Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

  Natalio’s angry face rearranged itself into a deep frown, as if not used to his brother being so scary. He almost looked apologetic, but Lovello gave him no time to speak as he pressed his palms hard on Natalio’s chest and gave him a mighty shove through the door, then slammed it and turned the lock.

  Lovello breezed past me with giant steps back to the living area as if I weren’t even there, while I remained in the foyer wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with myself. He was so infuriated, I was afraid to even blink, thinking he might take his anger out on me.

  As I thought about fetching something from the fridge for him to drink in the hope of cooling him down, the doorbell rang again, followed by a light knocking instead of heavy banging this time.

  “Don’t answer it, Axia!” I heard Lovello bark from the living area.

  The correct thing to do, because of his anger, was to obey. But this side of Lovello scared me, and I knew it was because he was deeply wounded. Lovello cherished Natalio like no other, and to have this person whom he loved so much accusing him must have been painful. Also, it was obvious in the last two seconds that Natalio had realized the hurt he’d inflicted on his brother; his anger had dissipated entirely. I didn’t want the two brothers to be at war with each other or to have any protracted fury left to fester. And the problem, which I suspected was a missing Sadie, would never be solved if they didn’t have the support of each other.

  On that thought, therefore, I ignored Lovello’s order and opened the door, revealing a contrite Natalio running a long-fingered hand through his silky, dark hair. Stepping aside for him to enter, I jerked my head in the direction of the living area, then followed suit as he stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and made a beeline to where Lovello sat fuming on the large, red sofa, watching a muted television.

  “You never goddamn listen, Axia,” he ground out, without looking in our direction.

  Choosing not to reply, I stole away to the furthest corner of the room, leaving the two brothers to sort their crap out.

  “Love, brother, I’m sorry,” Natalio started in a calmer tone, as opposed to his harsh barking a few minutes ago. “I’m just mad, agitated and frightened, okay? I didn’t want to ask you for help because I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being right. Again. I’ve never seen you this angry before and I —”

  “How did you even get past Bill?” Lovello snapped, cutting him off, showing no care for his brother’s apology.

  “Trev.”

  Lovello’s teeth gritted so hard I could almost hear them from where I stood. “And Trev is … ?”

  “Outside.”

  Lovello gave a contemptuous snort, then spoke through a screen of sarcasm. “Outside, huh? Interesting. Very interesting. “

  What on earth was going on with these brothers? Was I missing something? Everyone had seemed perfectly well and good today.

  “Hey, this is about my girl, okay? Your girl is in here with you. My girl is missing, two damn days before the wedding.”

  “And you think I helped her leave you. So why aren’t you out looking for her with your brother and your gangsters? What’re you doing here chatting up her accomplice? Go on, you and Trev can drive around and grumble about how much of a ‘know it all’ I think I am. When you find your runaway bride, let me know.”

  Natalio shifted on his feet, agitation marring his handsome features. “Are you going to be a dick all night, Love? I need your help and you’re damn well making me beg for it.”

  “So now you’re asking me to be a renegade? First I’m on her side and now I’m supposed to just be a turncoat and hop on yours?”

  “Christ, Love, I said I’m sorry! Could you just quit being a supreme douche and call her? She’ll answer you.” Natalio frustratingly dropped himself down on a sofa chair opposite his brother. “She won’t answer anyone, and Kelsy’s not letting off. She’s not by her mother’s, I checked. I don’t know if she’s still here in SF, if she’s in L.A., New York or wherever. She left earlier than usual for work this morning. I made nothing of it because of her prolonged sulking: she refuses to tell me what about. I went home this evening and … she’s gone.” Natalio rubbed his eyes, looking overly distraught. “She’ll answer you, Love. She tells you every damn thing.”

  “She won’t answer me,” Lovello said stubbornly.

  Natalio lifted his eyes to burn his brother with a fiery glare. “I want so badly to bash your fucking head in right now for being a total ass. If only you weren’t my brother…”

  Lovello bit down on his lower lip, struggling to suppress a smile and taunting his brother with a jeering expression.

