On that, my brother pats me on the shoulder and walks away.
49
Eli
Sometimes you have to roll over and be somebody’s bitch.
Okay, maybe that’s a little melodramatic, even for me. But last night as I curled beneath warm sheets with the perfect woman in my arms, I finally resolved to shove down my pride and come run the family business with my brother.
I love getting my hands dirty; don’t get me wrong. But throwing myself into renovations hasn’t been enough. I need to get back to the office. I need to have my mind fucking busy with spreadsheets, presentations, client files. I need to challenge myself in ways that physical labor never has.
So, here I am, standing in front of Cannon’s sprawling desk, dressed in my ironed slacks and a crisp new shirt, hands shoved into my pockets to keep from jabbing anyone in the forehead with a fountain pen.
I can do this. I’ve been doing my daily meditation. I got an excellent blowjob this morning. I’m good.
“I want in,” I tell Cannon, forcing the words out of my mouth, silently hoping he won’t make me beg or apologize after the difficult shithead I’ve been.
A cheesy grin stretches across my brother’s face, and I nearly bite through my tongue to keep from telling him to knock that shit off. “You serious?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m serious.” I grit the words out.
“Fuck, yeah. Let’s get to work.” He springs to his feet and rounds his desk. He claps his palm into mine for an energetic handshake.
“Just to be clear,” I say warily, “I want to be partners, like you offered. None of this boss-employee crap. I don’t work well with…authority.”
He laughs. “I know, man. Frank’s already got the paperwork drawn up.”
Frank. Cannon’s lawyer.
“And about Frank…I-I didn’t know you were behind that. Dad told me you’re the one who sent him to look into my case. To navigate my early release.”
My brother gives a curt nod. “It was the right thing to do. It didn’t make sense to leave you out there to dry when I had the resources to help.”
I loosen my tie to clear my throat. “Thank you for that.”
“Of course, man.” He claps my shoulder in a manly hug and I get a flashback of the way things used to be, back when I wasn’t carrying around all this anger, I get a glimpse of what the future could be like if I let some of my resentment go.
“All right. Let’s get you in your office. I’m so behind on shit lately.” Cannon says with a laugh. “If it’s a heavy workload you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place, man.”
Cannon speedwalks down the hall, leading me to my old office. I don’t know where the hell that other guy went, but all traces of his shit are gone. I refuse to express how happy that makes me.
He calls in his secretary to help me get settled. A few junior executives come in next to get me up to speed. Cannon and I spend the afternoon working together. It turns out to be a long day, but honestly, it really isn’t that horrible. Cannon and I may butt heads most of the time, but I think it’s just because we’re too alike in some ways. It’s a shame we never worked together before now.
As the day is coming to an end, I poke my head back into Cannon’s office.
“Hey man.” When he looks up from his computer, I say, “There’s one last thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
He motions to a chair across from his desk. “What’s on your mind.”
“Douglas,” I say as I land in the seat.
Cannon’s brow knits. “You mean, Mr. Robson?” I nod and his frown goes deeper. “Uh, don’t call him that, man. He doesn’t let people call him that.”
“He doesn’t let you call him that. ‘Cause you made a shitty first impression,” I smirk. “What the hell were you thinking, bro?” Cannon made a shitshow of his first encounter with his father-in-law. The story is cringeworthy.
He drops his head and shakes it. “I’ve apologized to that man a million times.”
“Anyway, me and Douglas, we’re cool,” I say smugly.
My brother’s face falls. “Bastard…” he mutters ruefully.
“Anyway,” I say, reining in the conversation. “That man seriously needs help getting his shop open and we have resources to make it happen.”
“Of course we do,” Cannon says, a hint of frustration in his voice, “and I’ve been telling him that for months. Alexia has tried talking to him, too. But he’s as stubborn as a mule and he refuses to take any of our offers.”
I set my jaw. “Well, the time for ‘offers’ is done. It’s time to lay down the law. He’s getting our help whether he likes it or not. The man means too much to Jessa and I won’t stand by and watch him run himself into the ground with his stubbornness.”
Cannon grins. “Finally something we can both get onboard with.”
“I know right.” My brother bumps his fist into mine. Then we get down to work, devising a plan to provide Douglas with all the assistance he’ll need. Financial, logistical and advisory. The resources of both Kingston Realties as well as Cannon and Lexi’s non-profit will be at the man’s disposal to help make his dreams come true.
After a hard day’s work, I feel accomplished. I get home and walk through the door, dropping my briefcase by the coat rack.
“Daddy!” Callie shouts, running from the kitchen to greet me. Her arms wrap around my legs like vines and I melt. I pick up her little body and lift her into the air, swinging her above my head. Her giggles pour down on me like rain.
Jessa pokes her head around the corner to see what all the commotion is. She welcomes me home with a sweet smile. She’s in the kitchen, and whatever she’s been cooking, I could smell it as soon as I walked up the porch steps. When I stalk up to her at the stove and drop a kiss on her neck, she melts into my arms.
Damn, I could get used to this.
For the first time, in way too fucking long, I feel like a man.
