More Than Love (The Barrington Billionaires Book 5)

by Ruth Cardello

  Her body warmed and revved for him, but she shook her head and opened the car door. No etiquette course was required to know their time together had come to an end. “Goodnight, Grant.” She told the driver her address and closed the door.

  As soon as the car pulled away from the sidewalk, Viviana laid her head against the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t look back to see if he was watching her go.

  Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t call.

  Not every person who comes into your life is meant to stay.

  Audrey was still out when Viviana arrived at their apartment, which was perfect because it allowed Viviana to head straight for the shower. She scrubbed herself down more thoroughly than normal while reminding herself that she’d done nothing to be ashamed of.

  I’m an adult.

  He’s an adult.

  Sex happens.

  Shame is learned—and subjective. I will not succumb to it.

  And yet she lathered, scrubbed, rinsed, and repeated several more times beneath the hot spray. After she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a large white towel, she sat back against the sink counter and took a few deep, calming breaths.

  Audrey would say—

  It doesn’t matter what she would say because I’m not Audrey. I’m not completely fine with what I did. But that’s okay, right?

  Because this is my journey.

  I am not a one-night-stand-with-a-stranger kind of woman. There, I said it. It was exciting and the best sex I’ve had to date, but I don’t like the aftertaste.

  And that’s okay, too.

  I know what I want now and what I don’t.

  She smiled and wiped a piece of mirror so she could see herself. The woman who looked back at her was complicated and confused, but she wasn’t scared anymore. I’m done apologizing for being me.

  What’s that trite saying? You have to like yourself before anyone else will like you. Well, I’ve taken the first step in that journey.

  I followed my heart tonight—okay, my groin if we’re going to be precise—and it took courage. If I apply that courage to other areas of my life I’ll start applying for those jobs I was sure wouldn’t hire me and stop avoiding phone calls from my family because I don’t want to answer their questions.

  If I can fuck a stranger in a storage closet, I can tell my father I schedule donor deliveries for a sperm bank. It’s not like I assist in the process.

  Viviana smiled at her own joke, knowing it was one she would never utter in front of her family. As far as her father and brothers knew she was the oldest living virgin on the planet and she was pretty sure they’d kill anyone who came forward with proof of the opposite.

  She gathered her things and took them to her bedroom. She placed her phone on her nightstand then sat on the edge of her bed and frowned at it. Bolstering her ego, she said aloud, “If you don’t call me it’s your loss, because I am so much more fun than I thought.”

  Chapter Four

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  The next day, Grant did something unusual, he decided to drive his LaFerrari Spider instead of utilizing his usual driver and the Bentley. The sports car had been stored in his garage since he’d received it as a gift a year ago, driven only enough to maintain it. It was over the top powerful, sleek, and flashy—everything Grant normally gave little value. He’d intended to hang onto it for a polite amount of time and then either donate it for tax purposes or private auction it for a profit. But that day he wanted to drive something that reflected how he felt, and to do that he’d chosen a car with—swagger. He was pretty pleased with himself as he drove to his parents’ home.

  Not the Barrington for the job? Too predictable? Too boring?

  I fucked a woman in a juice bar storage closet and nailed it.

  I might fuck another complete stranger tonight simply because I can. I knew I had a wild side and last night proved it.

  There is nothing my brothers have done that I couldn’t have, had I wanted to.

  When he stopped for a traffic light a beautiful brunette walked in front of his car. She paused, looked over the car, then him, and winked. His smile widened. I would fuck her if she were taller and blonde.

  At the next light the window of the car next to him rolled down and a business card flew through his window and onto his lap. A blonde woman with an undeniably stunning rack blew him a kiss and motioned for him to call her. I would fuck her if her hair were longer, and she had the kind of smile that’s impossible not to kiss.

  Like Viviana’s.

  He revved the engine and sped down the street, several miles over the speed limit. As he drove he made mental inventory of the single women in his life. From his secretary to his dental hygienist, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining being with each of them.

  It was a surprisingly disappointing fantasy thread. He sat in his car in front of his parents’ and mulled why. How could he have discovered the sexual animal within him and not want to unleash it again?

  He took out the piece of paper he’d tucked into his wallet. Viviana’s number. Common sense told him not to call the woman he’d lied to about his identity and then had sex with within hours of meeting. There was nowhere good that could go.

  He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her lips on his cock. Heaven. Every taste of her, every way they connected, flashed in his mind until he was sporting a painful boner the likes of which no man should have while sitting in his parents’ driveway.

  I don’t want my secretary or some woman I could meet at a bar tonight. I want more of last night—more of her.

  Shit.

  On the new cell phone his assistant had delivered that morning, Grant typed in the number of the woman he’d spent the evening with, telling himself he shouldn’t see her again. He held his breath and shifted uncomfortably in his seat while waiting for her to answer.

  “Hello?” Her voice was as sweet as he remembered.

  “It’s Grant. Grant from last night. At the juice bar.” He laid his head on the steering wheel briefly. I sound like an idiot.

  “Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d actually call.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” Fuck. Did I need to say that?

  “Well, okay, you’re honest at least . . . I guess that’s a good thing.”