  “Don’t laugh at me, Love, you’ll only piss me off further,” Natalio said, pointing a finger in his brother’s face, but the humor that colored his voice betrayed the austerity of his threat. Until he chuckled. There was no way on earth to maintain anger around a jovial Lovello. Whenever he smiled, the world seemed brighter.

  Lovello collected his cellphone from the coffee table, punched a few keys, then waited as the other end started ringing on speaker. When the call merely rang out, he smirked. “See?”

  “Ring her again,” Natalio snapped, tapping his right foot nervously.

  Lovello rang again and a hoarse-voiced Sadie picked up on the first ring. “Love?”

  “Hi, Rainbow,” Lovello greeted in a smooth voice. “My brother told me you hit the tracks. Threatened to bash my head in for helping you.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Sadie spat, her voice breaking at the end.

  “I know,” Lovello agreed, casting a smug glance at his brother, who was by then chomping on his thumbnail. “But you did it wrong, you know. You ruined the script by running two days before the wedding. Julia Roberts is probably pissed as hell at you right now. You should’ve let the asshole walk to the altar first. That’s when you run. On a horse, in a FedEx truck, a hot-air balloon…”

  Sadie made a raspy laugh. She almost had no voice, as if she’d been crying for days. “Thank you, Love.”

  “For what?”

  “Making me smile for the first time all day.”

  Lovello ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Where are you, Rainbow?”

  “I’m in —” she stopped short. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

  “I can’t promise you that. This is stupid. Running away won’t solve anything. You love him and he loves you twice as much. What do you hope to achieve from this?”

  “He loves his billions and myriads of businesses more than he does me. He’s always out of the country, Love. He’s not budging on his decision to take over ZIFT in Japan…” she sniffed. “What kind of husband would he be then? What kind of father would he be to his children?” She broke down and started crying. “How do I know that in all those times he’s away, he isn’t screwing around on me when his cock calls for attention? Maybe with those tight-ass, gray-suit bitches who he works with. How can I ever feel like I’m the center of my husband’s universe, when half the time I’m not in his freakin’ radius?!” More sniffling and crying. “He’s not ready for marriage or a family. He can wait maybe until some chronic illness like cancer starts eating into his bones, or when his overused jet spirals from the sky during one of his ‘oh so important’ business trips and lends him a near-death experience. Oh, scratch that, I forgot he already had one of those near-death experiences! Then maybe when his —”

  “Rainbow, calm down,” Lovello defused.

  By this time, Natalio was pacing the length of the room, back and forth, running a hand through his hair repeatedly.

  “Come home. You and your fiancée need to talk about this. Just tell me wher —”

  “Talk?” Sadie yelled hoarsely. “Have you met your brother? There’s no talking with him. His domineering ways won’t allow him to listen to anything I have to say!”

  Lovello rubbed his forehead, seeming overwhelmed by the entire situation. “Sadie, do you want to be with my brother?”

  Her vo
ice was almost inaudible. “Yes.”

  “Because you love him, right?”

  “More than my next breath.”

  “Do you want to cancel the wedding?”

  And then there was silence. A heavy, burdensome silence. It took a millennium for her to answer. “Jesus, no. No. No, I don’t.”

  “Then come home, Rainbow.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. The sound of keys jingled in the background and her breathing kicked up as if she were moving fast. “Okay, I will.”

  “See you soon, then?”

  “I’m in L.A. at Kelsy’s parents’ house. I’ll book a flight for tomorrow morning.” The woman started crying again. “Oh God, I promised him I wouldn’t run from him again. Do you think he hates me now?”

  Lovello’s eyes glanced over to a room-pacing, nail-nibbling, agitation-ridden Natalio, and he tried to smother a smile. “I highly doubt it, Rainbow.”

  It was amazing to see how love could unnerve a man as intimidating and forceful as Natalio. Love had unlimited power, I found out that night, to reduce the strongest and mightiest to powerlessness.

