by ChaShiree M
As he puts me into his Aston I can’t help but smile because I have always loved this car. “Fata, do you want to tell me while your vocal chords work how and why you could walk away from the life we built?” His anger is palpable and radiating off him and touching me in ways that make me cringe. The hurt in his voice is what almost cripples me with guilt. He reminds me of a grenade at this moment. One wrong move or word could set him off. The problem is I don’t have time to pussy foot around him; I have to get him to let me go before I bring something worse into his life.
This beautiful man that has only ever loved, protected and cherished me looks so dejected by my betrayal. I want to launch myself at him, beg for forgiveness, tell him everything and let the chips fall where they may. But, I can’t bring myself to put all I love and hold dear in the line of my father.
“Ren, I wish I could tell you but it’s better for everyone if you just let me disappear again and forget about me.” The murderous look he gives me is one I have never seen him direct at me, only others. For the first time, I’m afraid of him. The amount of emotional not physical pain could cause Ren to take revenge and retribution on me. Not realizing I have slid closer to the door the eyebrow raises and he says, “Have you been away from my arms so long Mia Fata that you have forgotten how these hands have loved you? I would never harm one of the most precious things to have ever held my heart?”
There was no holding back the dam after that. First the tears start, then the hiccups with snot running out my nose. Ren hands me a handkerchief and goes back to driving. Eventually I pull myself together, but not before I feel and look like a lost toddler. As we came to a stop, I look through tear stained eyes and see the same love he had before reflected there causing the water works to start again. Oh boy, this is going to be a long night if I can’t stop crying.
I vaguely recall being picked up and carried, I must have dozed off or been in shock because he was lying on his side looking at me as if he had found a long-lost treasure. In his beautiful eyes I can see a faint hint of tears and I want to rub his cheek while telling him not to worry, it will be O.K., even though I am not so sure.
“Are you calm now my love?”
I nod.
“Bene. Go to the bathroom and freshen up. There is someone who stayed up extra late to meet you. I think it has been long enough for the both of you.”
I must have looked terrified because he starts consoling me, telling me it’s what we both need and I no longer have a choice. I am trying not to examine why it makes me feel protected, I exhale and decide I am going to run with it.
On shaky legs I get up and go to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize the emotions this reunion will make will be in real-time life and not in flashbacks. Will I feel hatred, confusion, a lack of connection or all the above being directed at me? I mean who the fuck am I kidding. I deserve it all and more, but I know being met with any of those will break me and I will never recover.
I am stalling by washing my face and reapplying my makeup trying and not to look like a red-faced puffer fish, I try to gather my courage. After taking a deep breath, I open the medicine cabinet looking for something to stop the oncoming headache. I notice there are toiletries for a woman and suddenly I feel the last shred of hope fall through my hands and shatter at my feet. It may have been a silent break to others but I hear it as loud as if it was a real glass. Did I really believe and expect after all these years he would still be alone? Ren is by far one of the most beautiful, rich and powerful men in New York City. His tall, tanned and muscular body resembles a Greek God.
In addition he has a power beyond anything I have ever known and that includes political power. From my experience the year I spent with him, it certainly surpassed celebrity status and political power. See Ren’s dad is the head of the Italian mafia in N.Y. That makes my Ren the second in command. With power, women literally throw themselves at him. Going as far as stopping short of raping him just to get his attention.
After all I chose this life of exile after all. So why do I feel this overwhelming sense of betrayal as if buckets of ice are being poured over my thawing heart? Plunging it back into the darkness.
It was for a good reason, but it was still a choice that took my life from me and apparently gave it to another woman. Instead of telling me he has moved on, he brought me here to see all I have missed as a punishment. I grip the sink trying to steady my shaking knees while holding a sob in and keeping it from tearing my body apart, putting an end to me.
I hear the bathroom door open and Ren asks “Are you ready Fae?”
I turn and look at the man who once pledged his life to me. To protect and love me. I know I deserve his vengeance and more for what I have done. I will try to accept it graciously …but it still hurts knowing what is coming my way.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
He leads me out of the bathroom and I finally get to look around. His house is beautiful. Actually, house is too tame word for what it really is; instead Palatial would be more like it. It’s an open floor plan with marble pillars throughout the whole house. The floors look like your walking on heaven. They too are marble but a white sort of cloudy design that makes it look like your floating in the sky.
