Billionaire Brothers 2 : Love Has A Name

by S. Ann Cole

He perfected an arched brow at me. “Is there something I should know?”

  And I chose to lie. Not lie, but say whatever I wanted. In all my adult years, I’d never had to answer to anyone for anything; and there was no way Lovello was going to take away my womanly independence and have me obediently answering when he questioned me, as if he owned me or something. “No. Nothing you need to know.”

  “Hmm. Funny,” he mused, as he reached for another piece of mango slice. “A few hours ago, I was in a meeting with a certain Jordon Livingston. Ever heard of him?”

  Holy shit …

  When I merely stared at him, immobile and speechless, he continued in an indolent tone as he munched on mango slices. “Internet millionaire? Founder of Seel shopping website? Tall, with ashy-blond hair? Still doesn’t ring a bell?”

  That idiot! What on earth did he say? Instead of answering Lovello — no, because I couldn’t answer Lovello, I turned from him and began rummaging through the fridge for vegetables to steam again. Not following his orders, just keeping busy … I told myself.

  Lovello rambled on. “He just so happened to be seated right next to me in that meeting. And you, my baby girl, called to ask what I wanted for dinner. Mr. Livingston didn’t miss your picture that flashed on my phone screen when you were calling, though.” Lovello’s lips made a loud ‘pop’ as he sucked the remnants of mango from his fingers. He could be such a dick sometimes. “Can you make more of these, babe? They’re so good.”

  The obvious play on his inflection and the words that he never, ever used like “babe” and “baby girl” made me want to start screaming again. There was just one mango slice left on the tray, but now was not the time to complain about him eating the whole thing without a thought that I might need some, too. I’d just have to grill more, as long as he continued to spill what he knew. So I grabbed a mango from the fruit basket as a silent answer to his request.

  That made him continue. “After the meeting, Mr. Livingston wanted to have a ‘private chat’ with me. A private chat that had him wanting to know just how I sustained having you as my Domme; seeing that he’d been your Sub some two years ago and had to quit because of your lack of passion, your lovelessness and your ruthless need to just punish without a reason.”

  The knife fell from my hand and skidded across the floor, but Lovello merely carried on in his leisurely tone as if nothing had happened, completely unfazed by my agitation. “You might imagine my confusion. But not wanting to have the poor sucker feel embarrassed by his misunderstanding, I feigned knowledge, thus having him spill everything. After all, he didn’t know the woman who was calling me to ask me what I wanted for dinner like a sweet and innocent girlfriend wouldn’t have told me that she was into that Domme/Sub, whips and chain shit. He couldn’t have known — like I didn’t know — that my girlfriend was a liar. He couldn’t have known — like I can’t believe — that my girlfriend would have the gargantuan balls to look me dead in the eye and lie to me.”

  I should’ve pulled that idiot’s tongue out when I had the chance. What dumb sod goes around blabbing about their very unnatural lifestyle to a total stranger? “I’m not a liar,” I whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

  “What are you, then? A phony? A fake? A cheat?” The indolence in his voice was slowly being supplanted by pique. It was evident that he was trying to steer clear of anger, though.

  “None of the above. That’s just something I used to do that I don’t do anymore. And would rather not talk about.”

  “And you didn’t think it was germane to tell me? Why would you want to keep something like this from me?”

  “Because I wasn’t a real Domme, okay? It’s not something that’s in me.”

  “You’re not making any damn sense, Axia. Why, then, would you do depraved shit like that?”

  “Because … I can’t tell you.”

  “You can’t tell me, or you don’t want to tell me?”

  “I can’t.”

  Lovello snorted and stood up from the bar stool. He stomped around the kitchen island towards me, grabbed my arm and began leading me out of the kitchen. “Well, you are. You are going to tell me. And now.”

