Public (Private Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  Our eyes lock, and I helplessly smirk at the compliment.

  “You’re a very weird woman,” Evie sighs at the same time I press our lips together.

  She is strange. And beautiful. And powerful. And much more forgiving than what I deserve. We’ve spent the last couple of days in this unfamiliar realm of constant sex and communicating. Despite the work debacle, she took time off to give me the same dedication to fixing this that I gave to her. She made it abundantly clear what she expects from me and what is completely unacceptable. In return, I expressed the fears I have of not being good enough for our child, her, or the family I have left. We exchanged what we want for “Little Thing” growing inside of her, as well as agreeing on a much more open approach to shit that bothers us. Like the way she feels I don’t trust her around other men. Or the way I hate I feel like I have to compete with Calen for attention. We still have some shit to wade through, but I’m relieved we’re doing it together.

  “Save something for the cameras,” Evie scolds on her way over to us. After a brief look of contemplation, she instructs, “Lose the tie. It’s too much. Delivers a powerful dickhead message rather than the compassionate big brother vibe we’re trying to establish.”

  Hearing the word ignites a familiar craving.

  Just a shot of whiskey would calm my nerves. Make all of this easier to swallow. Wash away the animosity I’m still harboring for my deceased father and my soul sucking sister.

  There’s no excuse for the hell she has put my relationship through. Hating me, I can understand, but using my fiancée’s best friend to collect leverage was beyond out of line. She harmed innocent people in her pilgrimage for retribution. People whose only crime was being in proximity to me. For that she will apologize whether she realizes it or not.

  Another craving for the dark colored liquid invades my senses, and I grind my teeth to fight through it.

  “You okay?” Brynley cautiously questions.

  I toy with the idea of hiding it from her, not wanting her to view me as weak, but I resist the instinct. I can’t lock her out. I swore I wouldn’t. Not even if I think it would spare her stress. “Having a craving. It’ll pass.”

  Her hand gives my thigh a soft stroke at the same time she teases, “I told you to use my pussy like a nicotine patch. When will you listen?”

  The crass comment causes displeased groans, yet I find solace in the humor. She’s behaving as she normally would, which is exactly what I need. With so many changes in progress, having her distasteful humor to rely on is refreshing and appreciated.

  “Thank God, you’re not going on television with him.” Evie folds her arms firmly across her chest. “The light blue was a good choice. You look sensitive. Accepting. Now show me the rehearsed look for when they read the results.”

  Instantly, I force a surprised yet sweet expression. One that looks like I’m stunned but excited.

  “And then you say….”

  “I’m glad the Wilcox family is finally gaining a sister.”

  “Rally cries of the feminazis, grumbles of the power hungry, and of course awes of the dramatic.” Evie’s explanation is accompanied with her head bouncing back and forth. “Then we cue the hug and your line….”

  “Welcome home, sis.”

  She nods her approval while Brynley taunts, “And here I thought it was just J.T. who liked a hand up the ass. You make quite the puppet yourself, babe.”

  I hit her with an irritated smirk.

  “I do not like a hand up the ass,” J.T. announces loudly.

  “Should we be concerned you emphasized hand?” My fiancée playfully points out.

  His face flushes, and the room fills with much needed laughter. From the minute the needle touched my skin late last night none of us have been at ease. Evie spent all night and most of this morning prepping me and preparing the press statements she is going to release while Jenni was on caffeine, food, and wardrobe runs. J.T. dealt with the board this morning and I handled normal business as a way to keep myself distracted. Brynley mainly spent time at my side, keeping me distracted from the life changing events and urges to drown in alcohol with licks to my earlobe and dick rubs. I rented us all the penthouse suite of the hotel that is broadcasting the reveal in their event room. It’ll make for easy access to slip to and from the pending publicized announcement. It also made the declaration to the world that is watching I am dedicated to this spectacle. That won me popularity points.

  There’s a knock at the door, and all the laughter ceases.

  Nathaniel looks at me for confirmation to open the door before making the effort.

  Once he’s accepted the person on the other side is not a threat he opens it wide to reveal one of the show’s crew members. “Um…Mr. Wilcox? It’s time.”

  Brynley gives my leg a loving squeeze. I nod my understanding, stand, and connect hands with the support system I was once too stubborn to appreciate. Together, me and my team take the elevator down to the event room where there is a live crowd waiting.

  “God, it’s like Maury, the billionaire edition,” Bryn mumbles under her breath clutching my hand tighter. “Remember not to drop to your knees and cry when you find out he was the father.”

  Evie hushes her with a stern look and a finger to the lips. They part from me to take their seats in the front row as I join Monica who is already settled in her chair, having her makeup reapplied. She offers me a smug smirk, and I swallow the instinct to remind her I could have her destroyed without lifting a finger.