The furniture is pristine, but functional in beiges and tans. You can clearly make out a feminine touch in this beautiful home but not overtly so. I see pieces of Ren too in the leather accents, in deep rich browns and burgundy’s. Whoever she is she has good taste.
My stomach is aching. My hands are shaking with sweat accumulating on them. I honestly don’t think I will be standing upright in the next few seconds. I feel myself wanting to bolt and look for the fastest way out. As if he knows where my thoughts are headed or even expected this, he puts me in a chair and grabs my hand to both soothe and warn. God, it feels good to have him touch me. Even this simple handholding.
“Fata, calm down. Alec please bring him now, we are ready” then hangs up the house phone.
Using a penetrating stare meant to through me off balance, I don’t feel his other hand touch me until it is gripping my neck bringing my mouth to his. His mouth slants over mine seeking and probing like a missile looking for its target.
At my gasp his tongue plunges into my mouth while pulling my head back at the same time making me gasp even louder and giving him full control over this wonderful torture he is imbuing on me in this instant. I have no more fight left in me. All I can do is surrender all I have left and hope at the end there is enough left to slink off into a hole and die with some shred of dignity.
I want this one memory to bring me warmth and comfort on cold lonely nights. I wrap my arms around his neck and try to climb him to get close enough because he alone has the power to resuscitate me. I could crawl up under his skin and borough myself there. Away from all the bad memories, the darkness and away from what I know is to come I would do in an instant.
I continue to cling to him and beg him through wet needy kisses for mercy. This kiss. Kiss…. kiss. Kiss is so not the word for what is happening between us right now. His tongue is spearing me, claiming me and mouth. Fucking me in such a way that I am more than positive that I will come from the kiss alone if we don’t stop.
I feel my pussy quiver in anticipation and need; expecting to be brought back to life after years of lying dormant in exile. It feels so right and dangerous because it is all an illusion used to throw me off and confuse me…. Right? I mean it must be. Isn’t it? I am too scared to hope for anything different, but too worked up to care at this moment. I wonder if he can tell how wet I am. How can he not. I’m all but straddling and humping him at this point. Racing toward my release at a rapid speed for fear I won’t have this chance again; to either find release or to have it with him, which is the most important part of this equation. I am afraid that I will be ripped from this euphoria and thrown back into the darkness where he plucked me from before I am given something to take to the grave with me.
“Slow down my beau
tiful little fairy. Or should I call you nymph right now?” He says with a chuckle.
“I’ve got you. Dea, I forgot how you respond by going up in flames when I get you under me. Come on baby breath. We have a visitor coming and he deserves your full attention.”
He’s petting me trying to help stoke the inferno that has built up in me. I’m becoming cognizant to the fact that I am mewling and holding on the lapel of his shirt like a lifeline. I know my face can only be the shade of the brightest rouge and I duck my head in embarrassment and shame at the way I have behaved. He rubs my head and continues to rock me back and forth whispering beautiful, fanciful things in my ear that I won’t allow myself to believe. But I use them as anchors to bring me back.
I let go of him and take a deep breath. My heart is beating so fast you would think I just ran a marathon. I am unable to stop trembling with so much lust and adrenaline. Wanting only his mouth back on me. I don’t care that he belongs to someone else now, or that he hates me. I just want to be able to feel one more time.
Someone knocks at the door and everything starts to flow in slow motion.
I turn to stand as the door opens and I see the very life I left behind enter the room, my knees can no longer hold me up from the overwhelming feelings of love, sadness and fierce protectiveness that wash over me.
“Mama”
REN
What the fuck do I walk in to? Huh. Can you guess? Yea some dead motherfucker with his about to be broke fucking hands on my woman. She looked like she was going to throw her drink at him, but fuck that. A drink tossed in his face is not good enough. He has to be made an example of because touching my woman is a big no-no. I don’t give a fuck that he didn’t know she was taken.
Is this yahoo serious? He is looking at me like I’m the intruder. He must not have figured out who I am yet. “Did you hear me asshole? What makes you think you have the right to put your hands on what belongs to me?”
