Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

  On a shrug, I hopped under the amazing rain-shower. Heavens, this felt good. I could swing by every day just to use this shower, or maybe I could install my own. Some fifteen minutes had ticked by before I decided to let the shower be and headed to finished freshing up.

  When I emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and revived, I cursed myself for not thinking ahead in bringing an overnight bag. Boxers and T-shirt would have to suffice until I could get home to change for work. Glancing around the man’s vast bedroom, I tried to guess which piece of furniture he stored his boxers in.

  I padded towards a chest of drawers and slammed it shut the very second I opened it. Panties? I opened the drawer to double-check and slammed it shut again. Yep, they’re panties. I opened the second drawer. Bras? Yep, they’re bras. Slamming the drawer shut, I began fumbling around for my clothes from last night.

  Silly me for thinking that the stuff in the bathroom was bought for me. The man was a notorious liar. He claimed he’d never brought any women here before, but clearly, not only has a woman been here, but — hold that thought. I ran towards the closet and wrenched open the doors. Yep, you can let go of that thought now. Someone lived here with him.

  Walking into the closet, which more resembled a mini-boutique, I stared in disbelief at the lines of women’s clothing that consumed the entire left side of the closet. Rows of shoes: thigh-highs, sandals and sneakers. Top-brand handbags lined off on the top shelf. And a semicircular vanity in the corner with MAC make-up products and various hair accessories.

  My skin felt like as if it had been flayed as my heartbeat galloped. Turning to what was his side of the closet, I eyed the rows of color-coordinated suits and shoes. Neatly folded sweaters and jeans. Hats and leather jackets, neatly coiled belts. The typical. Knowing the mess of a man that he was, it was either Rosa or his mystery woman who kept this closet tidy.

  I darted back into the bedroom, dragged on my clothes in record time, grabbed my handbag and fled the room. How did I end up being this imbecilic? Love had made me idiotic. I’d known and had also been warned that Lovello was not the type of man to fall in love with. Nevertheless, I’d recklessly done just that.

  Halfway down the hall, I collided with a hard wall of male. “Whoa, slow down, beauts. What’s the rush? Is the gym on fire?”

  Avoiding his eyes, I tried to sidestep him. “No, I just … gotta go.”

  But he wouldn’t let me. “Beauts, are you okay?”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Fearing that I might do that abominable, girl-like thing called ‘crying’. Axia Blacksille didn’t cry. Especially over a man. “Yes, I’m fine. Will you excuse me, please?”

  The sigh that he emitted said that he was growing impatient, but I didn’t give a heck. He held my chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my face so I could look at him. “What. Is. It. Now. Axia?”

  “You couldn’t have told me?”

  “Tell you what, Axia?”

  “That you live with someone…”

  Lovello’s face frowned in bewilderment. “That I live with someone? What in God’s good name are you talking about? Aren’t you the one here with me?”

  Knocking his hand away from my chin, I swung my handbag straight at his face. “Stop treating me like you think I’m a damn imbecile!” Smack! “Half your closet is consumed with her stuff!” Smack! “Your drawers, your bathroom!” Smack! “And you have me right in the center of it, just like another one of your bimbos!” Smack! “I am not…” Smack! “a brainless bitch!” Smack! “I’m a woman!” Smack! Smack! “A woman!”

  Lovello’s self-control seemed to wane as his anger waxed. He grabbed the swinging handbag from my hand and tossed it down the hallway, causing it to land with a loud clatter as all its contents scattered about. When I started to pound my fists at his chest, he grabbed my hands and shook me so hard that my eyeballs jiggled in their sockets. That made me wide-eyed and inert.

  “Yes, Axia. You are a woman. A crazy woman who needs to see a goddamn psychiatrist!” he bellowed, his deep voice echoing down the hall and reverberating through the walls. Weals began forming on the side of his face that I’d abused with my handbag.