  As soon as Lovello wrapped up the call, Natalio bolted towards the front door.

  “And what idiotic move are you going to make now?” Lovello asked with a shake of his head.

  “I’m gonna get her myself,” Natalio replied simply.

  “Damage control, dude. Give the woman a breather. Let her overthink things. Let her have all that thinking time as she goes to sleep tonight and travels tomorrow. Overthinking will have her believing she’d been wrong in a lot of areas where she was actually right. And that can only be good for you, since you’re the one who messed up. When she’s back, all thought-out and calmed down, she’ll be in a clear frame of mind to talk to you without feeling intimidated or pressured. So just go home, have yourself a glass of scotch and chill the hell out.”

  Natalio made a disgusted face at Lovello, and actually rolled his eyes as he muttered, “I hate the shit out of you,” then disappeared through the door.

  It was ridiculous how exhausted I felt, even though I was just an onlooker. I could only imagine those who are a part of the situation. What I’d discovered a few weeks ago, about Lovello having keen discernment, was now clear to me that it was an intrinsic quality he possessed, and was seemingly despised for it. His shrewd judgment was awe-inspiring.

  As I made my way over to the sofa where he was now sprawled out and rubbing his forehead with his eyes closed, I kept remembering Natalio’s words: ‘this is about my girl, okay? Your girl is in here with you‘, and Lovello’s tenseness at the mention of Trevillo being outside. Did he see the video or did Natalio tell him?

  He hadn’t said a thing to me about my arm-wrestling encounter with Trevillo at the commercial shoot. But it was clear, based on Natalio’s words, that there was tension between the two. And the fact that Trevillo had stayed outside the entire time strengthened my conjecture.

  As I snuggled up beside Lovello on the sofa, feeling his arms automatically tighten around me, I tried to receive confirmation in a furtive approach. Landing a soft kiss among the small scatter of hairs on his chest, I asked, “Did I tell you that Trev came by the shoot today?”

  Lovello stilled, then gave a perfunctory, “No.”

  I wasn’t deterred. “Oh. Well he did. And I challenged him to an arm-wrestle. Kicked his ass twice. Did Natalio show you the video?”

  A full sixty seconds passed before I realized he wasn’t going to answer. I knew that he saw it. And knew also that he saw more than just the wrestling.

  A slimy feeling crept over me. What happened to me with Trevillo was something that would happen to any breathing woman, I’m sure. That didn’t mean I wanted the guy. Did Lovello think I’d go for his brother? I couldn’t even stand Trevillo and his irreverent self. And the fact that he was sleeping with my mother made it all the worse.

  I breathed a heavy sigh. Lovello asked me this morning to trust him, and I’d really appreciated it if he would do the same. But then I thought about that fact, that he hadn’t said anything at all to me about it. So maybe he did trust me? Just not his brother? Maybe that was why he needed to hear me complete my sentence earlier?

  Lovello tightened his arms around me again, and kissed the top of my head as I lapped one leg around his. Yep, he trusted me.

  “Will you read to me again?” I whispered.

  Without hesitation, he recovered the Bible from the coffee table and started reading in gentle tones to me. “A gentle answer deflects anger, but harsh words make tempers flare. The tongue of the wise makes knowledge appealing, but the mouth of a fool belches out foolishness. If you listen to constructive criticism, you will be at home among the wise. If you reject discipline, you only harm yourself…”

  XIX

  The following night, I was in the kitchen whipping up a meal of seared Mahi Mahi with grilled mango slices and steamed vegetables, when I heard the opening and closing of the front door which signaled Lovello’s arrival. When a minute passed and he didn’t appear in the kitchen, I deemed it odd because, one: The first thing that’s normally on Lovello’s mind when he gets in from work is food. And two: By request, I was preparing one of his favorite dishes.