I glance at Fae after I say that so she knows how serious I am. Because fuck yea, she belongs to me and has since the moment I plucked her young ass off the sidewalk of New York looking for Mulberry St. There has been no one since her. There never will be. She is everything. I would do anything for her. Somehow I have to get her to know that. But first, I have to get her out of here, after I off this fool. Oh shit. When did I start choking his ass? Oh boy, Lucca is about to get twitchy and start his lecturing shit. He hates when I get my hands dirty. I give him the salute to let him know its cool. I look over at Fae and she starts her shit trying to tell me what I have no right to do…Yea, ok. Like I’m going to listen to that shit. “Shut the fuck up Fae. I will deal with your ass in a minute.” If she is smart, then she knows I mean her literal ASS!!!
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Turn the page for the first three chapters of
Brother-in-law to love
Prologue
Brooke
Never did I think I would end up here. This is certainly not the life I dreamed about when I was younger. See, I am a 23-year-old happily married virgin. Before I get ahead of myself, I should clarify that my husband, Blake Spencer, is keeping a huge secret from the rest of the world. Blake has been my best friend since 9th grade. I have always known he was gay but for some reason, no one else ever picked up on it. When we were 20, we got married. He was finally taking over his father’s company. His father passed away 15 years ago. The seat was held by an interim CEO who was prepping Blake to take over. He was advised that board wanted him to be “settled”. He took that to mean he should be married. Blake lucked out when his brothers didn’t want to be in charge. Since Robby is in the Army and Derek is a comic book designer, they became silent partners with Blake. I say that I am happily married because really it could be so much worse. I live a life of luxury. I run several charities that help domestic violence survivors. In fact, my assistant, Jason, is my husband’s boyfriend. We can get away with him coming on trips and such with us because I rely on him so heavily for work. They are totally in love and I must admit I am jealous. Not because my husband cheats on me because that is not what this is. I am jealous because I am head over heels in love with my brother-in-law, Derek. You see my despair here? It’s not like I can do anything about it. I promised I would never out Blake. As much as I want Derek, I could never do that to Blake. Not that Derek would want me anyways. I just need to figure out how in the world I am going to get over him, without ever having been under him.
Chapter One
Brooke
You’d think working for a charity would be easy. You’d be so wrong! It is very hard both physically and emotionally. I go to my office every morning at 9 am. I work all morning with financial stuff. Getting donation checks deposited and funding out to our various shelters. In the afternoons, I visit a different shelter every day. We have six in total. They are scattered all over Northern California. I talk to the full-time staff determining if they need anything that is out of the budget. I also talk with the victims and their children. I am technically a grief counselor, but I especially enjoy talking to the children. I didn’t have the best childhood. I know what these people are going through. It is exhausting but so rewarding. I am home by 6:00 each night, but I get lonely. I read too much and watch too much television. My husband and Jason head off to their room while I try to get comfortable. I am just putting Netflix on when my phone buzzes with an alert. The front gate is ringing. Grabbing my phone, I quickly pull up the security app and see that it is Derek. Of course, it is! My totally fucking hot brother-in-law. I buzz him through, but I am totally freaking out. Blake and Jason are off doing God knows what. Shit! I have no time to worry that I am not exactly presentable. I rush over to the other side of the suite knocking loudly on Blake’s door.
“Yes.” Jason calls. I know better than to open the door. Once was enough for that mental image I’ll never be rid of.
“Stay in there. Derek is here. I’ll see what he wants.”
“Uh sure, thanks, Brooke,” Blake calls through the door.
I am rushing to the front door and get to it just as he rings the bell. Tonto, our Pomeranian, goes berserk. I pick him up off the floor and throw the door open. Derek takes a lingering look at me. I take that time to look down and see that I am literally almost naked, and I am wearing his shirt. Damn, this isn’t a good look at all. I had borrowed it at Christmas when my niece Everly, knocked my wine glass over splashing my white sweater. Everly is my sister-in-law Veronica and her husband Dave’s 9-year-old daughter. She has a lot of energy. Derek was hosting this year. Solo. He commanded the room. As usual, I wasn’t really paying attention to anyone but him. Christmas and Sunday Dinners are really the only time we see Blake’s family together. Jason doesn’t come, and it is easier to pretend all is well with our world. I hang out with my mother-in-law Lucy a lot. She really is the mother I never had. Veronica is my only other friend. For some reason, I don’t get along with women well. Tonto’s barks bring me back to the present. I can already feel my face getting hotter with embarrassment.
