by Nana Malone
"Fine, you have a deal." She wanted this to be real. Just be careful with your heart.
9
Tate had been flying high since that morning. He'd gotten in just at nine, but for him that was late. The old man was waiting for him in his office.
"There you are. Are you sick?"
He frowned. "No. Why? I just had something to do this morning. What do you need?"
"One of my clients from LMV, she's coming in a little later this morning. She requested to see you. You know what that’s about?"
LMV, the little lady from the dance class? "Yeah, I met her when I was meeting a friend and she said she recognized me." She'd also said she wanted to see him strut his stuff but he left that out of the narrative.
"Great. She seems to like you. You've always had a way with the clients."
"Yeah, that's me." Since his father was in such a good mood, he decided to broach the topic of the direction he was looking to take on the side. Again. "Hey Dad, have you taken a look at that proposal I sent you?"
"I did, actually. And it's a fine idea, but there is no reason for you to run that. It should be under the philanthropic arm."
What? "No. It's my pet project. I'd like to see it through. It's a chance to do real good."
"I hear what you're trying to say, but can you really take this on? And do your current workload?"
I can if I stop covering for Donovan. "I don’t know Dad, I’m a pretty smart guy. I can figure it out."
"All right, well let's discuss this at dinner. And where is your brother? Every time I go by his office he's never there."
Tate's mind scrambled as he tried to think if Donovan was supposed to meet with any clients today. At some point he had to cut the cord. You are not your brother's keeper. But Donovan was his twin. And he'd promised their mother. If he could take care of him he would. Is that what you call last night and this morning? Taking care of your twin? He shoved the thought aside. That was different. Liar.
"I'll find him and tell him you need to speak to him."
His father stood and studied him more carefully. "You seem ... happy, or something."
That was one word for it. Sated was another. "I'm good, Dad. I’ll tell Donovan you’re looking for him."
When his father left, he settled into his work for the morning. He only looked up when his alarm went off, telling him that a text came in saying "I’ll see you soon,” with an image of Cara puckering up.
Dick hard. It was really that easy. No effort from her, all she had to do was exist. He was in trouble. She also had a good point. He had to figure out the Donovan situation. And soon. Because he was falling for her and he didn't want to give her up. He'd done it once for his brother and he'd fucked it up. He wasn't doing that shit again.
Cara followed the security guard to Tate's office. She still wasn't sure this was a good idea. This was far too close to Donovan. What if you see him? This was a bad idea on so many levels, but still she couldn't seem to leave Tate alone.
She didn't want to. Despite Donovan. She knew she had to tell Tate everything. Tell him what happened. Why she and Donovan really broke up that night. Why she didn't go meet him. No, they were having fun. It wasn't serious. He said so himself. This is temporary. She knew she couldn't keep seeing him. They both knew it would bust up in their faces. But maybe for just a little while longer.
Tate was waiting for her in his office with a big grin. “You look great.”
She glanced down her dress and flushed. “Uh, thanks.” Sliding her gaze around, she asked, “Are you sure this is okay?"
He took her hand. “Would you relax? We're just having lunch. I ordered food.” He squeezed her hand. “Fun remember?”
Cara followed reluctantly. Fun for now. Fun forever? No. Just enjoy him while it lasts. “Okay. I can go with it. Fun. My middle name. So what's all this?"
“A picnic of sorts. I figured you might not want to go out. And to be honest, I don't think I've ever had one. But my assistant came to the rescue and helped me pull it together. You like it?” He gave her an impish grin.
He looked so hopeful that it melted her heart. “Beautiful. Thank you.” Cara turned, taking in the floor to ceiling windows looking over Capitol Hill. Burgers from Capitol Burger sat under the metal lids. He had a bottle of rosé wine sitting on the white tablecloth. And there were flowers. Lots of flowers, including roses and gardenias.
“I figured a little romance never hurt anybody so ... ”
She grinned. “Romance looks good on you.”