  Lovello swerved me to the side, pinning me against the wall with his hips and restraining my hands by planting them to my sides. “How is it possible for me to live with someone here when I was living at your house for almost three weeks? Do you think so little of me to believe that I would have some ‘bimbo’ sleeping in the bed that I share with my woman and using her stuff? That I would give you all the information to the home where I lived with another woman? Oh, and where the hell is the woman?”

  He had a point. But … “So how do you explain the stuff?”

  Lovello sent his eyes heavenward. “Jesus, Axia, are you that dense? They’re yours.“

  “Mine? But … how?”

  Vibrating with exasperation, he hauled me off toward the bedroom, while using his free hand to feel the weals on his face. “I swear to God, Axia. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into with you. You’re more than a handful.”

  “I wonder the same about you, too. All the time,“ I whispered in a meek voice. But Lovello only glanced back at me over his shoulder with a cold stare and shook his head.

  Pulling me into the closet, he stood on the left side where all the female things were. “Just look and tell me, Axia. Aren’t these all brand new things with tags? Aren’t all these things your style of clothing?”

  Gliding my eyes over the apparels, I saw the tags that my stupid eyes didn’t let me see earlier. That there were no dresses. Thigh-highs as the only heels — because those were the only heels that I did wear. Loafers that I absolutely loved, sneakers and sandals — all that was my style. Well, once again I was left feeling stupid. But how did he know what to get? “Who —”

  “My cousin, Lori — with information from your housekeeper about your size and such — arranged this wardrobe for you. Lori’s a lot more shrewd than you think. She detected that you’re not a dress person, so…” Lovello went to the end of a rack, pulled off a brown garment bag and laid it down on a black leather bench situated in the middle of the closet. “I picked your dress for the wedding.” He stood back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for me to take a look.

  Murdering the cat with curiosity, I unzipped the garment bag and lifted out a flowing, ivory silk dress which had straps made of rhinestones. I peeked up at my genius and he smirked back at me. Of course, he made a brilliant pick. There were no frills, no twisty fuss, no leg splits, no bows, lace or puffs. Just simple elegance, with the rhinestones being that small touch of fuss. This is how you get a reluctant woman to wear a dress. “You want your pound of flesh, don’t you?”

  He chuckled, and I was glad that his anger had subdued. “From you? Hell, yes.”

  Placing the dress back in the garment bag, I made a tsk tsk sound. “I would, Mr. Nelson. But I’m afraid you’ve made one tiny error. You see, this dress is ivory, which makes it too close to the bride’s color. I’m pretty sure the bride wants to be the only one in white.”

  Lovello laughed as an expression fleeted across his face as if he were remembering something. “Trust me, if it was up to the bride, you’d be wearing a rainbow-colored dress. You should’ve heard the argument Sadie and Natalio had about the color code for their wedding,” he said, shaking his head and laughing as if the argument was one that would never be forgotten. “Of course, my brother won. It’s an all-white wedding, beauts. So stop finding excuses and give me my damn pound of flesh.”

  “I will, but not the way you want.” I stepped up to him and threw my hands around his neck. “I want to give you your pound of flesh in a more physical way.”

  Lovello’s eyes darkened and his lids lowered, but he remained obdurate. “I’m still mad at you, Axia. I can’t believe you’d think —”

  “I’m sorry, okay? I was just … I didn’t think you’d buy an entire wardrobe for me and have it here where
I don’t even live. Why’d you do this anyway?”

  “Because I want you to feel at home when you’re here. I want you to never have to leave here to go home for anything, because you already have everything here. I want to share my space with you.”

  “And how did you know I was even gonna use the address?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  His lips quirked. “Call me The Optimist.”

  “I’d say you’re too damn sure about yourself.”

  “That, too.”

  “Can I kidnap you for the day, Pretty Boy?”

  He locked me against him and circled his hips. “Maybe for an hour. I have to work and you have a commercial shoot in two hours.”

  Mierda. I’d forgotten about that entirely. When Lovello felt my body stiffen, he laughed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  I groaned. “Yeah. Maybe if your brother wasn’t so damn bossy about it…”

  “That’s Natalio for ya. I’m surprised he even called you and not just show up at your doorstep demanding you come with him.”

