Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love (5 page)

“It’s my life to end. I know you’re trying to help me, and you can do that by getting
the hell out of it,” he snapped.

“Not gonna happen.” Xander shook his head.

His temper surged. “What the hell? You can’t force me to stay here.”

“I think I am. Because what you’re doing now, burying all your stress and grief and
letting it eat you up inside, is destroying you.”

Javier hated to admit that his brother was right. And if he risked getting the press
involved in his personal struggles, S.I. Industries would crash fast. He owed more
to the board of directors, the hardworking employees, and his parents, God rest them.

“Fine. I’ll stay,” he growled. “So . . . you think you’re my life coach now? Or are
you trying to be my Dom?”

Tara and Kata both snickered at that. Xander cut the redhead a stare of displeasure
that didn’t faze her in the least. With a sigh, he faced Javier.

“I’ll be whatever you need, do whatever you need, until you’re able to pick up and
move on. But I draw the line at spanking you.”

At his brother’s teasing, more anger spread through him, but it was tempered by a
grudging acceptance. Xander meant well, even if his methods thoroughly annoyed Javier.
“Fuck off.”

“You’ve said that before. Didn’t work. I’m also giving you six weeks to start turning
the business around. You’ve shown up every day, even the day of Francesca’s funeral.
I give you a lot of credit for that. But you’re not focused. It’s time to start making
good decisions again. Want help? I’ll work hand-in-hand with you to rebuild the business.”

Though Xander was extending the olive branch, Javier couldn’t make himself take it.
He had to stand on his own two feet. If he fell, he couldn’t take Xander with him.
Besides, his pride rankled. He was already being forced to stay in this little town
against his will. Javier liked things he could control, and the business was one of
them. His father had entrusted him with his legacy. He’d gotten S.I. Industries into
trouble. He would dig it out. After all, what did Xander know about running a high-tech
conglomerate?

“I’ll take care of S.I. Industries. I always have.”

His little brother shrugged, then tossed a set of keys across the table. “These open
your new offices. I’ll take you over there in a bit. It’s not much, but the best I
could do on short notice. It’s not furnished, but most of what you need will be delivered
tomorrow. I called back to the offices in L.A. to have your assistant transfer your
work here. She quit. Friday was her last day.”

And he’d drunk his way through it.
Fuck.

Javier sighed heavily, shoulders sagging. Janice had been his fourth executive assistant
in the last ten months. “I’ll call Henner and get him to send whatever we need.”

“After all, what are VPs and right hands for?” Xander quipped.

No way he could miss the jibe there. Javier shook his head. For years, Xander had
wanted nothing to do with the business except to cash the checks that came his way
so he could buy new cars and pretty trinkets for his whores. Xander’s sudden interest
in the business wouldn’t last.

“Exactly,” he bit back.

Xander had dragged him to this pissant town, forced him to change his whole life for
six weeks, then shoved him into this power struggle. And wanted him to . . . what?
Be happy? Trust him as a business advisor? Not get angry?

He turned to Kata. “It looks like I’ll be pressing on your hospitality a bit longer.
Would you mind very much if I had a shower before I go to my new offices?”

Kata shook her head and led him to the bathroom, fetching him a clean towel. “He really
does want what’s best for you.”

Javier smiled, but it was hollow and false. If his brother had wanted what was best
for him, he would have said yes a year ago to helping him with Francesca. If this
latest scheme of Xander’s was his way of helping, Javier wanted nothing to do with
it—or him.

Chapter Three

A week later

X
ANDER
groaned as the light shafted through the window of his bedroom in the rented house.
He grimaced and tried to open his eyes, peering through the slits at the dark, heavy
beams crisscrossing the white ceiling. He’d been too busy last night to close the
shutters or pull the thick drapes. And the reason for his haste curled up against
his side, her long hair draped over his chest in mahogany tangles, her ass pressing
into his hip.

Megan, he vaguely recalled, but who knew for sure? This wasn’t the only time this
week he’d picked women up and spent all night trying to lose himself inside them.
Their names and faces were running together.

