Never to Love (3 page)

The two charity events we’d attended in Vegas went off without a hitch. Security was tight, Marina and Tate were both their usual effervescent selves, and best of all, there had been no sign of Thomas. After Tate’s cryptic warning, I was even more determined to stay the fuck away. It’s not like I expected to run into him walking down the Strip, but so far things with him hadn’t gone as planned.

Following our three-day stint in Sin City, we hopped on a plane to Seattle for an appearance at a fundraiser for teens who lived on the streets after coming out to their parents. After attending the event, we slept about two hours and then woke up at three in the freaking morning to head out for a guest spot on a local morning show.

Since the strange conversation I had with Tate the night I met Thomas, I hadn’t noticed anything off about him and he hadn’t said another word about it. That all changed on the flight back to LA, which we’d caught right after they wrapped the early morning segment in Seattle.

After being given the “all clear” to move about the cabin of the private jet, I made my way toward the aft lavatory to check out the damage sleep deprivation and a hectic schedule had caused.

Crazy hair—check.

Dark under-eye circles—check.

Not giving a fuck about either—check.

I’d be okay until tonight. All I needed was more caffeine. I’d skip the late night news and talk shows—my agency had people watching them anyway—and go to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Since I was already up, instead of bothering the flight attendant, I decided to go to the galley to grab a cup of coffee.

On the way toward the front, I stopped by my seat to grab the turbulence-safe travel mug from my carry-on. No matter how safe flight attendants made it seem to have open containers on planes, I’d learned the hard way that wasn’t always the case. Once burned, twice you’re a moron—or however the expression went. Chuckling to myself, I realized the idiom applied to both a lap full of hot coffee and spending more than one night with a pussy full of a guy’s hot dick.

Dammit, why did I have to think about hot dick?

Stupid Thomas and his stupidly talented cock. Maybe it was the seed of mystery Tate had planted in my mind that forced his stupid face back into my conscious thoughts. Since that night, not once had I thought about his stupidly tight ass. I swear.

Finding Marina chatting with the flight attendant, I grabbed the mug and finished making my way toward the front of the aircraft. Just before turning the corner into the alcove, the sound of a hushed voice stopped me cold.

“I know that was the plan, but it wasn’t the right time.” The ensuing pause told me Tate was on the phone. “Trust me, it’ll be better coming from you. Please call her.”

A long sigh and the clatter of something hitting the metal counter indicated Tate had ended the call. Since everyone else had their back toward me and wouldn’t notice my strange actions, I took a few steps in reverse and began my second approach at regular speed. This time, I made enough noise to alert Tate of my impending arrival.

“Hey,” I said casually when he came into view. As if I hadn’t been eavesdropping, I moved past him in the small space, reaching for the liquid goodness. “Want some?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.” Rubbing both hands through his freshly cut hair, Tate asked, “How much of that did you hear?”

Shit. Busted. “What are you talking about?”

“C’mon. Your poker face is spectacular when there’s a camera or microphone shoved in front of it, but after all these years, I know your tells.”

“What tells?” If I had any, I needed to fix them immediately.

“Good try. Now answer my question.”

“Don’t worry, I only caught the end.”

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he nodded. “Let’s get back out there.” With a cadence reminiscent of a magician at a children’s birthday party, he added, “Everything will be revealed soon enough.”

I heard Marina before I saw her, but didn’t pick up on any other voices. When I noticed she was on her cell—FAA regulations be damned—I realized whomever Tate had been speaking with hadn’t wasted any time calling the other half of Hollywood’s dynamic duo.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!” Marina’s squeal was full of gleeful disbelief. “Tell me everything!”

I took my spot across from her and watched as she flitted around in her seat until Tate handed her a pen and small pad of paper.

Her smile grew until it overtook nearly her entire face as she wrote down every word the person on the other end of the line told her. After professing her undying love and gratitude to the caller, she tossed her phone in the open carry-on by her feet and flung herself into Tate’s arms.

“Jack found him.” Marina pulled back and met Tate’s loving gaze. “Jack found my brother!”

I thought Jack, the private investigator we kept on retainer, and I had an understanding. As her publicist, I should be made aware of something this huge. I knew a while back she’d learned of a theoretical brother, who may or may not have existed, but why would Jack tell Tate he found him and not drop even the slightest hint my way? For that matter, why would he tell Tate about Marina’s brother before telling Marina?

Wait a minute. Brother?

After a quick mental recap of Tate’s warning, the brick resembling my mother’s meatloaf came back for an encore as the truth behind the “complicated situation” slapped me in the face.

Nauseated, I couldn’t voice the thought that was playing on a loop in my mind. Please don’t let Thomas be Marina’s brother. Please don’t let Thomas be Marina’s brother.

Tate caught my eye, silently pleading with me. Maybe he didn’t want her to know I’d fucked someone who shared her DNA. Or maybe he didn’t want Marina to know her brother was a man-whore. I wasn’t sure why he would think I would tell her either of those things after swearing him to secrecy.

Shit, I was going to be sick.

Thomas

Three days in Vegas surrounded by hundreds of gorgeous, half-naked women, and I still couldn’t talk Finn out of marrying the biggest mistake of his life.