  I am not my father. I will not be cruel. I will be better than that.

  “You ready to finally admit to the entire world the shameful secret your parents kept hidden?”

  Whiskey desires begin to burn again. “Yes.”

  “Good. Because I plan on having this run on multiple networks around the world and want you to be prepared to have this coverage trending for the next several weeks.”

  My eyes cut to Evie’s who is imploring I bend to her whim rather than put up a fight.

  I skip the risk of saying the wrong thing and simply nod.

  Not surprised there isn’t a host, I focus all my attention on the woman I’m about to call my sister and the suffering I’m about to endure as I wade through a sea of probing questions I don’t have answers for. I don’t know why my father fucking cheated. I don’t know why he didn’t leave it in his will or leave a legal document for me to acknowledge her when the time came. No, I don’t know why she felt she had to do this like a tacky VMA performance.

  Without further delay, we’re live.

  “Thank you so much for joining me Yea! channel viewers for today’s very special occasion. I am Monica Simmons with the Global Laundry, and I am here with Weston Wilcox, billionaire, philanthropist, and sole heir to the Wilcox Whiskey fortune.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Or is he?”

  The crowd as if rehearsed slightly gasps, and I catch Brynley rolling her eyes.

  “Recent evidence has been discovered indicating that not only he may not be the only heir to the vast majority of shares in Wilcox Enterprises, but that the sibling in question is me.”

  More collected gasps and this time J.T. rolls his eyes.

  I just need this to be over.

  I need her to have the results read, endure the fifteen minutes of incessant questioning, and move past this. Move forward as Clark encouraged. We have lives that need us. I have a fiancée who I want to marry me again. A company waiting for me to announce the next new profitable investments. Baby names to search through, though I’m still holding out hope for Weston William Wilcox junior.

  “We had our DNA tested and the results are in.” She waves over the objective third party. “This is Doctor Ramirez, the objective, agreed upon third party. Doctor whenever you’re ready, so are we.”

  The man thankfully doesn’t waste time announcing his results. “We tested to match their genetic markers. We took swab samples from them as well as blood. We also had the tests ran simultaneously in thre
e separate facilities in which we did not disclose to either party. All three results were identical. Monica Simmons and Weston Wilcox are not genetically related.”

  Our jaws drop in unison.

  Her words stumble as they rush out of her mouth, “What do you mean- not- there’s isn’t- we have to be- he- What?!”

  Doctor Ramirez expresses his empathy with a slow nod. “The labs results were all the same.”

  “There has to be some sort of mistake!”

  “No mistake.”

  Monica’s breath hitches, and the most unpredictable thing happens. She runs away out one of the side doors completely abandoning all of us.

  Unsure of what to do, I try to meet Evie’s eyes, but she’s busy demanding they cut the feed. Once they have, the man answers, “We’re clear.”

  At that point, she’s up on her feet, and announcing, “Thank you all for coming! I am sorry to have to wrap this up short, but given our missing ‘star’, there is no reason for you to stay. Please feel free to help yourselves to the refreshments in the back, and we apologize again for the unexpected change.”

  The crowd begins to voice its complaints, which is when she gives me a slight head nod to get the hell out of dodge.

  I don’t hesitate to grab Brynley’s hand and allow Nathaniel to leads us as well as J.T. away from the building commotion. We’re hastily guided to the nearest set of elevators, but when we get inside, I hit the button for Monica’s floor rather than ours.

  “These episodes are less fun when no one flips over a chair in excitement,” Brynley attempts to make light of the situation. Her voice changes to a manly one. “KeeShawn is not the father.” She then gives an overly dramatic cry and continues, “Oh Lawd, I never saw this coming! I only had sex with seventeen men!”

  Everyone’s attention diverts to her yet I’m the one who speaks, “Are you implying Monica’s mother was a whore?”

  She frowns. “I was just acting out an episode to help distract from the nightmare we’re still stuck in.”

  “What are you gonna do?” J.T. questions from the other side of me.

  That’s a damn good question. According to our agreement she’s done reporting, though I feel at this point that goes without saying. Despite us not being biological siblings, it doesn’t change the fact my father did have an affair with her mother. He was around when she was born. Did he bail when he found out the child wasn’t his? Was the money funneled as actual hush funds or more out of guilt for cheating on his wife? Or perhaps he sent it out of shame for leaving a new mother completely abandoned and alone with a new baby.

  The doors ding allowing us access to Monica’s floor. Everyone prepares to exit when I shake my head and instruct, “J.T. go and meet Evie back at the hotel penthouse. Nathaniel you can wait outside the door while we talk to Monica.”

  Brynley’s voice cracks. “We?”

  I nod profusely. “I need you by my side. Hell, I want you there.”