Something tugged on his rigid cock, and he frowned at the woman beside him. Both of
Megan’s hands were tucked under her face, so Xander lifted the sheet to see what the
hell had him by the balls���literally. A pretty face with smeared mascara and swollen
lips peeked up, her red hair mussed, her green eyes dancing with mischief as she lowered
her tongue to the head of his stiff shaft. Shelby? Yeah, that sounded right.

The memories of last night rushed back to him. A smoky, loud nightclub. Three friends,
one who’d just broken up with her boyfriend after two terrible years. Xander had been
amused to pick up a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead all at once. They’d been a good
way to not think about all the other shit in his life. But this morning . . . all
the shit in his life was still there. Unfortunately, so were the women.

With a sigh, he shoved his fingers into Shelby’s hair and pulled, lifting her mouth
from his cock and sending her a disapproving glare. He had to pee, yes, but mostly
he just wasn’t feeling it. What had seemed so entertaining last night just annoyed
him now. He was thirty fucking years old. How long was he going to behave as if life
was an eternal party? Then again, it wasn’t as if Javier was going to suddenly welcome
him into the business with open arms and give his life purpose.

“Where’s . . .” What the hell was her name, the blonde with the ex-boyfriend? “Alexis?”

Shelby frowned. “She had an early shift this morning. Don’t you remember fucking her
good-bye?”

Now that she mentioned it, his groggy brain served up the memory. In fact, everything
was beginning to come back to him.

Last night when they’d first hit the bedroom, he’d stripped Alexis down and sunk directly
into her pussy. Shelby had kindly undressed herself and shoved her doctor-given C-cups
in his face. He’d sucked her nipples as he surged into Alexis again and again. For
a girl with a boyfriend, she’d sure been sex starved.

Three noisy orgasms later, he’d finished with Alexis, and Shelby had been beyond ready.
A few tugs on his cock and a fresh condom, and he’d been ready to go. Megan had been
watching all the while, fingering herself. By the time he’d gotten to her, he’d let
her suck him softly in the shower so he could glove up again, then given her a ride
for a good, long hour. Shelby and Alexis had taken care of one another while they’d
watched. Then he’d done round two with Alexis this morning before she dashed off at
o’ dark hundred.

Now that he remembered, Xander wished he could fucking forget.

Rolling out of the bed, he left a disgruntled Shelby and a slumbering Megan behind.
With a glance back, he grimaced. He’d enjoyed the decadence last night. But now, with
morning breath and sticky sheets? Not so much.

“I’ve got someplace to be shortly, ladies,” he lied. “Help yourself to whatever is
in the refrigerator. Thank you for spending the night with me. I’m sure you can find
the way out.”

After a long shower, he emerged, gratified to see that the girls had grabbed their
things and departed—mostly. The little pair of green lace panties on his pillow made
him sigh aloud. As he wandered over, Xander could see that Megan had helpfully safety
pinned a note to them with her name and phone number.

Just what he didn’t want. With a thumb and forefinger, he plucked the thong off his
pillow and tossed it in the trash, then washed his hands. As he dressed for the day,
he rang for the maid and asked her to change his sheets again. The older woman raised
a brow, but wisely said nothing. He didn’t need more regret. He already had plenty.

Grabbing his keys, he dashed out the door, climbing into his Audi and heading to the
temporary offices he’d found for S.I. Industries. Javier wouldn’t want him here, but
that was too damn bad. If his brother had taken a single step to self-improvement
in the last week, it had been a tiny one.

The sunlight blinded Xander as he climbed out of his car and emerged into the oppressive
morning heat. He raced inside to the blessed air-conditioning, then spotted the frowning
redhead at the reception desk, juggling a beautiful baby on her lap. The interior
door to Javier’s office was closed.

“Is he any better today?” Xander murmured quietly.

Morgan Cole had been kind enough to stop in for a few hours each morning, her infant
son in tow, and help Javier with some administrative work. In return, his brother
had already bought her a new top-of-the-line SUV.

