“Ugh,” I grimace but take another sip anyway. I don’t know what’s up with Graham, but after everything else, I need a little fortification.
On cue, the doorbell rings. Wine glass in hand, another drink tumbling down my throat, I spy G on the other side and pull it open.
His look is lethal. I almost drop the glass.
“What’s wrong?” I stutter, watching him charge by. “Graham?”
Sitting my wine glass on the entry table, I latch the door and turn on my heel. He’s glowering at me from the other end of the foyer.
I’ve never seen my brother, any of them, so angry. Ever. His eyes are narrowed, wickedly so, as he heaves air in and out of his body. “Just saw Ford,” he says, his words measured. “He said he had lunch with you and Lincoln yesterday.”
“Yes,” I say, equally measured. It’s suddenly all clear why he’s so angry. Ford told him he met Dom. Thinking fast, I decide to go on the defensive. “And with Dominic.”
He smiles, but there’s no kindness to it. No amusement. “And Dominic. So, tell me, Camilla, what do you know about Dominic?”
“All I need to.” When his eyes narrow even more, I see where this is going. Storming by him, I don’t even look his way. “You can see yourself out.”
“I’m not done here yet,” he barks after me.
“I am.”
My steps smack off the tile as I enter the kitchen and position myself as far away from my brother as I can. Knowing this is about Dominic changes everything.
I generally listen to G. I value his opinion, but I won’t stand in my own house and listen to him take his opinions on a man he’s never met and twist them all around and throw them at me.
My blood boils, my own eyes narrowing as he stands across the room. “What do you want, Graham?”
“Let’s start with this: I had breakfast with our mother this morning.”
“Good for you.”
“She said Paulina called her last night.”
“Fuck Paulina,” I say with more emphasis than I even intended.
He lifts a brow.
“Yeah, Graham. Fuck Paulina,” I hiss, watching him absorb a very un-Camilla-like display. “Oh, wait, you already did.”
His eyes darken, making him look more like my father than I’ve ever realized. “Choose your words wisely, Camilla.”
“The same goes for you.”
“What’s gotten into you?” he growls. “Is this what he’s is doing to you? Making you some crazed lunatic?”
“This is a crazed lunatic?” I laugh. “Really? It seems to me that being accosted in my own home and standing up for yourself is a little less lunatic-y than barging into your sister’s house and making her feel like some kind of criminal for nothing.”
His lips twist together, dismissing me. “I want you to take a good look at yourself in the mirror, little sister, and see if you like what you see.”
Imagining what Graham is seeing causes me to smile. It’s something he’s never seen before. It’s something I’ve never felt before. Determination.
I’ve fought with Lincoln before and sparred with Ford, but never Graham. He’s always been so much older than me that our conversations have always been logical, even-footed. Him the older brother and me the younger, more submissive sister. Not today.
Today it doesn’t matter if I make him mad. I don’t care if he thinks I’m an idiot or calls me foolish. I have absolutely no need to humor him or try to see things from his perspective because he is wrong. On so many levels.
“Dom has made me see things differently,” I admit. “It’s making me see people differently.”
“Is that right?”
“It’s absolutely right.”
He grabs the back of a barstool at the island and squeezes the top. “Are you aware that your . . . what is he? Your boyfriend?”
“He’s whatever I want him to be.”
“Of course he is,” he scoffs. “I’m sure he’s a modern day Romeo.”
Heaving a deep breath, I look him in the eye. “Graham, I’m trying very, very hard to remember that you’re my brother and all this probably, hopefully, comes from a good place. You’re making it extremely difficult.”
He considers this. Shifting his weight to the other leg, his eyes never leave mine. “Ford says he thinks it’s serious between the two of you.”
“Did Ford tell you that they got along? That they had a decent conversation and that he was helping him out with a few things?”
“I also talked to Lincoln.”
“Oh, yes, by all means, listen to Lincoln for the first time in your life,” I laugh, which only makes Graham’s anger return. “You should listen to him, actually. You want to know why?”
“I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“Because at least Lincoln had the guts and class to meet him and decide for himself. You haven’t bothered to do anything but listen to what you don’t want to hear!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me for not wanting to hear that he’s cocky—”
“Lincoln,” I say, letting him know I know where he heard that.
“Unable to take care of you—”
“Ford,” I sigh.
“And looks like, and I quote, ‘a man that just walked out of a federal prison,’” Graham concludes.
“Paulina. Maybe Raquel,” I sigh dramatically. “Did they also mention that he’s smart, has a day job, a night job, and a part-time job,” I say, counting the fighting as a part-time gig. “Did they mention that he makes me feel special? That he’s as overprotective in a lot of ways as you are,” I glare, “or that he’s never been in prison but might just end up there if he heard how you’re talking to me right now?”
Graham rolls his eyes, making a show of his annoyance. “Are you aware Dominic is Nolan’s nephew?”
I nod, taking a long, strangled breath. “Yes. I am aware of that.”