  My head fell back as a laugh bubbled its way up my throat and through my mouth. “That’s exactly what I said to him! Asked him why’d he even bothered to call me and not just show up at my doorstep.”

  Lovello chortled as he nosed my hair, then breathed a heavy sigh. “Axia?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I need you to trust me and stop flipping out at me every two seconds, okay? You’re all I’m about. You make my mind calm — well, until you start yelling and throwing things at me.”

  “I can’t promise you that I will,” I whispered in his chest. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “But you must.”

  Te Amo … so … “I’ll try.”

  “And you just accepted everything?” Tish butted in, as I regaled Trudy of last night to this morning’s events.

  We were at Natalio’s commercial shoot, and Trudy and I were blabbing our faces off as a make-up artist did retouches in an attempt to conceal Lovello’s most recent bite marks. Trudy’s boss, my lover, had granted her request to leave at noon so she could come to the shoot. Advantages.

  Though we ignored Tish, she prodded on, “Doesn’t that make you feel —”

  “Cheap? Like she wants him for his money?” Trudy snapped, before Tish could finish or I could even answer. She was a tad more acidic than necessary, and the tension between her and Tish all day hadn’t gone unnoticed. But I’d merely pretended not to notice, because I conjectured that Tish had started hitting on Trudy and Trudy was probably annoyed by it. Whatever it was, I wasn’t about to ask. “In case you haven’t noticed, my friend’s worth millions. She doesn’t need Nelson’s money. If there’s something Nelson can afford that she can’t, her daddy can!”

  Tish’s face grew ashen. “I-I didn’t mean … I’m only —”

  “It’s okay, Tish,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Trudy who was firing ice pellets at Tish with her eyes. Something major had gone down between these two. “I’m not the type of girl who cries, ‘oh, I can’t take this. It’s too much’ or ‘you shouldn’t buy me stuff, it makes me feel cheap’. Why? Because it’s obvious to the man that I’m independent and can afford whatever I want. Therefore, if he buys me something, it’s because he wants to do something nice for me, not because he pities me. And to turn down his effort is an insult.” I uncorked a bottle of vitamin water and took a few gulps, then continued. “What most women don’t seem to understand is that a man needs to feel like the man. And sometimes just throwing your arms around him with a resounding ‘thank you’, or even feigned excitement with whispered words like ‘you’ve made me the happiest woman in the world’ is just what a man needs from a woman, so he can buff his chest and feel like the man that he is. You don’t ever want a man to feel like he’s helpless with you. He’ll only leave or cheat on you with the woman who makes him feel like Hercules. Like the king of her world.”

  “Amen!” sang the stylist over my head, causing everyone to direct their stares towards her. She rolled her large eyes and gave an exaggerated shake of her pixie-haired head. “That’s exactly what I’d been trying to tell a friend of mine, but she wouldn’t listen. Waiting tables and living in a dingy ass apartment, she’d been fortunate enough to catch the eyes of a self-made millionaire. And every goddamn time the man buys her something, she whines about how cheap it makes her feel and that she thinks he’s pitying her, blah blah blah. He tries to buy her an apartment and not even that the stupid woman would accept. The man soon got fed up and left her for a struggling model who was all too willing to accept everything he had to offer. I swear some girls are just dumb. Don’t know a blessing when it comes.”

  The stylist seemed peeved beyond measurement, as if she wished it was her who’d met the man. Trudy and my gazes met as we stifled our laughs. “I know right, so dumb,” I said for humor, which made Trudy burst into a fit of giggles.

  The director hollered for me and I was off to shooting again.

  On my third break, where I was finally allowed to eat — yeah, I’d been restricted from eating because they claimed it would make my stomach look ‘bloated’ — I resumed chattering with Trudy in order to take my mind off the annoying demands of this shoot. But not much later I was being aggravated when a certain person appeared.

  “Hi there, stepdaughter.”

  Dressing my features in a full-on scowl, I raised my gaze to the vanity mirror in front of me to meet the eyes of the bumptious Trevillo who was standing behind my chair with his face smothered in smugness. “Hello, dick.”