“Javier?” She glanced up from the fussing baby in her lap and whispered, “Maybe a
little. He didn’t break out a bottle until eleven this morning. It’s progress.”

Was it really? Javier would still be sauced by the end of the lunch hour. Fuck. His
brother slaved over his desk nearly every day until the wee hours of the morning.
In fairness, he’d greeted Tyler every morning for a run and some weight lifting, then
met with Morgan for yoga before coming here. Between nine and ten in the morning,
everyone said that Javier looked really centered. Functional. By noon, he was stressed,
wasted, and lashing out.

Xander clawed a hand through his hair, trying to smile. “Thanks. And your son?”

Morgan shook her head as the baby started to fuss. “I hate to do this, but I need
to take Brice home. His fever has returned.”

That wasn’t good news. The baby needed care, but having no administrative support/babysitter,
even for a few days, would put Javier further behind, send him deeper into stress—and
a bottle. Xander wished like hell Javier would accept his help but . . . he knew he
couldn’t push his brother anymore or he’d snap.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he assured Morgan. “Do what you need to do. Family first.”

With an apologetic smile, she rose and gathered her things. “I’ll call around and
see if I can find someone who can be here for your brother. I’m not going to let him
drown.”

It wasn’t Morgan’s problem, and she didn’t have to care, but Xander was grateful that
she did. “Thank you.”

At the door, she cradled the baby against her and paused. “I know you’re worried and
things between you two haven’t been easy, but give Javier time. He’s got some demons
and he won’t let them loose. He’ll have to eventually. Maybe he’s just not ready yet.”

S.I. Industries didn’t have months for Javier to “find himself” again. He’d been reading
business blogs and the
Wall Street Journal
. Scuttlebutt was that unless its research and development teams started showing Uncle
Sam something new and snazzy soon, the government would start doing all its business
with other manufacturers, like current darling United Velocity. And if it didn’t have
the cash flow to prototype and build cool new military gadgets, S.I. Industries would
be history.

Xander chomped at the bit to jump in, his brother’s wishes be damned, and help out.
But it would only drive a bigger wedge between them. Javier was more important to
him than the business. But if Javier lost his birthright, it would devastate him and
probably put the final nail in his coffin. Even as a kid, his brother hadn’t taken
failure well. Javier was a born leader, and his desire and aptitude to engage in teamwork
had never been stellar. As an adult, nothing had changed.

“I’ve been trying to find the crash method to get him back into his head and caring
about his life. We’re running out of time.”

“You’ve done a lot of the right things, even if it’s tough love.” She cocked her head
as she gently bounced the whimpering baby. “Jack thinks he needs something to focus
on or something to care about besides business.”

“That bottle of Cîroc isn’t going to do it,” he snapped.

“But the bottle doesn’t have expectations or judge him. He doesn’t have to feel guilt
or anger or whatever’s eating him up with vodka. Did he grieve for his wife?”

Xander didn’t have the answer to that question. Francesca’s body had been found while
he’d been ass deep in the sting that he’d helped Tyler orchestrate to bring down Los
Angeles’ crooked assistant district attorney. The press had been swarming. Xander
had done his best to leave his brother alone and draw the pesky reporters, along with
the limelight, away from Javier. The brother he’d known before Francesca’s death had
always been serious, focused, short-tempered, and driven. But he hadn’t been an angry
drunk.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” It shamed him to admit that. “But it’s been a year.”

“There’s no limit to the amount of time it takes to grieve. Jack’s
grandpère
passed away two days after Brice’s birth, almost nine months ago. I still see the
sadness on Jack’s face from time to time. He didn’t forget the man he loved, but he’s
slowly laying him to rest. Maybe Javier just isn’t there with Francesca’s memory yet.
He must have loved her very much.”

“Not at all, actually.”

Morgan winced, then softened as she glimpsed the baby sleeping listlessly in her arms.
“Has he ever been in love? Really in love?”

