Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name (49 page)

The valet pulled up my jeep at that moment, and handed my keys over to me. I dipped into my purse and tipped him a one hundred dollar bill. A wide smile split his face and I was glad that someone, anyone, at least, was allowed a modicum of cheer tonight.

Turning my attention back to Trevillo, I simply said, “He bites,” then hopped into the jeep. I turned the key in the ignition and my Hummer H2 roared to life.

Trevillo’s brows knitted in confusion as he strode up to the jeep and tapped on the window for me to power it down. When I did, he asked, “
What
?”

“When you get back to the dinner table, check Nicole’s arms and shoulders.
That’s
my evidence.”

My foot hit the gas and the jeep was off before Trevillo could utter another word.

The sonuvabitch freakin’ bites.

XXVI

O
ne hand went before the other, slicing through the water, propelling my body forward. Reaching the end wall, I flipped over and started another lap. This would be around the fiftieth lap since I jumped off.

With my eyes and ears closed, I couldn’t see or hear anything, and that was my goal. I didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to hear. Nothing. Just to concentrate on moving my
body
forward through this resistant source. At least it created the illusion of me getting somewhere — even if it was just from one short point to the next and then back again, and again, and again.

But outside of this source, even though I walked and talked and tried that thing called ‘moving on’, I wasn’t really getting anywhere. I merely placed one foot before the next, carrying my life on my legs, but I remained in the same spot, like walking on a treadmill. I wasn’t going anywhere. There was nowhere to go. There was nowhere I
wanted
to go.

It had been five weeks since that heart-wrenching night at The Golden Seven. Lovello and I haven’t seen nor heard from each other since. We had a silent break-up. A break-up where no words were needed. No screaming or shouting or verbally abusing the other. It was just one of those break-ups where we both knew that that was it. It was over.

The day after, I packed his belongings and called his housemaid, Rosa, over to get them. But I hired securities to deliver his 1.1 million dollar
Chopard
watch back to him. Which was returned. And which I’d sent back. Yeah, we’d engaged in a back and forth with that gift until he finally gave up and kept it. Getting him out of my mind and heart was, well, impossible. Veraciously speaking, though, I wasn’t trying hard enough to get him out. In fact, I permanently planted him there. Lovello Nelson was too sweet a treat to let go of. But I’m proud to say that I haven’t shed a single tear. At least I still had a modicum of strength left.

A week after that, I’d felt overwhelmed with the undying memories of him being in my house, so I’d hired a designer to redecorate the house with new furniture and all. That’d helped for all of two days before memories of him came deluging again.

Not being in a frame of mind to relay any kind of affection and attention to Timo, I’d handed him over to an ecstatic Ally for long-term keep. Call me a bad mom if you want —
I’m flipping the bird at you right now.

Then, I’d looked around and seen my housekeeper, Donna, and figured that the memories were still there because of her. Because Lovello was the one who’d hired her. So I fired her.

That didn’t help much either. So I tried staying at Trudy’s. But I was out of that house before three days had passed — hearing her and Tish making all those sex noises gave me nausea.

That’s when I figured maybe I needed a new home. As a consequence, I’d dialed up my new buddy Trevillo and blew up a few unnecessary millions buying a penthouse in one of his newly built high-rise apartments that granted a spectacular view of the San Francisco skyline.

Whenever I checked my bank account — which was rare — the numbers there always surprised me. My father had pushed Romaine and I to invest in so many businesses that I hardly remembered some of them. Profits were wired directly to my accounts, and for months my figures would be zooming up, shocking me whenever I checked them. I was more than pleased to know that impulsively purchasing a penthouse wouldn’t even scratch me financially. I didn’t sell my house in Crissida Cove, though. I loved it too much. It was my
home
. I just couldn’t live there until I was completely over Lovello. Which might be never.

Up high on the forty-fourth floor, my new penthouse was all glassy modern, lofty, luxurious, cold and unsoothing.

I was
still
alone.

And I was
still
in love.

None of the drastic changes that I’d made had reduced my pain. They merely intensified it. I’d gained one new friend, though. Trevillo.

Since the debacle at the restaurant, he checked up on me daily. Our conversations became longer and more comfortable with each visit. His companionship I appreciated, because I rarely saw much of Trudy anymore.

Her boss, ahem, Lovello, had been demanding more and more of her time on their new project, rendering her perpetually busy. Trudy voiced her belief that he was keeping her busy on purpose. Especially when my birthday had rolled around in October. He’d kept Trudy in, doing serious overtime. Trudy was my only friend and he knew it. Who would’ve thought that the godly Lovello had a vindictive streak?

I also had been overworking Tish. Because I’d been back and forth between here and L.A., shopping for a space to open a second branch of PSFC. More things to keep me busy would be curative, I told myself.

My birthday had found me alone at home, engaged in a long, financial lecture on the phone with my father. For my gift, he’d wired the amount I paid for my penthouse, telling me that I should consider the penthouse as a gift from him instead, and never to spend so ‘frivolously’ again. Saving me from the unwanted lecture was the intercom buzzer. A chirpy Trevillo had been on the other end, wishing me a happy birthday and ordering me to get dressed and get my ass downstairs.

Although I’d tried to object, he’d insisted. So I’d simply dragged on jeans and a T-shirt with my hair piled atop my head and went downstairs to meet him. Just like that, he’d thrown me into his car, whisked me off to his private jet and flown us to Las Vegas. Must I speak of how insane Halloween in Las Vegas is? That was one helluva weekend. It was the most fun I’d had since my break-up with Lovello.