  Leaning down, he placed his hands on either side of the vanity, caging me, then rested his chin on my shoulder with his eyes still locked on mine in the mirror, as he tutted. “You need to have a bit more respect for your elders, little lady. I could be your real stepfather one day, you know.”

  I jerked my shoulders in a back-the-hell-up gesture. That only served to make him emit a sinister-like chuckle as he grabbed a firm fistful of my hair, tugged my head backward and stared down at me with a nefarious gleam in his eyes. “If you weren’t already my brother’s, I’d tether you up on that lovely wooden cross in my bedroom and show you just how much of a woman you are, and just how much of a man I am.”

  Tearing his hand away from my hair, I shot up to my feet and spun around to face him. He was almost a foot taller than me, but I wasn’t intimidated. “Do you really want to prove how much of a man you are, Nelson?”

  Trudy emitted a long sigh behind me, accompanied by an “oh dear”. In that same minute, Natalio barged into the room demanding to know what’s the deal. But neither Trevillo nor I glanced in his direction. Trevillo was gazing down at me with mild amusement, while I was glaring up at him with pure hatred.

  “What do you have in mind, little miss? I have a penthouse just two blocks away. Chains, cuffs, whips and all that shit, baby. Just for you.”

  “What the hell, Trev?” Natalio shouted.

  But he was yet again ignored.

  “That sounds very tempting, Kinky Boy,” I smooth-talked. “But first, you have to earn that luxury.”

  Trudy, ahead of everyone else in knowing exactly where this was heading, had disappeared, and was now bustling back into the room with the help of some unknown guy as they shoved a high-table between us. Trevillo glanced down at the table with a quizzical lift of his brow.

  “If you can beat me in an arm-wrestle, then you get to show me the many other ways you’re a ‘man’.”

  Trevillo looked at me with incredulity, then shifted his eyes over to Natalio. But Natalio merely folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, ready for the show. Trevillo shifted his eyes back to me and burst out laughing. “You want to challenge me into an arm-wrestle? Are you serious?”

  When I folded my arms across my chest without so much as a hint of humor, Trevillo noted my seriousness and shrugged, removing his jacket and pushing his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. “Okay. You asked for it. My little brother can kiss that sexy roun’ ass of yours goo
dbye.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Men: always feeling the need to put on a show. Cricking of the neck from side to side, muscling up the arms, cricking the fingers. Ugh. So typical.

  Natalio shuffled in his pocket for his cellphone as he laughed. “This has got to be recorded. Better not lose, Trev, or I’ll ruin you with this video.”

  Already set in position, I waited for Trevillo to complete his pointless warm-up. By this time, everyone had gathered around in the dressing room, phones pointing towards us. But Tish and Trudy merely sat back with knowing smirks on their faces. They knew this was my forte.

  Trevillo finally set his arm in place, clasping his hand with mine. Trudy counted down, and set us off. Planting a smile on my face, I watched as Trevillo channeled all his energy in the aim of bringing my hand down, lacking the knowledge that the trick was to stay concentrated on keeping his hand stationed upright. When his veins started bulging and he began straining, I knew his strength was almost out. This was the time to take him down. “Make sure you get this, Natalio,” I squeezed out. And in one go, I slammed Trevillo’s hand down.

  The room erupted into a disbelieving clamor, while Trevillo shouted, “Rematch!”

  “Really?” I snorted. Men: they could never own up to losing. Heaving a sigh, I repositioned my hand. “Okay. But lemme give you a tip so it can feel more like a challenge this time. Concentrate, Kinky Boy. Concentrate. Think palm tree against the storm. They bend, but they never break.”

  Trevillo narrowed his wicked blue eyes at me, looking way too hot with his new determined expression. These brothers were unrighteously gorgeous. It wasn’t fair to women.

  Realizing that my mind had drifted out of the game, I quickly snapped a lid on my wayward thoughts. Trevillo clasped my hand again, his eyes locked on mine, his sharp jaws clenched. He had a new aim.

  Trudy counted down again and set us off.