Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Sitting forward in my chair, I hit my fists on the desk. My scotch glass shakes, and the amber liquid inside swooshes toward the edge. It doesn’t spill, though it made its point. “It’s not my fault you fucked up your life.”
A heavy silence falls upon us. My brother’s face is unreadable as he coughs and then speaks. “This should have been mine.” His voice is lower and more somber than normal.
“Should have,” I stress, “but you fucked that up when you were banging hookers and snorting coke.” No need to mince words. My brother was a real fuckup.
“I was in mourning.”
Even fifteen years later, he still hasn’t learned. I shake my head at his ridiculous comment. “You act like she was your wife.”
“She could have been …” His eyes bore into mine. I can feel the pain in his words. She was never his.
But in his mind, she could have been. Should have been.
He’s loved her since we were children.
She was the daughter of my father’s colleague. We all assumed that one day they would marry and combine the families. And maybe that would have been the case, but fate had other plans.
He continues to stare at me, his unwavering gaze making me uncomfortable. The old scar that runs from his left brow down his cheek looks darker than normal. A stark reminder of all the ways I hurt my brother in the past. Pain and regret seep into my blood, making me want to take away his pain. It’s not an easy task, but emotions like this have their way of making me want to drink.
When I look at him, I still see the man who crumpled upon the news, who vanished into a shell from the loss he suffered. The loss he blames on me. He thinks her death is my fault, and maybe it is. I can still feel the heavy burden of guilt that sits on my shoulders. And if he’s right, and it is my fault, it’s made even worse because I’m also the asshole who stole his life.
“It wasn’t meant to be,” he repeats.
“It’s my business,” I remind him. Regardless of whether my actions brought us here, his inaction sealed the deal.
“Would it kill you just to stop?”
On a large exhale, I stare at the man who I once looked up to.
The man who helped me become who I am today. The clarity and resolution in his eyes haven’t been present for years. He looks like the brother I lost, and I realize what a fool I’ve been.
My anger from the years I lost with him has blinded me to the fact that he’s here now, and maybe he’s right. Maybe we could run this business together. It’s what my father was training us for before Grace.
“Sit.” I gesture to the chair across from me, and he doesn’t think twice before he takes a seat. Maybe this can be the beginning of something new. It always should have been two brothers working together. I reach for the glass to hand him one.
“What are you doing?” His deep brown eyes watch my every move.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m inviting you to have a drink with me.”
Dark eyebrows slant into a frown before he nods. Still uncomfortable, still waiting on my answer.
“You’re going,” I finally say, and he stares blankly at me. Knowing my brother, he probably doesn’t want to get his hopes up. “You will go in my place. You want in? This is what you have to do. No objections,” I say smoothly.
His expression freezes. “Are you serious?”
“It’s not the final meeting. It’s only a talk to go over details. But if you want to be active in this, you have to start somewhere.”
His face continues to be unreadable, but I expect little from him. I won’t tell him my plans until I’m sure he can handle it. But when the time comes, I’ll give Damian the keys back to his portion of the castle.
“To the end of an era.” I lift my glass to make a toast.
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” He smirks as he says his signature catchphrase that he stole from Plato, making me chuckle in response. I hadn’t realized I missed it until now.
“This is the beginning.”
“We shall see.” He rubs the back of his neck as he stands from his chair.
“Take my car. And pass along my apologies. Tell him something unavoidable came up.”
“Will do, brother.”
The word brother causes a stabbing pain to radiate inside me. It’s been too long since we’ve interacted like this.
As he walks out the door, he puts his phone to his ear. I’m not sure who he’s calling, but I lean back in my chair.
For the first time in a long time, things don’t seem so heavy.
1
Phoenix
Four years later …
My father paces the office.