“And you’re still seeing him?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
He roughs his hands through his picture-perfect hair, mussing it all up. He looks around the kitchen like he’s trying to find a way to talk sense into me or something equally as dramatic. I would laugh if we weren’t discussing this particular topic.
“Cam,” he begins, “I’m a reasonable person. It may not seem like it right now, but I am. That being said, do you have any idea what this is going to do to Barrett?”
“I know he doesn’t like Nolan and I get it. But—”
“Doesn’t like Nolan?” he says incredulously. “That man tried to ruin Barrett’s career. He almost got Alison assaulted, do you remember that? Nolan almost destroyed Barrett’s . . . everything . . . and here you are—”
“Here I am what?” I power back. “Maybe falling in love with someone that had an asshole of a father that was brothers with another asshole? How is that Dominic’s fault, G?”
“How are you going to explain this to Barrett?”
“You were aware that Paulina screwed Barrett and, most likely Ford, and you still slept with her. Nobody was worried about that. I’m not sure why we all care who I’m fucking.”
His eyes narrow, his knuckles turning white. He’s ready to fire back at me, but I don’t give him the chance.
“You need to be a little less worried about what I’m doing and more about what you are. I talked to Mallory today. You do realize you’re on the verge of messing that all up, right? Or we’re not allowed to talk about that? Just who I’m sleeping with?”
The flinch is obvious, his hand dropping from the chair.
“Yes, Graham, I do know that he’s Nolan’s nephew. I also know how genetics work and that you don’t get to pick who you’re related to. If that were the case, I would opt out of sharing any DNA with you right now.”
He takes that hit, tugging at the collar of his white button-down shirt. His cufflinks twinkle in the light cast from the chandelier over his head. There are lines on his face I haven’t noticed before—deep, worrisome etches i
n his skin. If I wasn’t so mad at him, I’d ask him how he was feeling. But I don’t because I am still angry.
“I also know about the loan,” he states.
“Good for you.”
“Cam, please tell me you understand why this is concerning. Please tell me you haven’t lost all of your mind.”
“I get it. I’m not stupid. It’s a lot of money to be loaning someone that looks like he . . . what did you say? Walked out of prison? Something like that?”
Looking at the ceiling, he sighs.
“What is this, Graham? Is this about the money? About social status? Did it offend you somehow that Mom’s friends saw me with someone not in a Brooks Brother’s suit? Did that somehow take down our Landry brand?”
He shoots me a glare.
“Because if that’s the case, if that’s what we’ve been relegated to, I’m not sure I fit in here anymore.”
“Of course that’s not it,” he mutters. “I’m just . . . I’m trying to control what’s going on here.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice for a change. Go home. Find Mallory. Worry about that relationship and not mine. Trust me when I tell you that your efforts will be much more appreciated and are much more necessary in your own house.”
He shakes his head. “I take it you’re going to continue seeing him.”
It’s not the words so much that pierce me. It’s more the tone, the dismissive nature of them that zip right through me like a hot knife.
“Get out of my house.”
He doesn’t move.
“I’m not joking, Graham. Get out of my house now.”
“Swink . . .”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and feeling my hands start to tremble. “Leave. You aren’t welcome here.”
He holds my gaze before turning to go. He gets to the door and yanks it open. When he turns, I see fire in his eyes. “When you wise up, you know where to find me to get you out of whatever mess he gets you in.”
The door closes. I wait a few seconds to make sure he’s gone before bursting into tears.
Dominic
THE HOUSE IS QUIET. NATE is at the bar and Chrissy came by and took Ryder a little while ago. It’s just me, a beer that is the temperature of piss, and a muted television.
Everything hurts. My body. My head. My heart. It all aches like a motherfucker.
My legs stretch in front of me as I sit on the sofa, my eyes watching but not seeing the talking head on the news. There’s some story on about a family that had something tragic happen but are now all smiles, holding hands, all that shit. Shit I’ve never had.
Shit I’ll never have.
Not the way I want it.
I’m tired. The thought of getting up in the morning and going to work and then to the gym and then home to this, makes me want to close my eyes and just sleep. There’s no point to it. No point to any of it.
Yesterday was supposed to be a way to make some inroads with the Landry’s. I figured it was probably for naught and that’s why I refused for so long.
Then things changed.
I don’t know when it happened, but it did. She became not just a girl I was fucking but someone I looked forward to seeing at the end of the day. I made sure there was sorbet, something I didn’t even know existed before her, in my freezer. It was her voice I wanted to hear before I laid down.
Cam makes me feel things I haven’t felt before. Give a fuck about things I didn’t know I could care about. Like the fact that she made it home at the end of the night or had enough cold medicine when she wasn’t feeling good.
When things got to this point, I don’t know. But when she asked me to meet her brother and I could see that it mattered to her . . . I felt like I mattered to her.
That’s why they say feelings are dangerous. They take a quick fuck and turn it into visions of something a year, two years, ten years later. The shit that’s on the television right now.