Tate pulled her in for a kiss. When he slid his lips over hers, he held her head gently while his thumbs stroked her cheek. Her insides started a slow melt that she always felt every time he kissed her. She didn't want to give him up. She liked feeling like this: skin buzzing, body humming, heart in high-speed, thundering against her ribs.
He pulled back with a groan but didn't release her. “It is dangerous to start kissing you because then I don't want to stop.”
“Who says you have to stop?” She looped her arms around his neck.
His laugh was quick and it echoed off of the glass. “Well for starters, let me lock the door and put up the privacy frost first.”
She giggled. “Okay good call. We do tend to get a little carried away.”
He reached for a remote and pressed a button. Suddenly, the clear glass to the outer office went an opaque white. And there was a distinct click of the door. “That we do. And speaking of getting carried away, I might've done something you're not going to be happy about.”
She frowned, then stepped out of touching distance. “What's up?”
Tate leaned back against his desk, bracing himself with his hands. “You know how last night, we were talking about Gilbert and how you were trying to get a wild-card spot?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I might have made a call this morning and gotten you in to audition.”
Cara wasn't sure she heard him correctly at first. “Wait, I don't understand. When we talked last night, you said that there might be something we could do, and I told you I didn't want you to.”
“I know, but listen. I know that you didn't want me to interfere because it reminded you of how Donovan stuck his nose where it didn't belong and how he ruined things for you. But all I did was get you a shot. You do the rest. And, I wanted to make up for that. For what he did. Because, in the end, it wasn't about you, it was about me and my feelings for you. He knew I had a thing for you then. He asked you out before I could. Because he knew you would think I was him. Or he was me. Whatever. A lot of this has all been about a competition with Donovan. You got caught up in it. And I wanted to do something to rectify that.”
Damn, she wanted this, but she wanted it on her own. “But I didn't want you to. I get it; you’re an Anders. There must be people lining up to take things from you. I didn't want to be one of those people. A taker.”
His smile was slow. “And that is precisely why I wanted to give it to you. You would never ask. You deserve a shot to do what you always wanted to do. Let me help you. It's not like I can actually get you in the Gilbert Dance Company. But I can get you a chance to show everyone what you got.”
She stared at her hands. “I don't even know what to say.”
“That's the best part.” He pushed himself to standing, slowly walking over to her and then wrapping her in his warm embrace. “You don't have to say anything. All you need to do is kiss me.”
10
Tate tried to focus on his screen, but instead, his mind kept wandering to Cara and those videos they'd made of them together last night. They were currently burning a hole in his phone and all he wanted to do was close down his fucking laptop and work out some of the sexual frustration.
But he had work to do. Real work. The head of philanthropy had been open to the idea of doing a microloan program to model some work Tate had done internationally. But he also wanted to do them in the states for very small business owners. Places too small and with inventory too
low that they often were turned down for loans.
The problem was he couldn’t up his pace. Between doing his own job, Donovan’s job, and trying to get the full proposal off the ground, then of course seeing Cara, he was burning at both ends. Something had to give. But the one thing he wasn’t letting go of was Cara.
He'd managed to see her twice this week. Shit, he couldn’t get through the day without thinking about her sucking him dry in this chair the other day during lunch. Her hair falling over his lap. And then pressing her into the glass as he'd taken her from behind.
He had never been more thankful for the sound-proofing and privacy frost. He didn’t want the staff gossiping, so keeping her quiet had been fun. He should see if he could use the same methodology to keep her quiet again when he got home.
No you can’t. She has a class tonight. She was teaching at Club Prestige. Damn. He hadn't seen her in two days and he missed her. He promised they'd take it slow but that wasn't happening.
This relationship was getting out of hand. There was no way they could just have fun. It wasn’t possible. Not with the way he felt about her. And she felt it too. She had good reason to be wary, but he wouldn’t hurt her. Not like Donovan.