Working all day. Being missed. Having a home cooked meal waiting for me. Coming home to my girls.
My girls.
Shit. I like the way that sounds. It feels so damn natural.
The only thing missing is Jessa’s body on mine, and if I have anything to say about it, I’m going to have that. Soon.
My stare lingers on her all throughout dinner, and she blushes the whole time. Hell. If I’m being honest, this sexual tension was always there, from the very first morning I laid eyes on her. I’ve just finally given up being a broody asshole, and now I can admit what I want. Her. A life with her. A family with the three of us here in this house.
Halfway through dinner, my phone vibrates in the front pocket of my slacks. Curious as to who the hell is interrupting my meal, I grab it.
It’s Rivers. My private investigator buddy.
I open up the text message he just sent me.
While I’m reading it, Callie knocks over her small glass of milk, and Jessa hops up to get her some more.
Rivers: Good news. Found your mystery woman. Call me in the morning.
My eyes drift to Jessa as she helps Callie with her dinner, cleaning up the mess, and finishing her own meal, all with a bright grin on her face.
She never gets upset, never complains. She’s sweet, loving, and unnaturally patient. All while being so fucking beautiful.
I don’t even have to think about it—I hit ‘delete’ on Rivers’ message and shove the phone back in my pocket.
I don’t want some stranger. I want Jessa.
50
Eli
Callie grins at her great-grandfather and chirps, “Gramps! Listen to this.” She nudges me off the piano bench with her little elbow. “Daddy, no helping this time,” she scolds.
Hands held up in surrender, I climb to my feet. I stand beside Jessa and we listen to the girl’s rendering of Happy Birthday to You.
My grandfather’s eyes glitter as he reclines in his armchair and claps along.
Ma watches Callie proudly and she begi
ns singing the lyrics to the birthday song. Walker sings along too, taking the notes of the song to places they were never meant to go. Wincing and plugging our ears, the rest of us join in.
When the song comes to a close, Dad gives Callie a tight hug. “Great job, Bug. I’m so proud of you."
Beaming off of my father’s praise, Callie stands and takes a bow as the rest of us applaud and cheer.
It’s Gramps’s 90th birthday and the family has gathered in the rec room of the nursing home to celebrate. Mom and Dad are here with Jude, Iris, Penny, Walker and the twins. Cannon and Alexia should be here any minute now but they’re running late since my brother had a meeting with Douglas this morning to talk business strategy for the Robson’s repair shop. Anyway, we all feel blessed that Gramps is having another one of his good days and he seems to be coherent for the most part, although he still struggles with his thoughts from time to time.
A nurse’s assistant comes in with a cake and sets it on the table in front of my grandfather. Mom rests a hand on his shoulder. “Make a wish, Dad,” she coaxes, gesturing toward the candles sitting atop the small chocolate cake.
The old man glances around the room, his eyes narrowed as they sweep over his family. “I wish you damn people would stop singing!” he declares. He points a finger at Walker. “Especially you.”
We all go up in laughter. Cake slices get handed around the room. Jessa wanders over to speak with Penny and Iris. Somehow, I end up standing next to Walker and Jude. But even from across the room, my girlfriend and I can’t stop grinning at each other.
“So you and Jessa are getting serious, huh?” My little brother looks to me for an answer.
“What’s it to you?” One corner of my mouth hooks into a grin. I’m acting all mysterious and aloof.
My brothers start giving me shit. Apparently I’m blushing and they think it’s hilarious. I take it all in stride. I don’t give a fuck what they say. I’m gainfully-employed, well-rested and sexually-satisfied. Plus, I’m winning at parenthood. So, let them talk shit.
Our conversation is interrupted when Gramps taps Jude on the thigh to get his attention. The old man squints. “Aren’t there supposed to be four of you? W-where’s that other one?” He brings up his shaky hand to gesture to his head. “The one with the girly hair?”
My brothers and I snort back laughter.
“You mean Cannon?” Jude asks with a grin.
Gramps shrugs and blinks, looking a bit confused. “I guess…”
With a nod, Jude pulls out his phone. “Let me send him a message to find out where he is.”
This is huge. This is huge.
I know that Alzheimer’s can’t be reversed. The scientific community hasn’t found a cure. But I can’t help it—these occasional glimpses of our grandfather, especially on an important day like today, makes me unreasonably optimistic.
I can’t stop smiling. Yup—it’s a good day. And these good days are starting to become a regular occurrence in my life.
51
Eli
Looks like Walker finally got his wish. The rain has been relentless since last night. Normally, I don’t mind it. It’s good for the family farm and it makes river boating a bit more adventurous.
But today, it’s wreaking havoc on the house. This time, the damage is far worse than the last time it rained. And it’s making me late for work.
I already called Cannon and explained the situation. He said he’d cut me a little slack today, and thank god, because with a kid in the house, I’m not about to let a little water turn into a big, moldy fucking problem next week.
The girls are outside playing in the downpour, and decked out in raincoats and brightly colored boots, jumping in mud puddles. They’re pretty damn cute, if you ask me.
