, I've forgotten what life looked like before my thirst for revenge.

I can't imagine living this perfect suburban life with the woman I see in my future when he's still hovering between us.

Once I slide into the back seat of my limo, I punch my iPhone for Reagan. He answers on the third ring.

"Hey, bro. Didn't expect to hear from you today. What's up?"

"I need your advice. Your legal advice."

There's a long pause, and I realize I've hurt his feelings. My brother's more sensitive than me in spite of his bad-ass reputation, and I completely dispensed with the polite conversation and drove straight to the point.

"Is it Dante?"

I sigh and realize I can't go back and make nice because I've already blown it. In my haste to please Marcella, I've alienated my brother. While she inspires me to be a better man, a leopard can't change its spots on a dime.

"Nah, he's the same douche, different day. This is something else. I want to buy a house in the burbs. Acreage, gated community. All that jazz."

Reagan whistles low and long. "Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd leave the Armónico, even in the middle of the night when most other people are sleeping. What changed your mind?"

"Linc needs a home and grass to run around in. A metal jungle is no place for a kid. Especially not one as curious and precocious as our youngest brother. He's doing so great in his therapy, a new house would only seal the deal."

I decide to hedge because my relationship with Marcella feels like a baby bird that's not ready to leave the nest yet. If I tell Reagan what's going on, he'll lawyer me until he pulls out my feelings under intense cross examination when I haven't even admitted them to myself.

"You're right," he agrees. "I thought Linc would be better off in a house for years, but I also know arguing with you serves to be an exercise in futility. Thought I'd wait it out and just let you come to your own conclusion. You're the most stubborn man I know, Nix. As stubborn as a jackass."

"Send a jackass to law school, and he turns into a smartass."

Reagan chuckles and I break down and laugh, too. It feels good to be talking to him. I long for the time when all my brothers will be in the same room together again. Right now, only Reagan and Ford are out of the fold. Ford took off after our dad's death and landed in San Francisco where he's a billionaire techy. He creates apps for phones or some shit.

"I can't believe that Nixon Caldwell made a funny," Reagan says. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you took a vacation or something."

Or something.

But I'm not going to tell him that the something he's innocently referring to has the mind of a steel trap, the body of a goddess, and the pussy of a porn star. He'd never believe me anyway. We both have the same attitude about women. They're for fucking and not much else. He's probably a bigger player than I am because at least I'm up front about it. No woman could ever accuse me of being a liar.

Until now.

Because I'm lying to Marcella by pretending to keep it cool. My archaic belief system belongs in the past. I'd love nothing more than to tie her down. I've even had dreams at night about riding her bareback so I can put my son in her belly. Then maybe she'd never leave me. I know she's chomping at the bit to get the hell out of Vegas, so this house is my selfish way of keeping her here. There's no reason she can't attend college in-state and let me pay for it.

"You still there, bro?" Reagan's question brings me back to earth. I'd been imagining Marcella's stomach, swollen with my child. I bet she'd look so beautiful pregnant.

"Yup, still here. Anyway, can I send you over the contract to look it over? It's eight figures, so I don't want to fuck anything up."

"Holy shit! You're buying a house that's worth more than ten million dollars?" Reagan sounds like I'm planning to buy some ocean front property in California.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I counter. "Where you live, a shitbox apartment costs that much. Add in some outdoor space that you can fit ten people into and you're looking at twenty mill. This is a ten thousand square foot house on five acres. It's worth every penny. Even has a stable for horses and a koi pond."

"A koi pond. Hell, that seals the deal then. I don't even need to look at the contract. Just sign on the dotted line."

"Don't forget the fountain, dipshit," I say, fucking with him right back. "It's got a fucking thirty-foot fountain, erupting right in the middle of the koi pond. Shooting water straight up toward the sky."

I can hear Reagan snort on the other end of the line. "Your fountain sounds like my cock."

"You have a cock?"

