Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name (11 page)

I
t was minutes after seven when Tish pulled into the Blacksilles’ complex in Bel Air. Instead of staying there with me, she’d opted for spending her next couple of hours in L.A. with some ex-girlfriend of hers. She’d be flying back home in the morning to oversee the gym. I’d left my top trainer, Mike, in charge, but there wasn’t a soul who could handle PSFC better than Tish.

Halfway around the round-about fountain, which is of an enormous marble statue of a naked woman posing rather provocatively as water gushed about her, Tish halted the jeep and I lethargically slumped out. “Enjoy yourself tonight, Tish. And call me as soon as you land tomorrow.”

“Okay. Think you need to get some rest, though. You look beat.”

“Fully intend to. ‘Night.”
What did she think I was going to do? Throw a house party?

As I trudged up the steps of the gray and white colonial-style mansion, I dug around into my bag for my keys, grumbling in frustration when my fingers kept touching everything except the keys. But then the front door swung open, and in its wide frame stood my dear brother, Romaine, smiling down at a petite, young blonde maid I’d never seen before; she must be new. She bit her lip, gazing up at him with dewy eyes as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear speaking to her soft tones.

Romaine sensed my presence and glanced up, his smile stretching into a grin. “Mi hermana hermosa! You couldn’t have told me you were coming?”

“Why, sicko? The words ‘I’m coming’ are usually reserved for the man sweating on top of me.”

The young blonde flicked me a coy glance, and her cheeks reddened as she excused herself. At my unreformable brother, I shook my head in contempt. “Let me guess, Dad’s not home and that pretty blond is new and unaware of your propensity for screwing around with maids?”

“Shh, smart ass! She hasn’t given it up yet.”

I laughed. “You seriously need to stop this shit, Romaine.”

Romaine was like a charming potion. He could charm the thongs off any woman, young or old. For some reason, however, he had a weird predilection for sleeping around with vulnerable and hopeful maids. Don’t ask me why. It was probably his kind of high. His house was just two blocks away from our family home, so he was always on the Blacksilles’ complex whenever he knew our father was out. His own maids never lasted more than three months, and they were always young, pretty and bodacious, as if he hand-picked them.

With a puff of curly dark hair perpetually bouncing on his shoulders, eyes that were exactly like mine, and the most perfect and whitest dentures I’d ever seen, Romaine was two years older than me, was six feet two and owned the body of a male model. And I
loved
him more than I loved a cup of
Milky Way Malt
.

“The ever-berating Axia. I can’t say I missed that part of you,” he chuckled before lifting me in a bear-hug.

“Put me down, Romaine!” I squealed. “I’m tired as hell.”

“You’re
tired
?” he asked with wide, gleaming eyes that told me he was brewing something devious. “As in, ‘I’ve-been-working-all-day-and-all-I-wanna-do-is-sleep’ tired? Like, ‘I’m-hungry-and-I-need-a-bath-but-I-need-sleep-more’ tired?”

Shaking my head at the punk, I brushed past him into the house. “Yes, Romaine. That kind of tired. What’s your point?”

“Then tonight’s my lucky night!” He folded his arms over his chest and stood tall, conveying confidence. “I’m challenging you to an arm-wrestle. One grand.”

“Ha! You think because I’m tired you’ll have a chance at beating me?”

“Unless you’re lying about being tired, then yes. I’ve been practicing for your ass, and it’s about time I win back all my money from you. Fifteen hundred.”

“Hermano, I’m advising you to lay it at rest if you don’t wanna lose any money tonight. Go resume your pursuit of the new blonde and let me be.”

He snorted. “You’re just chickening out because you know I’ll beat you. Two grand.”

We entered the kitchen and I dropped my bag on the breakfast bar. “You never learn,” I said, cricking my fingers and flexing my right arm to awaken the muscles. Settling on a bar stool with my elbow down on the counter, I was ready. “Bring your ass over here, estúpido.”

Romaine smirked and came into position, so sure that tonight would be the night he finally won a challenge. Our elbows kissed as our hands clasped. “Ready?”

“Always,” he grinned.

“Do your best, mi hermano.”

And there we were, all groans and strains, muscles rigid and bulging, hands clasped in the wrestle. Romaine’s proclamation of practicing seemed true, because I never had to put so much energy into a wrestle with him before. Or maybe it’s because I was tired. Nevertheless, he still wasn’t strong enough to bring me down. The dolt failed to realize that I did stuff like this on a daily basis; I could beat him even half-asleep. Ready to teach the sod a lesson, I made a sharp yank of my hand to the left, pulling Romaine’s down. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face red and strained as he struggled to bring my hand back to right. Halfway down, he released a long growl, and then in one strong move, I brought him down.

“Mierda!” he swore, slamming his fist on the counter.

Laughing my face off, I grabbed my bag from the counter and started out of the kitchen. “I warned you. I’m going to bed. And I expect to find my two grand neatly enclosed in an envelope under my bedroom door in the morning.”

“I-I don’t understand. You don’t even lift weights!” he said indignantly.

“That’s because I strive to look sexy, not muscular. Who wants a bitch with muscles?”

“I
will
beat you one day, little sis,” he grumbled.