He still needed to keep his end of the bargain. If he didn’t want shit to blow up on the both of them, he needed to tell his brother. It wouldn’t end well. But Donovan had been spiraling for over a year and Tate couldn’t tiptoe around him forever. You can’t do his work for him either. Yeah, easier said than done.
Tate finished the report his brother was supposed to have completed two days ago and put it in with the rest of the presentation on the quarterly numbers. That meeting was at two and he wanted it done by noon so he could make the calls he had to make.
He sent them to his assistant to collate and breathed a sigh of relief. Normally the job of two wasn’t hard, but the job of three with a girlfriend was getting a little impossible. The stress was more than he could take.
After his calls, he checked his watch. He had time for a quick run on the treadmill before his meeting. Changing quickly, he managed to work a few miles in but the tension knotted just above his shoulder and he couldn’t shake it.
He dragged his phone into the adjoining bathroom and turned on his shower, intending to pull up the CNN feed as he put it on his shower stand. Instead, he clicked to his videos. A sex tape was so cliché. So stupid. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. The images pulled up of him and Cara on his couch and his dick throbbed.
Tossing off his clothes, he turned on the water, letting the hot water wash off some of the tension. He soaped up, quickly washing off the sweat before he applied extra soap to his hand as his favorite part of the video played. Cara with that god-made, perfect ass turned up in the air. Begging him to make love to her.
He stroked down and gasped as he rubbed his palm over the crown of his dick. She wasn’t even here and he was ready to go off. He closed his eyes and pictured her in the shower with him, stroking him. Pulling his orgasm from him in long strokes and teasing his balls. He imagined her mouth on him like she'd done in his office. Making him beg. Making him want her, making him crazy.
In seconds, his orgasm overtook him and he all but shouted out his release. With a shaky hand, he propped himself against the tile. He knew what he had to do to get to spend more time with her. All of this had to be out in the open.
He was talking to Donovan. Today.
His brother was late ... again. Tate did his best to hide his impatience as his father fumed behind his desk. "And your brother was aware of the time?"
Where the fuck was that slacker? Tate had told him a million damn times about the quarterly numbers meeting. This is what happens when you cover for him. "Yeah, he knows. He'll be here."
And as if on cue, Donovan busted through the doors, all swagger and charm. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bitch."
Bullshit. Donovan lived fucking around the corner. But Tate kept his mouth shut. "Okay, let’s get started. It's on your tablets. The first—"
His father interrupted him. "Before you start, Tate. Donovan, do you want to tell me why the numbers for the Brickman file were two days late? I had to make an excuse for the client."
Damn. Those had been the numbers he'd been working on this morning.
His brother answered smoothly, not missing a beat. "I'm sorry, I've had my hands full. It won’t happen again."
Tate ground his teeth. He knew that to mean that Donovan would fuck around and ask him to do it at the final hour again. But his father wasn't mollified. "And what about the write up I asked for on LMV? I expected it yesterday."
Tate blinked up, surprised. He didn’t know that their father had asked Donovan for something else. Or had he dropped the ball? Apparently truth didn't much matter to Donovan. Neither did brotherly love, because Donovan picked up the proverbial bus one-handed, grabbed Tate by the collar and shoved him under it, before letting go of the bus's front bumper. "Tate and I spoke about it; he said he'd take care of it."
"I—" Not for the first time in the last few years, Tate considered fratricide. It would be easier than dealing with his bullshit. Would be easier than protecting him. Fuck, if he didn’t give a shit about his life or his future, then why should Tate? "I have enough on my plate. I didn’t know anything about it."
He only barely managed to keep his voice even. He was so sick of Donovan's shit. "I never would have agreed to take that on."
"But you did, remember? We talked about it, and I told you how busy I was. I mean, come on, man, don’t act like this now that we're in front of the old man. Just tell him that you screwed up."
