Last night, she’d talked about dreams for the club, for the future, with a gleam and glint in her eye, and made me wish and wonder whether or not I’d see them come to fruition.
And when I talked about mine, she listened, asked insightful questions, and I couldn’t help wondering if she was seeing herself in them as well.
Somehow, she had gone from a dark mark in my family’s past, to a shimmer, not yet taking form, in my future.
And how it happened, I may never know.
I only know that now, having only left her side five minutes ago, I ache to be near her again.
My brother was a fucking fool.
He is so happy now, but could he have actually had a fulfilling relationship with Clarissa if he’d just opened himself up to it?
Jealousy streaks through me like a lightning bolt.
The thought that my brother had once touched her irrationally burns.
I’ve been jealous of my brothers before, but not over women. Until now, we have never shared even a glance at the same woman. None of us were ever interested in relationships, which made it easy never to fall for the same woman.
But it turns out… it just took the right woman.
It took Clarissa.
I order two breakfast burritos and coffees. And step outside to go through my messages.
Voicemail and texts from Kingsley and Kylian. Not surprisingly, there’s nothing from Damien.
Kingsley’s messages only say to call him. That we need to talk.
Kylian’s messages are… well, Kylian-ish. Ranging from “What the fuck, dude?” to “Tell me something about yourself that no one else would know so I know it’s really you” to “What do you think your smooshed together name is going to be “Mattarissa? Clarrias? Your children are going to be so confused when they see their Uncle Damien’s photos with their mother.”
None of it helpful. But he rarely is. God gave him a brilliant brain with the worst case of adult ADHD I’ve ever seen in person. He’s like an energizer bunny on meth. Brilliant and bouncy.
I dial Kingsley’s number. Maybe he’s still in New York, who knows. It’s eight a. m. in Hong Kong and Kylian’s probably already in a morning meeting.
Do I know what I’m going to say? No. Is there anything he can say that might change my mind? Maybe before Clarissa and I slept together. Now? I can’t imagine a single thing.
He picks up on the first ring and the conversation goes as well as any reasonable person might have expected. A lot of “do you know what you’re doing” and “I don’t think this is the right thing to do even for the IPO. We can work something else out.” But the one that is hardest to handle, and the one that I’ve been telling myself since this whole business started is “You can understand why Damien’s not going to be okay with this.” I do understand.
But just as I understood when he decided to follow his heart, I’m going to expect that he does the same for me.
I hang up with Kingsley with the promise that the four of us will talk soon.
Although I don’t know what else can be said.
I know them as well as they know me. None of us have ever been convinced to change our mind once it’s been made up, and I made it clear my mind is stuck on Clarissa.
I grab our order and walk back to the club; the sunshine beating down on my head, helping to dissolve some of the alcohol I consumed last night. I think about maybe taking her upstate to see the ranch I’m thinking of buying and it adds a spring to my step. I turn the corner and something I see makes me stop.
No. It can’t be.
A man looking curiously like Gerry is getting into a car outside the club.
I know he arrived in New York last night for a board meeting we have tomorrow, but there’s no reason for him to be here.
Maybe I’m more drunk than I think I am. I take a sip of my coffee and hurry my step so I can see Clarissa again.
***
“Have you talked to your brothers?” Clarissa asks later in bed after we get home from the club. We’d showered together, and after a lazy fuck under the water, me sitting on the shower bench and her riding me, we’d come to my bed.
Legs intertwined, I spoon her, burying my face in her freshly washed hair. She’d murmured the question, eyes closed, face resting on the pillow, so I know sleep is coming soon. I could wait until she falls asleep but I think it’s fair that she knows what’s going on. “I talked to Kingsley.”
“Not Damien?” she murmurs.
“No.”
I think she’s asleep when she mumbles again. “Kylian?”
“Kylian is no help in this situation, he just wants gossip.”
Clarissa giggles, the vibration speeding through my body. “I always liked him the most.” “He’s easy to like.”
She sighs. “He doesn’t think the same about me.”
“Good. Less chance of him stealing you away.”
She pulls my arm against her stomach. “I would go, too. He’s hot. But he and I are closer in age, and I want a sugar daddy.”
“You’re sassy tonight.”
She giggles again, playing with my fingers. “Get used to it, Mr. Baxter.”
A kiss against the back of her neck makes her sigh. “I hope I never do, future Mrs. Baxter.” I can’t see her face, but I sense her eyes opening.
“Are we really doing this?” she asks, more awake.
“Try to get out of it. Go on, just try.” I dig my fingers into her side, eliciting a squeal, and she wriggles, turning over onto her back, looking up at me.
But the smile on her face quickly fades.
“Hey, what’s going on in there?” I whisper, gently stroking her head.
“What if Damien never comes around?” she asks, echoing the same thought I’ve had since he found out about us.
“Then he doesn’t.” It’s as simple as that. But I can’t help the gnawing feeling of guilt in my chest. It’s not as simple as that at all.
She shakes her head. “I can’t let that happen. I know how close you all are. That will kill you. And it will probably kill him as well.”
I kiss her, hoping to assuage her worry. It’s not her problem to worry about, it’s mine. “It’s not going to happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”