Trevillo had brought his current bed partner and the two guys I’d seen him with at the club. Strangely enough, they didn’t even attempt to flirt with me. The guys were scorching number tens, enough to get me laid in my vulnerable state, but they’d never so much as blinked in my direction. Which made me wonder if I’d grown grotesque or something. The person who kept his eyes close on me was Trevillo. Paying very little attention to the woman he’d tagged along, he kept me right by his side at all times. It was obvious that he was trying to jolt me back to life, and I appreciated him for that. Even though I knew that he was laboring in vain. Because, for me, there was no life without Love. I could never go back to the woman I was before Love.

Love owned me.

But Love would never have me.

When I returned from Vegas, I’d slept for an entire day. And in the days that ensued, I’d hardly gotten any work done, because I’d keep falling asleep at the drop of a hat. Not to mention the sudden attacks of thoughts about
him
. There was no escaping. That Vegas trip had only been another temporary cure.

Pressing my right foot against the wall, I flipped over for another lap. Then I sensed someone watching me. Stopping in the center of the pool, I bobbed up my head, threading my arms and legs to keep me afloat.

Trevillo was standing by the edge of the pool, holding a bag of Chinese food and smiling at me. “You’re always swimming. You’ll wrinkle, Axia,” he chided.

“You need to stop strutting around my gym as if you own the damn place,” I said, before ducking back under the water and swimming the distance to the end. I made to climb out of the pool but, remembering my little secret, I sank back into the water. “Throw me my towel.”

Trevillo snatched my towel from the hook and handed it to me on a raised brow. Turning my back to him, I climbed out of the pool rather awkwardly and swiftly wrapped the towel around me. My secret was
mine.

I turned back around to see Trevillo smirking at me, his brow still raised. Then he shook his head and held up the food bag. “I brought lunch.”

“Great. I’m starving.”

“You must be. Knowing you, you haven’t been swimming for just twenty minutes.”

We went to sit on a long bench on the left of the room, and I impatiently grabbed the bag from Trevillo’s hand before he was even properly settled, asking “what’d you get?” while opening the food boxes.

“Your fave. Shrimp fried rice with extra soy and a serving of fried wontons…” He trailed off, seeing that I’d already discovered which was mine and started stuffing my mouth.

Forkful after forkful, I relished every bit of it, almost forgetting that Trevillo was there with me. When I heard him chuckling, I glanced up at him with stuffed cheeks. “What?”

“The way you
eat
, woman. That’s what.”

I waved him off and continued with my lunch.

Trevillo had become so cherished to me, and very quickly, too. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he’d been so nice to me, while all the other Nelsons detested me for ‘cheating’ on Lovello. He said he knew I never cheated on his brother. But
how
was he so sure?

We never, on any terms, discussed Lovello. Because I’d requested he steered clear of any topics pertaining to him. I already had to deal with the fact that he was his brother.

Avoiding topics about him wasn’t a matter for Trevillo, though. Because Lovello had been rancor towards him since that night. He’d apparently been pissed that Trevillo had run outside to talk to me. Trevillo found it hilarious that even through all that fiasco, Lovello was still being possessive.

Every bit of food got devoured from my food box and my stomach was full to capacity, but I still
felt
hungry. It was an annoying thing that had been happening to me of late. Sans permission, I dipped into Trevillo’s box and stole one of his spring rolls, to which he merely shook his head and laughed.

And then a wave of sleepiness passed over me all of a sudden. “Can I lay my head in your lap?”

Nodding, Trevillo packed up the food boxes and set them aside, making space for me to lie down. Curling up on the bench, I lowered my head onto his denim-clad thighs and closed my eyes. A second later, his fingers were stroking my damp hair, pushing me into sleep. His deep voice grabbed me back from sleep’s grasp, though. “Would you think of me as a freak if you didn’t know me and I ran into a crowded bar wearing nothing but rugged work boots?”

I giggled. “What?”

“You’d think of me as a freak, right? Because I’d be completely nude, my balls and flaccid cock just hanging there, in a bar crowded with people, yelling ‘get outta here, you perverted freak!’ When really, all I want is for someone to be kind enough to lend me a coat or something.”

“But why would you even be naked in the first place?”

“Because I’d been in a little scuffle with a whore.”

“Huh? A whore?”

“Yeah. I told her I wanted to buy pleasure from her, then I screwed her brains out and refused to pay her. So, she stole all my clothes and ran off.”

I burst out laughing. “Then, in that case, I think you got what you deserved. And yes, I’d think of you as a perverted freak. Why would you want someone to be kind to you when you weren’t kind to that poor whore?”

Trevillo sighed. “See how the world is?”

But he didn’t elaborate, he just carried on with his stupidities as he stroked my hair.

“Okay. Let’s say you’re standing in your house looking out of your window. It’s a normal, quiet day. And a normal delivery guy walks up to your neighbor’s door across the street to make a delivery. As he mounts their steps, sudden gunfire rings out. At this, the delivery guy tosses the package in the air and takes off at lightning speed down the street, running past his truck and feeling his body in the process, checking if he got shot. In that very moment, what would you be doing? Laughing at the delivery guy’s reaction, or calling the police about the strange gunfire?”