"Really funny, bro. I have no idea what's gotten into you, but I'm digging this new and improved Nixon Caldwell. Kind of like he's not wearing his underwear too tight anymore. If this is what buying a house does for you, I say go for it. Just send the contract over to my assistant, and I'll look it over as soon as I get it."

"Thanks, Reagan, and don't be a stranger. You should come home for a visit. I promise I'll show you a good time."

"Your idea of a good time involves scotch and strippers. I'm not sure I could handle it. After so much time in NYC, my tastes have become much more refined."

I smile even though I know he can't see it, but he'll be able to hear it in my voice. "Wouldn't you enjoy a woman who's a sure thing after all those socialites and corporate climbers you deal with? Not to mention the women who think they have balls of their own, so all they want to do is bust yours? That's drama and high fucking maintenance up there in NYC."

"You might have a point. In Vegas, it's all fake tits. It NYC, it's more like fake personas. You never know who the woman is behind the mask. It's why I'm still single. Unlike you, I'd actually like to settle down and start a family. Shit. I'm almost thirty. I don't want to be one of those old dads who have to use a cane to make it down the aisle at my kid's college graduation or breaks a hip dancing the chicken dance at their wedding."

"That's a little melodramatic, don't you think. I'm actually turning thirty in a few months. You have eighteen months until that momentous event. You'll find the one. Hell, you're so good at firing questions at people, you're the least of my worries. I'm far more concerned about Ford since he never checks in. The only time I even know he's alive is if I read about him online in some tech magazine. I'm starting to think he's gay."

Reagan laughs. "He's not gay. Remember that time we walked in on him and Haylee fucking like rabbits in the penthouse suite after prom? I sure hope he's developed some finesse since then. He was pistoning in and out of her so hard I thought he'd break his dick off."

I run a hand through my hair. "Shit. Totally forgot about that. Definitely not gay. Maybe a little sexually frustrated, though. Can't imagine a woman thinking his ramming technique is kosher. Thank God I only had to see his hairy ass and not his junk."

"You said it," Reagan agrees, then sighs and the atmosphere between us grows serious, even from so many miles away. "Hey, Nix. I'm glad you called. Don't be a stranger."

"I won't." He's right. I've missed talking to him. Bouncing ideas off him. Not being alone. It always helps to have a partner in crime who's seen the same darkness that you have so you don't have to apologize for the fact that a cloud of it still lingers overhead. "And let me know about my crib."

"I will."

After hanging up, I lean my head back into the leather headrest and let my thoughts drift to Marcella. She's become the only ray of light in my dark life. My mind used to be filled with thoughts of Dante and the many ways I could fuck with him until I take him down for good. Now, it almost feels like I've softened. That may be so, but I'll never relinquish my thirst for revenge. No motherfucker who took everything from me and my brothers will ever get away with it. And now I can add Marcella to the many reasons I need to take that bastard down.

I clench and unclench my hands as I try to release some of the emotion that's been building for days. I want to tell her how I feel. Then I don't. Then I do. Each time I see her, the words almost tumble from my lips, but I'm still holding back. I'm not sure why. It's been months since I first saw her, since she started work as Linc's para. Maybe I'm afraid she'll say it's too soon for me to love her. Maybe she'd be right. All I know is that when I see my future, Marcella's there, front and center. Linc keeps saying he couldn't live without her, and I know exactly how he feels. My every thought seems to be consumed by her. Can you be obsessed with someone after knowing them for so short a time? If you'd asked me that on my twenty-ninth birthday, I'd have told you to go take a flying fuck.

Women haven't been at the forefront of my mind in years. Consumed with work, I've only carved out time for the occasional demands of my body. Now, it only takes a fantasy starring Marcella Castillo and a whisper of a breeze and my cock roars to life. I fist my hand again, thinking about the throbbing between my legs. Next time I see her, I'm going to throw her on the bed and split her wide open. But I know that not even that will begin to ease the ache I've only ever felt for her.