  While I continued slicing lemons, I listened as his footsteps echoed off the porcelain tiles and aimed down the hall — to the very end of the hall, where that third room used to be The Room. I listened as the door opened then closed some ten seconds after. Of all the times he’d been here, he’d never showed any interest whatsoever in the third bedroom of the house. We slumbered in my master bedroom and he did his devotions upstairs in the guest bedroom. So this sudden interest in the neglected third room at the end of the hall, which used to be my den of debasement, was rather eerie.

  For some reason, my heartbeat sped off on an erratic tattoo, drumming harder with each step his feet made back up the hall and towards the kitchen. There was something nudging at me, telling me that I should be worried. Lovello strolled into the kitchen, wearing his favorite expression of no expression while undoing his necktie. He didn’t speak right away. Just removed his tie, coiled it neatly and set it down on a bar stool at the same time as he occupied the stool next to it. He then removed his suit jacket and set it down, also with gentle care.

  If that peculiar and uncharacteristic behavior wasn’t a harbinger that something was wrong, then I don’t know what was. Lovello didn’t do neat and gentle when he unclothed himself. The real Lovello would have his suit jacket laying limply somewhere between the front door he came through and the kitchen. And his necktie would be found somewhere on the stove top next to the open flames. To top it off, he was ominously quiet.

  Nevertheless, I maintained a casual composure and continued adding the finishing touches to dinner, watching him from the corners of my eyes as he removed his wristwatch and pocket bearings, setting them down with precise care on the countertop. At one point I almost laughed out, thinking this had to be a joke.

  When I finally turned to ask him if he was ready to eat, I found him with his hands steepled under his chin, his impassive slate-grays almost nailing me to the kitchen wall. We had a stare-off for a few moments, as I tried to decipher what on earth he was about this evening.

  Lovello broke the silence by asking, “When you bought this house, it came fully furnished, didn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I know. Trev doesn’t sell unfurnished houses.”

  Sooo … ? What’s he getting at?

  He brought his steepled fingers to his lips, swaying his head back and forth so his fingers rubbed against his agonizingly sexy lips. “But that third room at the end of the hall, it’s empty. Stark. And the walls are painted such a dark purple…” He trailed off, gazing at me with expectant eyes that said I was supposed to pick up where he trailed off and finish by explaining why the room was empty.

  Did he know? Impossible. Maybe he was just screwing with me. “I was planning on using the s
pace for something…”

  “Like a workout space?”

  Okay, now I was positive he was screwing with me: he knew I already had a basement gym. “No.”

  “Then, what?”

  There wasn’t a plausible lie that I could come up with yet. As a matter of fact, I didn’t owe him an explanation. It was my damn house. Therefore, I ignored his question, because I was my own woman. “Are you ready to eat? Or do you wanna continue playing twenty-one questions?”

  “What did you put in it?” he asked, without even a hint of humor.

  Was he serious? “In what? The room or the food?”

  “Both.”

  Now I was enraged. “If you don’t trust me enough to think I’d put something in your food — God forbid whatever that might be and for whatever reason — then you can just leave my keys and walk your despicable ass out of here!” I yelled, tossing the pot of steamed vegetables down the sink. I reached for the Mahi Mahi, but before I could dump it, Lovello’s unwavering voice halted me.

  “You toss it, Axia, and you’re only gonna end up spending time redoing that meal. Because I want my dinner. You might as well start replacing those veggies you just tossed.” His voice was so calm and controlled, and his demeanor unperturbed, that I was irked to the point of wanting to throw the damn thing in his face. Who was he to think that he could control me and tell me what to do?

  “I don’t have to do jack-shit!” Yet, my hands didn’t back up my words, because they didn’t make a move to dump the Mahi Mahi.

  As if I hadn’t spoken, Lovello reached over the kitchen counter, took up a slice of grilled mango from the tray and began nibbling on it. Then he continued, disregarding my bitch fit. “So, are you going to tell me what was in the room?”

  What did he know? What wasn’t he telling me? Was this some kind of test of honesty? Because I didn’t do very well at those. “What do you know?”