“You don’t get it. She is literally the spawn of Satan,” I said to my youngest brother on the flight from Nevada to Indiana for his funeral—oops, I mean wedding.

“No, she’s not,” he replied. “And you need to learn the meaning of the word ‘literally’ if you’re going to use it.”

“He’s right, Thomas,” Sawyer said from his seat on the other side of Finn. “Kristy is figuratively the spawn of Satan. However, she is literally the absolute worst human being I’ve ever met.”

“Tell me again why you’re marrying her? Oh, and this time, try to make it believable.”

“You don’t believe in it, so you’ll never believe me when I tell you I’m in love. Please just let it go. It’s bad enough you’ve brainwashed Sawyer.”

“You’re right, love is a huge pile of horseshit, and I am one of the lucky people who have figured it out. Even so, I’d be able to tolerate you marrying someone who wasn’t one phone call away from a spot in the
Guinness Book
as the vilest person ever to live.” As it always did when I broached the subject of his impending demise, his face reddened and scrunched up in anger. “How do you expect me to believe you love her when you don’t really believe it yourself?”

“He didn’t brainwash me,” Sawyer argued. “Have you paid any attention at all to what Natalie has put him through over the years? Have I not told you Kristy has been trying to get me to fuck her since the day we met?”

“Shut up. Both of you.” With that, Finn shoved his way past Sawyer, and a few minutes later, our dad took the seat between us.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Dad said, breaking the silent frustration. “But we can’t stop him. All we can do is be there for him so he’ll feel comfortable enough to come to us for support when his ‘relationship’ finally goes in the crapper where it belongs.”

Well said, Dad. Well said.

*

Sawyer and I stood by Finn’s side as he pledged his undying love to the embodiment of pure evil, but only in case he came to his senses at the last minute and needed a getaway driver. We argued over who would rush him to the car and who would tackle the raging lunatic he left at the altar—we both wanted a chance to take her down—but in the end, we decided to play it by ear. To be safe, we made sure the tanks of both rental cars were completely full.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get the opportunity to find out who would get to go all Urlacher on Kristy’s ass and who would be hauling Finn’s to Indianapolis International Airport. On second thought, making a break for the Canadian border might’ve been safer. I doubt they issued passports to demons.

My only consolation came in the form of a couple of easy bridesmaids. My new whore-in-law had to have told them we were loaded. In her eyes, Finn’s wallet was his most attractive quality. Much to the sluts’ dismay, there was no fucking way either of them would get within ten feet of my AmEx. I kept that bad boy securely locked away in the room safe while I fucked the hell out of them.

It took a while, but I eventually blew my load. I couldn’t say the same for them with any certainty. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t—I wasn’t paying attention.

Who was I kidding? Of course they did. Thomas Junior, or T.J. for short, could make a frigid chick come without breaking a sweat.

The sun was already rising by the time I sent the first one on her walk of shame. I kept the second one around a little bit longer to see if she could wake up my dick for round two, but after twenty minutes of sucking on it with her unskilled mouth, I sent her on her way as well. Might have worked if I hadn’t been wearing a condom, but since she was either a friend or relative of Lord Volde-whore, I wasn’t letting her anywhere near my dick without one.

I bet Juli’s mouth would have made me spew like a fire hydrant in under two minutes flat. Unfortunately, I fucked that all to hell before I had a chance to find out. I’d already planned my next turn, which included a sixty-nine at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Of course, I had put my foot in my mouth before I could put my dick in hers.

Based on the way my cock behaved while in the mouth of the substitute redhead, I’d have to stick to blondes and brunettes from now on. Whatever it was about Juli that got my dick hard with a single thought was now moot. Even if I were the kind of man to pursue a woman for more than a fuck or two, or maybe eight or nine in Juli’s case, I didn’t know her last name. I knew for a fact the concept of romantic love was a stupid myth, so there was no way in hell I believed in nauseating bullshit like serendipity or fate.

Deciding I’d just have to fuck away the memories of how she worked my cock as if she owned the patent on orgasms, I took a shower and packed my bags. I hadn’t slept yet, but that was what long plane rides were for.

I’d failed my mission of saving Finn’s soul. Since he’d already left for his vomit-inducing honeymoon, nothing was keeping me in Nowhere, Indiana. After grabbing my wallet from the safe, I stopped by my parents’ room to say goodbye.

Thanks to thin walls and adjoining rooms, I knew Sawyer had mercilessly plowed some chick the night before, filling me with brotherly pride. Since he was taking a later flight and didn’t need to leave for the airport for a few more hours, I decided not to interrupt his much-needed sleep.

*

With Finn away on his Hellymoon with Lucifette, I found myself working even longer hours than usual. Not only did his absence rub in my face the fact I’d failed him, but it also kept me from catching up on the backlog of pussy I had waiting for me when I got back.

When Finn turned eighteen and received his inheritance from our great-grandfather, we decided to go into business together. Bill Davis, a long-time family friend, had been building a new five-star hotel to add to his portfolio. About three-quarters of the way through, he ran into financial problems and looked to unload it as quickly as possible.

Finn and I pooled our inheritances, which was enough to buy the land and partially-completed building at cost. Speed was more important to Bill than profit at the time. Using our new assets as collateral, we were able to get a business loan to cover the remaining expenses to finish the construction and get the place up and running.