  “To help hide the body?” Her joke is accompanied with a wink and smirk.

  Another reason to keep her in my life. She’s mastered the art of defeating the awkward.

  The three of us head to her room in the middle of the hall.

  I give the door a gentle knock to which she shouts, “Go away!”

  In a calm voice, I command, “Open the door, Monica.”

  “No.” The pause she delivers is brief. “I’ve been humiliated enough in public. I will fucking fax you a copy of my resignation letter and the drafted apology I agreed to run. Now go!”

  Brynley begs with her eyes to just abandon the situation.

  Hasn’t she been abandoned enough? Isn’t that what all this was really about? Fighting for a chance to no longer be alone? Alone like her mother was? Alone like she’s probably been since her death?

  Recalling the pain of an isolated existence, I glance down at Brynley, and remember how good it felt the first time I finally felt I wasn’t any more. With our eyes glued together, I knock on the door again, feeling compelled to pass on even an inkling of that feeling.

  The sound of her stomping to the door causes us to take a step back. It flies open revealing her makeup smeared face. “What! You wanted to see me cry?!”

  “A little,” Brynley mumbles, quickly receiving a nudge from me.

  “Can we please come in?” She prepares to deny when I add, “I’d rather those lurking around the corner waiting to capitalize on this moment not be given the opportunity.”

  “You know, similar to the way you had my boss snooping around on me.”

  I deliver a firm stare to Brynley who backs down once more.

  After Monica lets the two of us enter her room, she braces herself against the door with folded arms. “Is that what you’re here for? To gloat?”

  My fiancée opens her mouth for a snarky retort when she’s met with a glower. She instantly surrenders her hands and flops down onto the edge of Monica’s hotel bed.

  “I’m sorry the results were not more favorable for you.”

  Her eyebrows twitch in confusion.

  “Obsessing over this…over you…over our parents almost ruined my life, and I only had to deal with it for a month. I imagine having dealt with it for almost a year drove you insane. Having more questions than answers. Having more accusations than those to hold accountable. Feeling completely alone because the only person you had been counting on in your life died before you were truly ready.”

  She sniffles. “Breast cancer.”

  “My condolences.”

  Monica clears her throat and tightens her arms. “Thank you.”

  “Despite the fact you are not my family, I would like to help you find yours.”

  “I don’t…I mean…I…What?”

  “The P.I. I hired to investigate my father’s affair with your mother was great, especially considering the constant walls he was forced to scale. I will pay him to help you find your actual father and any possible siblings you may have.”

  Her gasp is audible. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because contrary to your belief, Wes is not a monster. He’s a good man. With a good heart. And believes in making lives better not worse like you fucking lived to do,” Brynley chimes in.

  Monica bottom lip begins to tremble. “I don’t deserve your help.”

  “You don’t,” I agree. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to offer it.”

  “What are the terms? I run the announcement of your generosity alongside my retraction? Have Global Laundry vow to never publish another bad word about the Wilcox family? My first-born baby?”

  “Oh God no. Little Thing I’m growing inside me is plenty.”

  The odd nickname she’s given to our unborn child causes me to smirk. “I don’t want anything in return.”

  “No one wants something for nothing. At the very least I’m sure you want good press-”

  “No, Monica. Despite what it is you have spent months printing, everything I do isn’t for publicity. It isn’t for a price. Some things are done for the basic sake of helping others. And while my father was not always the most responsible man, that was one principle he relied on heavily and passed down to me. Acts of kindness are their own reward if you let them be.”

  My words seem to tip the tears over the edge of her eyelids. “He sounded like such a good man, Wes.”

  “He was.”

  Even if he made a mistake I can’t imagine ever making myself.

  “All of my mom’s journals and the photos and their keepsakes and her unsent letters just held him so high on this pedestal that part of me desperately wanted him to fall from grace. To have my mother be wrong for keeping his secrets and protecting him for my entire life.” She slowly shakes her head. “I guess when she died claiming he was the most important man in my life it wasn’t because he was my father…it was because he was the closest thing she could ever give me to one.”

  Photographs I spent weeks staring at cycle through my memory. Ones from her childhood birthday partie
s on the ranch having extravagant gifts and cakes. Albums filled with her horseback riding competitions and modeling expensive prom dresses. I remember making the correlation for my father sending additional money near her birthday and random increased intervals for what I imagine would match her equestrian training. Somehow they communicated in secret through the years, and he continued to provide for their family as best he could, like penance for leaving her for my mother.

  “I’ll arrange for the P.I. to have a meeting with you. If you are uncomfortable with doing it in a public place, you may use our penthouse for discretion.”

  “That’s awfully generous of you….”

  “Yeah, this is the part where you say thank you,” Brynley sasses.