  Not as honest as you think. Part of him wanted to blurt out his real name and apologize right then. Another part of him, possibly the part that was tenting his pants, wasn’t ready to do anything that might kill his chance to be with her again. “I want to see you tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “I have a family commitment during the day, but I’ll be free around dinner.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Would you tell me if you were?”

  The question took him off guard, and he laughed. “Yes, but if I were the type to lie about being married then I would also likely be the type to lie about lying so my denial doesn’t prove much.”

  There was a pause. “So you are married?”

  I need to shut up until some of the blood heads north to my brain again. “No, I’m extremely single.”

  “I’m not sure what that means either.”

  “It means I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to take you out tonight then take you somewhere where we can do everything we did last night—but slower—better—again and again. I want to make you come so many times you beg me to stop then beg for more.”

  The door of his parents’ house opened and his mother waved for him to come in. He raised a finger in the air, requesting one more moment. His father joined his mother on the steps and Grant’s dick had never been more conflicted. “Say yes,” he ordered in a strangled voice.

  “Yes,” she whispered, and he nearly came in his pants.

  “I have to go. I’ll text you when I’m done here.”

  “I work until four.”

  “That’s easier. I’ll pick you up at your place at six.”

  “How do you know—oh, y
ou heard me tell the driver. I don’t mind meeting you somewhere.”

  Was that what she was used to? Men who didn’t bother to pick her up at her home? He could be that man if it meant she would continue to see him as she had the night before. Just an ordinary man.

  Wealth was a blessing and a curse when it came to dating. The more zeros a man had in his net worth, the easier it was to find female companionship. The difficult part was knowing that some were more attracted to his money than they were to him.

  Some pretended not to be, but when he took them out they wanted to be on display. He didn’t doubt that many of them would have pandered to almost any fetish he claimed to have, but for the wrong reasons. If he wanted to buy that kind of sex he would have hired an escort, but he never had. For him, there was nothing sexy about fucking someone who wanted his wallet more than his cock.

  Viviana was different. She had no idea who he was, and yet she’d wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her. With her it was raw and real—and addictive.

  How could he not want one more day of that?

  As he thought about what kind of date he would have planned if he were a man with very little money, he decided he liked the idea of meeting her somewhere. Where would a man take a woman if he couldn’t afford much? “I’ll meet you at Quincy Market at six. We can get a sandwich or something.”

  “On me?” she joked.

  He smiled as he remembered that she’d bought the drinks at the juice bar. She probably thought he’d arrive without his wallet again. And yet she said yes. His heart thudded loudly. “How about if I pay for dinner and you buy dessert? Have you tried the cannoli at Carol Ann’s Bake Shop? They’re as good as—I hear they’re as good as anything you could get in Italy.”

  “Sounds nice. I’ll see you there at six.”

  “Yes. I’ll text you when I arrive.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  After hanging up, Grant took a moment to savor the afterglow. No, I’m not being entirely honest with her, but if things work out I’m sure she’ll forgive me for being filthy rich. I’ve never met a woman who had a problem with it.

  He looked down at his still semi-erect cock. Calm down so we can go in the house. Don’t make this awkward.

  His oldest brother, Asher, held his young son up to knock on the window of his car and Grant’s problem quickly disappeared. He opened the car door and stepped out. His nephew, Joseph, had grown considerably in the short amount of time since he’d seen him. Before too long he’d be speaking. “We were about to head in but Mom was worried that something was going on with you. Everything okay?”

  “Of course,” Grant answered. Joseph opened and closed his hands at Grant in a motion that meant he wanted to be held. Grant accepted him with the ease of an uncle who had not only held him many times but had also changed his diaper a time or two. Emily, Asher’s wife, had joked that he’d handled the first mess with less drama than her husband had. The compliment had not come as a surprise. Grant tended to handle every crisis, major or minor, with less fanfare than his older brother. “What a big man you are. And so heavy.” He pretended to drop him. Joseph giggled. Asher didn’t. It was almost comical to see his normally over-confident brother hover like a new mother.

  Emily joined them and whistled appreciatively. “Nice car.”

  Asher frowned at the sports car then gave Grant a long, assessing look. “Where’s your suit?”

  Grant shrugged. “I felt like wearing jeans today.”

  Asher made a speculative sound deep in his throat.

  Emily laughed. “Grant, that’s his way of saying you look nice.”

  Grant smiled and gave his sister-in-law a kiss on the cheek. “Emily, you don’t have to translate Asher for me. I know what he’s thinking, but I’m in too good of a mood for it to bother me.” He tickled Joseph’s stomach, making him giggle again. “Who’s your coolest uncle? You know it’s me.”

  Andrew pulled in and parked his car behind Grant’s. He waved then walked around to open the door for his fiancée, Helene. Hand in hand the two headed over, and it was a sight that warmed Grant’s heart. Not too long ago the family had worried they’d lost Andrew. No one had been able to break through his PTSD to reach him—until Helene. She’d won over the entire family when she’d brought him back into their lives. Grant felt as protective of her as he did his younger sister, Kenzi, and that was another reason he’d taken on the role of family detective. He would uncover the truth, and he hoped when he did it painted her uncle in a better light. Stiles had said he was responsible for Kent’s death, but what that meant was purely speculation. If there was even the slightest good in what her uncle had done, Grant would uncover it for Helene’s sake.