“I don’t know. Until he married Francesca, I’d never seen him prefer one woman over
another. And even then . . .” Xander frowned, ashamed to realize that he actually
knew very little about his brother’s personal life. Five years’ difference in age
hadn’t always made them miles apart, but lately, it certainly hadn’t helped. “I don’t
know if he’s capable of the devotion you’re talking about.”

“Were your parents affectionate?”

Xander snorted. “Sure. Dad loved bending his assistants over his desk, and Mom loved
Nordstrom.”

Morgan’s face was full of pity, and Xander wished to hell he’d kept his mouth shut.
“So his experiences with love haven’t been great, it sounds like. I hate to sound
like Dr. Phil, but maybe Jack is right and Javier needs something to care about. Or
someone.”

As much as Xander hated it, the theory had validity. Javier needed something to fight
for. He carried on as if he had no outlet in life except business and a bottle. Neither
could make him feel truly valued. He couldn’t invest his heart in either one. But
if he had a reason to care, a reason to live, how much would that improve his outlook?
At the very least, Javier’s mood might improve with a good fuck. As far as Xander
knew, his brother hadn’t taken anyone to bed in over a year. No wonder his mood sucked.

Mentally he flipped through all the women he knew. Francesca had been tall, thin,
exotic, and dark. Xander knew more than a few of that type. Problem was, they would
look at Javier with dollar signs in their eyes, not as a man who needed a little TLC
to start healing.

“Any ideas where I could find this someone to care about him? I need her quick.”

Morgan raised a fiery brow. “If you’re going to be in a hurry, maybe he’s better off
with a dog. I didn’t say Javier needs just anyone. He needs someone special.”

Yeah. Did that exist? Xander had been sampling females for years. Other than his buddies’
wives, all great women he admired for more than their beauty, he’d never met one he’d
want to keep forever, much less one who could be his brother’s savior.

Javier opened the door to his interior office, holding the bottle of vodka by its
neck. He glanced at Morgan with concern, ignoring Xander altogether. “The baby still
feverish?”

She nodded, regret molding her expression. “Yes. I’ll see if I can find someone else
to help you out. I’ll call and let you know.”

Though Javier desperately needed things typed, organized, and read, and Morgan had
volunteered while her cable TV show was on a brief hiatus, he showed no displeasure
for the disruption of her duties or the change in his own workload.

“Take care of that pretty baby.” Javier smiled benignly.

The bottle wasn’t quite half gone. Maybe his brother was still capable of a reasonable
conversation. Maybe they could discuss what was lacking in Javier’s life and he could
help fix it. Fuck, he was allergic to emotion. His trying to fix his brother was a
joke, but someone had to.

“Thank you.” Morgan gathered the rest of her things and headed out to her car, kissing
the baby’s little head, dusted with dark hair like his daddy.

Xander wondered what it would be like to love someone enough to want to put a ring
on her finger and plant a seed in her womb. He shrugged. Not that it mattered. He
didn’t see that happening, ever.

Javier watched Morgan, too. His expression held a gravity, a sadness . . . longing.
Not for Morgan herself, but what she represented. Home, hearth, love, devotion. Forever.

And maybe, Xander mused, he needed to get laid again. Or fuck someone more interesting.
That wouldn’t make his problems go away, but it damn sure would help him forget for
a while.

As soon as Morgan drove off, Javier turned to him. With a narrow-eyed glare that dared
him to object, he took a long draw from the bottle of Cîroc.

“Eat anything before you started drinking?” Xander asked.

“Fuck off.”

“I can tell that vodka is helping you make great decisions.”

Javier glared. “Fuck off.”

“Has your vocabulary been reduced to two words now?”

“No. Please fuck off.”

They were getting nowhere, and Javier was hating him more every day. Xander would
put up with his brother’s enmity for the rest of their lives and be the fucking scapegoat,
but only if Javier came back. Xander was taking a huge gamble with the last of his
family, and he hoped the plan didn’t blow up in his face.