“Hey Derek, come on in,” I say with a smile. “What brings you by?”
“I wanted to discuss something with Blake. Is he in?” He says as he brushes past me. His very muscular arm grazes my currently bra-less chest. My nipples tighten, and I know he felt it. His lips are now in a tight, grim line. His dark, longish hair, looks freshly run through with fingers. Damn, he looks so fuckable. I wonder who he is fucking these days. I can’t think about that without a pang in my stomach. I don’t know why I let that though get to me so much. I know he isn’t mine and never will be.
“Oh, um no. He’s out for the evening.” I sputter out. I close the door and set Tonto down. He sniffs Derek and moseys on back to where he came from. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No Brooke. There is nothing you can help me with.” He says with his gravelly voice. Is it just me or he is he looking at me weirdly? I can feel my whole-body flushing. I am still standing by the door. My hot pin
k tipped toe nails are now the only thing in my line of sight. I can’t look at him. There is too much temptation. I know it’s one-sided, but the way he’s looking at me does something to me. He reaches by me and grabs the door knob.
“Just tell him I came by. I need to speak to him as soon as possible.” He says, lingering near my ear.
“I’ll tell him, Derek. Goodnight.” I say. My voice is so breathy, I don’t recognize it.
“You look amazing in my shirt Sweet B. Goodnight.” He rasps into my ear and kisses my cheek. There was nothing overtly sexual about it, but my mind goes there instantly. He walks through the door and I am left in a metaphorical puddle in my foyer. Blake comes around the corner. He is staring at me.
“What did he want?” He asks. He looks pissed, but I can’t deal with that right now. Who does he think he is?
“He wants to talk to you as soon as possible. Good night Blake, enjoy the rest of your evening.” I walk away. The privacy of my room is calling me. I need to breathe.
I need to think. I need to learn to live my life.
Chapter Two
Derek
Shit! I should not have said that to her. I can’t believe she answered the door like that. I almost died. I have never seen so much of her before. Wearing my University of Santa Rosa Penguins t-shirt and very clearly nothing else. The damn shirt is so thread bare, stretched across her ample body. Her perky, dusky nipples were eye-catching. I know her breasts would be more than a handful. The dark thatch of hair between her legs was also visible, surrounded her thick, mouth-watering thighs. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I have always cursed my brother’s good fortune for seeing her first. I still remember the first time I saw her. Brooke Tiernan was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was 15 and came over for dinner. Her overly long brown hair was knotted and dirty looking and I wanted nothing more than to wash it for her. I felt compelled to protect her in ways she didn’t know she needed yet. I wanted to take care of her in ways I didn’t yet understand. She was Blake’s first friend from public school. He had been kicked out of Dorchester Academy for a prank and my parents were at their wit’s end. He brought her home and she never left. Her foster parents didn’t care what she did so long as they got that check every month. She stayed at our house for almost 2 years before CPS got wind of it. I don’t know what my parents said to them, but she didn’t leave then either. I was 18 and a senior in high school. I knew I wanted her then, but it got complicated quickly. She never left Blake’s side and as much as I wanted to make her mine, I didn’t do anything to break them up. They were inseparable. When they started dating shortly after their 10th-grade year began, I knew I had lost my chance. That year and the summer before college, I can’t even tell you how many times I took myself in hand to the thought of her and came with her name on my lips. It was a pathetic amount though. Their wedding day was the worst day of my life. I was the best man, though my other younger brother, Robby, was closer to him. He was serving in the Army and couldn’t make the wedding. I just as easily imagined myself marrying Brooke. Regret is a hard thing for a man like me to live with. Being in love with your brother’s wife isn’t for the faint of heart. Luckily, I can handle this. I am pretty sure I can handle this. While I was in college, I attempted to move on from her. I dated some and got laid a lot, but it has always been Brooke. My Sweet B. It is coming to a point where something has got to give. I am 26. My comics make decent money. Not Marvel money, but I have a trust fund that I invested. I do all right. But I am lonely. My mother is already pressuring me for grandkids, but there is only one woman who I want to bear my children and since that will never be it’s time to move on. At least get a girlfriend, so my mother stops hounding me. If I am totally honest with myself, I can’t see myself ever loving anybody as much as I love my Sweet B.