  Andrew gave Asher a loud crack of a pat on the back then turned his attention to little Joseph. “What are you feeding your kid, Asher? I swear he doubled in size.”

  Asher smiled with pride as if the growth of his child were by his command. “He’ll be tossing footballs with me before long.”

  Grant lowered his voice and stage whispered, “Don’t worry, Joe, I’ll talk to your mom about how all that head cracking leads to brain damage. There’s still hope for you.” Then he turned to Helene. “How is that African elephant doing?”

  A bright smile lit Helene’s face. “Good. She’s settled in and they’ve already introduced her to her herd. We were right there to help with the transition.” She hugged Andrew’s arm. “I am so grateful to be a part of it this time and to have Andrew to share it with.”

  Andrew pulled her to his chest and kissed her forehead. The look of love on his face was so pure, so unfiltered, that Grant cleared his throat and blinked a few times as emotion took him by surprise. As he searched for how he’d lost one brother, the reality of how close he’d come to losing a second was unsettling.

  Whatever the truth was about Kent, Grant wouldn’t let it threaten the life Andrew was making for himself. Not on my watch.

  The insertion of questionably clean fingers into his mouth brought Grant’s attention back to Joseph. He pulled the little hand out and looked around for a napkin. Emily held one out to him, but when he released the imp’s hand to reach for it, Joseph solved the problem by wiping his hand on Grant’s T-shirt. “Okay then,” Grant said and laughed, tossing the napkin back to Emily. “I guess I don’t need that after all.”

  Andrew laughed along then slugged Grant in the arm. “Hey, have you been working out?”

  Since middle school, and we probably bench press the same amount. “Have you been showering? I’m not getting the full zoo aroma,” Grant joked instead.

  There was no use trying to convince his brothers he wasn’t a nerd who hid behind a desk all day. They had an opinion of him that he’d cemented in high school by participating in international chess competitions. Back then it hadn’t been about the win as much as studying the strategies of the greatest at the game. More than once Grant had let an opponent who needed the cash prize win. He knew his trust fund balance to the penny and could not in good conscience let another man leave the table without the prize if he needed the money. When Grant threw a match, he did it so well no one was the wiser—he was that good. His brothers had never understood how he could enjoy something he wasn’t the best in. How could he lose—publicly—and not feel badly about it? Grant didn’t bother to try to explain it to them. It would have been like talking to a lion about deciding to go vegan.

  Perhaps because their father, Dale, had suffered such a public loss with his career—his brothers didn’t back down. They refused to come in second place. It had been too difficult for any of them to attend any of Grant’s matches once they weren’t sure of the outcome. They didn’t understand when the collateral damage would have been too high, the loss was a win.

  Andrew lifted Joseph out of Grant’s arms. “You don’t mind if I smell like a zebra now and then, do you? Do you?” He tucked Joseph against his side and asked the group in general, “Is Lance coming today? I haven�
��t seen Wendy and Laney since they came home from the hospital. How is he surviving all that estrogen in his house?”

  Before anyone could answer, another car pulled into the driveway. Kenzi and her husband, Dax. Behind them came an SUV with Lance, his wife Willa, and their month-old babies, Wendy and Laney. Ian arrived as they were still unloading.

  “Looks like we’re all here,” Grant said.

  “Are you coming in or should I have lunch served out there?” his mother called from the doorway, but she was smiling. Over the last two years the family had multiplied and each new addition brought them closer to being the family they always should have been.

  “We’re coming, Mom,” Kenzi called out between hugging everyone. Dax was at her side, smiling and shaking hands. Kenzi couldn’t have chosen a better, more loving husband, but he wasn’t comfortable with physical displays of affection.

  Normally Grant felt the same, but that day he decided to fuck with him just because he could. He walked over and gave him a good, back-thumping hug. “Good to see you, Dax.”

  Dax stood immobile, neither refusing nor accepting the action. When Grant stepped back, the cautious look of concern on Dax’s face was priceless. “Good to see you, too, Grant.”

  Kenzi completely misread the exchange and beamed a smile at both of them. “It really is good to be together, isn’t it? I know we’re all busy, but when we get together it’s worth it.”

  Looking frazzled and tired, Lance and Willa joined them, both balancing baby carriers, diaper bags, and an assortment of toys. Grant swooped in to relieve Willa of little Laney as well as the heavy diaper bag. He nodded for Ian to do the same for Lance and wasn’t surprised when Ian chose the toys and bags over the baby. None of them had been around babies much before Joseph was born and Ian still wasn’t comfortable around even him. He didn’t like surprises or messes, and Joseph was a constant supplier of both. Grant didn’t tolerate chaos in his workplace or his checkbook, but the kind of trouble Joseph brought wasn’t trouble at all. After all, what investment was more valuable than the next generation? “Hello, little Laney. You look more like your mother every day. Beautiful.”