Yeah, I said it—cute. I’m not scared of the word anymore.
Anyway, I’m scouring every inch of the house, trying to assess the damage. What started as a small but important project the minute I rolled out of bed has turned into an exhausting mess. I have an old sump pump running in the basement, sucking out the two inches of water that seeped through the egress windows. Now I’m in the kitchen, mopping up the rain behind the stove.
This is crap.
I can’t say I’m surprised, though. And after a couple of perfect days with Callie, and some hot as fuck nights in Jessa’s bed, I guess I’m due for a disaster or two. I can’t have it all, now can I?
Still, it’s stressful. I have a finance project I’m working on at the office, and I’m under pressure to get it out on time. I hold myself to the same high standards as I do everyone else, so when I say I’m going to have something done, I get that shit done. I see some late work nights in my near future, making up for the lost time today.
And that just means less quality time with my daughter and my girlfriend. So yeah, I’m in a funk right now.
I spend another hour on the main floor of the house, shoving furniture around, mopping up any sitting water, and making note of potential long-term damage. Rinse and repeat.
I get through Callie’s room, grateful that everything looks clean and dry. Ensuring that my baby’s room is safe is crucial, so that’s a relief. That good feeling plummets when I see a small leak coming from the main bathroom. Fixing cracks in the foundation is one thing, but if this place needs a whole new roof, that’s going to put a big dent in my cash flow.
To my dismay, I find that the bathroom leak continues into Jessa’s room, staining the ceiling and already leaving a wet, dark trail down the wall. Letting out an audible groan, I slide the heavy nightstand to the side to get a better view of the damage.
When I do, a stack of papers slide out the back of the bottom drawer and land on the floor.
“Dammit.” I bend down to collect them.
The crooked slopes of the slanted handwriting catch my eye. The writing…it’s...familiar.
I pick up the slip of paper, blinking in confusion. It’s familiar because it’s my own.
I set it aside, assuming that it’s just some of my old shit that I inadvertently left behind when I gave Jessa the room. But when I move the nightstand again, even more sheets of paper fall out. My eyes trail over the frigging portfolio spread across the floor.
It’s all me.
Statements. Court documents. Banking information. Data from the family company. Everything a person could want to know about me, my life, and my company from the past few years.
But what nearly makes me fall flat on my ass? The letters. Each one handwritten by me to the woman I was communicating with while I was in prison. The woman I decided to cast aside when I started to fall for Jessa.
Monica...
I skim through each letter, absolutely dumbfounded. Why would Jessa have all of this? How did she get her hands on them? Why would she possess each and every letter I penned to another woman?
Unless…
No…No way…
My mind replays every conversation I’ve ever had with the nanny, searching for clues, trying to make sense of it all.
Past the deafening white noise playing inside my head, I hear the front door open and bang shut again. I hear Callie giggling as she runs through the house, calling for me. I hear Jessa laughing right along with her, telling her to take off her raincoat so she doesn’t trail a wet mess across the now-dry floor.
I can’t move.
The rage that’s building inside me is all too familiar. Once again, I’ve been betrayed. Betrayed by a woman I’m in love with. Betrayed by a woman who used my daughter to get close to me.
The words of Gramps’s favorite book blare in my head. To know who will betray you most devastatingly, look to the one you trust most ardently.
I cannot fucking move.
Footsteps sound in the hallway, drawing closer until they enter the bedroom. I remain crouched on the floor, clutching my intimate letters in two angry fists.
The moment she enters the room, I feel her in here. I’d feel her anywhere. I feel her watching me, and i
t takes every last bit of strength to lift my head and meet her eyes.
Her wide, beautiful, deceitful eyes.
Those eyes tell me everything I need to know.
52
Jessa
We get in from the rain, shivering and dripping wet. I suggest some hot cocoa and storybooks in front of the fireplace but Callie wants to surprise her father with a messy, wet bear hug first. It was all her idea. I agreed to go along with it since I’m a sucker for Eli’s big booming laugh and the way his eyes twinkle with mirth each time we pull a prank on him. I’m in love with the playful energy around the house. It’s just happy. It feels like a home.
I know he’s running late for work, dealing with some leaky spots throughout the house. I’d wanted to stay inside and help him clean up the mess, but he said it would be a bigger help to get Callie outdoors, so he could get finished and off to work faster.
He wasn't in the living room or the kitchen when we burst through the front door, so Callie and I decided to split up to tag team against him. Divide and conquer. She’s searching for him in the basement while I head off toward the bedrooms.
Several man-sized wet footprints lead a path down the hallway. The door to my room is standing wide open.
I pause just outside. I know that Callie was hoping to be the one to locate her daddy first but I can’t resist my anticipation to catch Eli, to hold him in my own soggy embrace and feel his body heat radiating through my damp clothes. Sorry, Cal.
The sky is dense with heavy clouds, hiding the sun and darkening the bedroom. Only my twinkling string lights offer illumination in the cozy space. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and focus on Eli. There he is. My pulse quickens. A grin teases my lips, but it falls just as quickly when I take in exactly what is happening.
Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 25