I click it off and down the rest of the lukewarm brew.
My eyes start to close when a knock at the door brings them open. Wincing as I get to my feet, I set the bottle down and get to the entry. Looking through the hole, my heart almost stops beating.
I can’t get it open fast enough.
Her face is streaked with mascara, her beautiful sky-blue eyes watery and puffy. It takes one look, not even a question, before she lunges forward and wraps her arms around my waist.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, pulling her inside and shutting the door. My heart thunders in my chest as I try to see her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She nuzzles against me, her words muffled by my shirt.
Scooping her up, her legs hanging off one of my arms as my other cradles her back, I carry her to the sofa. As I sit, I place her on my lap. “Okay. What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
She takes a deep breath and it shakes as she comes down from the crying high. A quick, easy smile that touches her eyes settles some of my nerves. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dom.”
“I really don’t care if you want to talk about it,” I laugh. “We’re going to talk about it.” Gathering her hair and twisting it together, I place it over one shoulder. “Tell me. Did I do something? I mean, I probably did, but . . .”
“It wasn’t you.”
My features fall. This changes things. “Okay. Who did?”
“Graham,” she whispers.
“Your brother? He made you cry?”
“Yes.”
I move in my seat, finding it impossible to get comfortable. She tries to climb off my lap, but I keep her in place. I need her here. With me. On me.
“I threw Graham out of my house,” she says quietly without looking at me.
“Why?”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “He just . . . he was being irrational.”
I watch her face. There’s a sorrow there that burns me to the core, and suddenly, I get it. “It was because of me.”
“Dom . . .” she pleads.
I’m right. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Just that he’d talked to Ford and Lincoln and either put it together or someone told him, I don’t know, but he found out you’re Nolan’s nephew.”
“Of course he did,” I mutter, feeling my head begin to pound. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” She tries to cup my face with her hands, but I shake them away. “Dom, listen to me, it’s not your fault.”
“I know it isn’t my fault I’m related to Nolan. Clearly. But I’m sorry I put you in this position.”
Lifting her off my lap, I stand up and head to the center of the room. Pacing a circle, I feel my soul start to splinter.
“I told him to leave,” she says, a tear trickling down her cheek. “I told him I won’t put up with it.”
“But he’s right.”
“About what?”
“About everything he said,” I admit, feeling my spirit begin to wane. “And everything he might not have.”
She gets to her feet, both cheeks now damp. “He’s not right. About any of it,” she sniffles. “You’ve been telling me to stand up for myself and think for myself, Dominic.”
“I have. But, Cam, this isn’t a fight you have to take, babe,” I sigh. “This is your family. Yes, you need boundaries with them. Yes, you need to tell them to mind their own business and you need to step out of their shadow and show them who you really are and what you’re capable of. But, Cam . . .” I shake my head. “That’s your family.”
“I thought you hated my brothers.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think about them. You need them. You can’t let some asshole like me get in between you.”
“I need them?” she asks, her brows lifted. “You know what I need, Dominic?”
My breath still in my chest, my hands nearly shaking at my sides. I wait for her next words, unable to look away.
“I need you,” she whispers.
With those three little words, she takes th
e few steps between us and wraps her arms around my waist. I hold her tight, squeezing her against me for dear life as I struggle to maintain enough oxygen flow to stay cognizant.
No one has needed me before. Not in the way she just looked at me. Women have needed me for an orgasm or a safety net or something to do on a Friday night. There’s never been a female that’s looked at me, the me under the ink and the game, and said they wanted that.
There aren’t words available to give her because I’m not sure what to say to that. My mouth feels dry, cottony, but there’s a warmth flooding me that I’d prefer stick around a while.
Cam melts into my chest, her fingers pressing against my back as she clings on as if she’s afraid I’ll reject her. That’s my fault too.
“I won’t come between you and your brothers,” I say, stroking the back of her head. “You can’t let a guy like me ruin that.”
“A guy like you?” She pulls back so I can see her face. “I just defended you to the smartest man I know—no offense.”
“None taken, I don’t think. Well, maybe not.”
She grins. “You’re definitely the hottest.”
“That makes me feel a little better.”
“And the sexiest.”
“That also helps,” I smile.
“And the sweetest.”
“That’s a lie,” I laugh, watching her gorgeous smile reflect back at me.
She lifts a hand and touches my cheek. “You’re not going to come between me and my brothers. They might be mad and throw a fit, but if they want to act like children, that’s their wives’ problem. Not mine.”
“The last thing I want to do is cause you any problems. I look at you and think all I’ll ever be able to do is fuck you up, and I’d kill myself before I let that happen.”
“I know,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “That’s why I trust you.”
“Tell me one thing,” I say. “Did Graham hurt you?”
“Just my feelings. And not even really those. But I might’ve hurt his,” she says, pondering my question. “I wonder how he’ll feel about that in the morning?”
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