“Don’t count on it!” I belatedly yelled as I mounted the stairs to my bedroom.

The vibration of my cellphone went off again. It had been vibrating non-stop since the end of my photo shoot. But like before, I didn’t even look at the screen because I knew exactly who it was. The caller had gotten under my skin, and I
needed
to stay away from him. He was right. I was all high and mighty, until he touched me. All saucy and peppery, until he touched me. In control and in denial, until he touched me. It was hard to explain, hard to understand, as if it were some magic spell. The fact is, I couldn’t resist his touch and he knew it. And he would continue to use it against me. It’s never safe to be with a man who knows your weakness, because you will forever be the submissive, and will always be
out
of control. You’ll lose your identity, your sense of self, and be forever in his light. A woman’s weakness should never be known by the man. And Lovello knew mine.

True, I’d agreed that he could take my digits from Tish and phone me after the shoot. But at that time I was undermined and under the spell of his touch. Away from him, I could think a heck of a lot clearer. Keeping my distance from Lovello Sex-on-Legs Nelson was the smartest thing to do.

Once I opened my bedroom door, I was asleep before I even made it to the bed.

There’s always been something peaceful about waking up in the Blacksilles’ house. Maybe it’s because I knew that my father was right downstairs, or that my brother was only two blocks away, or maybe it was just that feeling of being
home
. My father had bought this house after Romaine’s birth. And he’d kept it, even with our back and forth between here and Colombia. The house was modernized with each year’s new invention, and grew larger with time because my father was perpetually adding, expanding and refurbishing, making it clear that selling the house was not an option. We were all attached to it: even for my mother, this was home.

Over the past ten or so hours, rest had taken its course and rejuvenation had slowly settled in, now leaving me bright-eyed, clear-headed, and in sync with the rising sun. Skinny rays of sunlight peaked through the window blinds, and the pungent smell of eggs and bacon and coffee seeped under the crevice of my bedroom door.

A lazy stretch arched my back off the bed, and I thought about doing absolutely nothing today, except for working out, of course. It had been ages since I’d had me a day of just lying around and doing nothing. But while a lay-in-bed day sounded pleasurable, the rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten much of anything yesterday. I needed refueling. So I slid from the bed and went straight into the shower.

After showering, I donned stylistically ripped jeans shorts, a white Hollister T-shirt and flip-flops. I grinned in satisfaction at the small white envelope that was sitting at my door when I opened it. Poor Romaine, he wanted so badly to beat me. Maybe one day I’d let him.
Not
.

The sounds of deep male laughter traveled from the kitchen and dipped into my ears as I journeyed downstairs while checking emails on my phone. Frowning, I checked the time to be sure that it was still morning. Yep, five minutes after eight. Yet my
father
was up? It wasn’t his wont to have guests this early in the morning. Vince Blacksille was never a morning person. Anytime after noon when his grumpiness had melted off, sure, he was approachable for conversation.
Never
before that.

Laughter rang out again, then I stopped abruptly at a familiar-sounding voice.
Nah.
I immediately discarded the inane thought that it was
his
voice. Not at all. It couldn’t possibly be him. Resuming my email sifting, I continued down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Once I turned the corner, my worst fears turned out to be true. It
was
him. Here. In our house. Sitting next to my father at the breakfast bar, unknowing of my presence, their backs to me.

They both turned when I harrumphed.

My father stood up and came to hug me. “Axia, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you came in last night.”

Vince Blacksille was a handsome man who looked around ten years younger than his age. I assume this was because he smiled a lot, and was the most benign person I’ve ever known. Anger was a rare emotion for him, and his easygoing persona made him favorable to some of the most powerful people. I’d lost count of how many businesses he was in partnership with, the majority of which he’d encouraged Romaine and I to invest in. He was about six feet two with a slender frame. His night-black hair was cut short and not a strand of gray hair was evident.

He gazed down at me with dark eyes and a smile he reserved only for his loved ones. When I’d arrived in the morning yesterday he was still in bed, and I’d left almost immediately for the photo shoot, and when I came in last night he was absent. So he was now seeing me for the first time since I arrived.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I was tired anyway. I went straight to bed.”

Vince hugged me tight again. “Oh, I’ve missed you. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Daddy.”

Unable to focus on my father’s over-affection of not seeing me for a
month,
even though I was only a one-hour flight away, my eyes skittered past him and landed on Lovello who was staring at me with an impassive expression. Casually clothed in black jeans, black T-shirt, a chocolate-brown leather jacket, and with his inky hair customarily tousled, the man looked like he’d just walked off the center pages of a magazine. Lost for words, I slid a questioning gaze back at Vince.

Vince smiled. “You remember my old friend Marcello Nelson, the one I play golf with and go horseback riding with on occasion, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Well, you know he’s
always
bragging about his boys.” He walked over to Lovello and slapped a palm on his shoulder. “This is his youngest. Lovello Nelson. CEO of Coded Solutions
,
home of his social networks RisquePeers, Dawdlers and Tellit
.
Founder also of the booming software company MEU
.
You might’ve heard of him?”

It became clear to me that he hadn’t told my father that he knew me. ‘Founder’ of so many goddamn things and yet he still ‘found’ time to play these silly games.