The fury bubbled under the surface with the heat of a pressure cooker. He hadn't seen Cara in days because of Donovan's shit and now this. He was going to fucking kill his brother. "You asshole—"
But their father was having none of that shit. "That is enough, the both of you." He stood and put his tablet down. "I thought giving you each a piece of the business would give you the goods to really do something with your lives. Instead, you are more grown up versions of the kids you always were. Tate, you think I haven’t known you've been covering your brother's assignments for the last six months or longer?"
Donovan took the offensive. "That's bullshit, Dad. Why are you coming down hard on me when Tate has been the one lying to everyone? The reason he's been so frazzled is he’s got some hot sidepiece. I went by his place the other night and he was kissing some girl as she got in a cab. If he's been complaining about my work ethic, it started with her. I mean, what kind of brother doesn't tell his twin about his new girlfriend?"
Tate's world stood still. Every heartbeat echoed in his head like a gong. He'd seen them.
“Shut up, Donovan." His father’s voice was low and firm. "I've had enough. You think I don’t recognize what you’re doing? I give you an assignment. You fuck around and are never in your office. I finally browbeat your secretary into telling me that you hadn’t been in all week. When you had a meeting, Tate covered. What is so important you can’t do what you need to do?"
"Dad—"
Their father put up his hand. "No. I don’t want to know. You’re a fuck up. Always have been. But I’m telling you. I’ve had enough. You don’t shape up, then you lose everything. And Tate, I swear to God, boy if you bail him out one more time, I will have your ass. You've been doing the job of two for months and you haven’t said a word. I admire your loyalty, but this is business. I expect you to cut the dead weight when you need to."
Shit. Donovan wouldn't survive on his own. "Dad. Look Donovan is right. This is my—"
"No. This is his fault. And sooner or later you'll realize you're doing him no favors. Now both of you get out. I've emailed Donovan an assignment. One he's to do himself. I want it by Friday. If you both can’t adhere to what I say, there will be some consequences. I'm done fucking around.”
As they marched out of their father's office, Tate growled under his breath, "In my office."
Donovan trudged behind but followed nonetheless. Even though both of them were pissed and silent, they managed to convey a world of meaning without speaking.
As soon as they were behind closed doors, Tate whirled on his twin. "What the fuck was that about?"
"Calm down. He's pissed, but he's not that pissed. How much of it can you cover and I'll look over the rest?"
Tate couldn’t believe what he was hearing but he knew what he had to say. "No."
"Don’t be a prick. We both know Dad wants you to do it. His precious son. You're the VP and you love this place, so run off and do as you're told. I’m heading to the club tonight." He smirked. "I'm hoping to catch Cara. Fuck, I'll wait her out if I have to. Stay there all damn night."
Tate's gut twisted.
"You really don’t get it, do you Donovan?"
"What is your problem? Usually you just shake your head at me. Say, ‘Oh Donovan,’ and you do what you always do: Be the fucking perfect son."
Tate shook his head. "No. You don’t get to do that anymore. You don’t get to act like I did something to you, or that Dad seeming to favor me is somehow my fault. Because it's not. You want to blame everyone for the shit pile you’re in. You've got no one to blame but yourself. You did this."
His brother scowled. "What’s gotten into you, Tate? You're my twin. It's you and me against the world and the shit it hands us."
"Donovan. What shit has the world ever handed you? You're a billionaire’s son. You have endless money and parents who love you. Why do you think you deserve more?"
"I'm stuck in this place for starters."
"You're pissed off because Dad insists that you work? All these years, I thought I was doing you a favor here, helping you solve a problem there. But I've been enabling you."
"Stop acting like you never got a thing out of this pretty mug. I've helped you with girls and sports and kicked asses for you."
"Fuck, Donovan. I was eleven. I haven’t needed you to do any of those things since then." He’d finally caught up in height and started putting on some muscle by the time they were thirteen. "I love you, but you fucking take advantage. I’m not going to help you this time. You're smart as shit but you refuse to work. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that. You didn’t used to be like this. You used to be my brother. At least act like you give a shit about someone other than yourself." This shit was out of hand. Way the hell out of hand.