  Unwilling to let him control me in my own house, I tried to extricate myself from his grasp, fighting and yelling for him to let me go as he hauled me towards the living area. Lovello stopped and gripped my shoulders to still me, looking me dead in the eye, his face hard, severe and … frightening. So much so that I stopped fighting instantly. “Axia, don’t push me. Tonight is not the night to throw one of your crazy fits. And if you hit me, I’ll know it’s because of your predilection for whipping around helpless men. I’m not helpless. So I won’t take it. Therefore, you’d do best to take my advice and chill the hell out.”

  He stared at me for a beat longer, daring me to retort, but I was so shaken by his threat that my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. There comes a time in a relationship when a woman is forced to acknowledge who’s the man and who’s the woman. This was one of those times for me.

  When I didn’t give a riposte, he pressed his lips in mollification, resumed his purposeful strides to the living area and sat us down on our favorite sofa. Stretching out so that his back rested against the sofa handle, he removed his shoes, shoved one long leg behind my back and set his other leg in my lap — a subtle way of caging me. As if I couldn’t just wring his big toe and run off, I inwardly snorted.

  With expectant eyes, he waited for me to continue, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Love, I told you that I can’t —”

  “Axia…” he warned.

  Zane was a celebrity, and shit like this just can’t get out. How on earth do I tell him? “You have to promise not to say anything to anyone.”

  Lovello glared at me with raised brows. “Have I ever come across to you as the kind of man who relishes in gossip? Or the kind of man who rejoices in someone else’s downfall?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. Taking a deep breath, I began. “Zane. He was the first man for me. And I loved him with all I had. I was desperate to give myself over to him, but he always insisted we wait. Strange, right? You wouldn’t have expected the most popular and desirable guy in school to play the gentleman with all kinds of chivalry when it came on to sex. But he did. Some six months into our relationship, he brought me to this den on one of his father’s neglected estates. Showed me all these canes, and manacles and chains and shit. Initially, I got scared, because I thought he wanted to do all that shit to me. But then he told me that he wanted me to do it to him. I refused at first, until he said that that was the only way he would take me — take my virginity. And that we could only be friends instead of having a relationship if I didn’t. I caved, of course. I didn’t want to lose him. And, at that time, I would’ve done anything to be with him. So … um … that’s how I got into that.”

  “And did you enjoy doing it?” Lovello’s face was impassive, as was his tone. Not a trace of anything being revealed.

  “Only when it was with him. Because, in truth, the only reason I did that stuff was because of him.”

  “What happened to your, er, relationship?”

  I swallowed. “He broke up with me. He’d found someone older who had years more experience than me. Zane was the one who trained me. But he loved pain. Brutal pain. And that person was able to provide that without him having to give instructions all the time.”

  Lovello gritted his teeth, a tic jumping in his jaw. “So, basically he just took a vulnerable young girl and introduced her to his screwed-up world, then dumped her.” He lanced hard, sulfurous eyes at me. “You claim it’s not in you and that you only did it because of him, right? So why did you continue with others?”

  Lowering my head, I began toying with the hem of his pants. “Because I was angry and needed something that would help me expel my anger. But mostly to become better at it, so he would … maybe want me again. You see, he’d broken up with me but he never really left me. He’d always been in my life, but just n
ot the way I wanted him to be. He didn’t want to be with me, but he didn’t want to be without me.”

  Lovello scoffed. “You’ve got to be shitting me. He either wants you or he doesn’t. Lemme guess, you’ve been attending to his needs even whilst he was with this other person who he dumped you for? This said person who was so much ‘better’ at it than you were?”

  He marked my silence as approval. “And you think that you were the dominant in that relationship?”

  I frowned. “Well, yeah. I’ve bee —”

  “You weren’t the dominant, Axia. He was. He manipulated you into doing what he wanted. He knows how to control you, what to say and do to get you to cave in and play the dominant so he can receive his painful pleasure. The guy’s pretty damn smart.”

  Indignation swept over me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I was the domi —”

  Lovello held up his palms in surrender to cut me off. “Whatever you say, lady. You’re the one who played the game. Not me. So you should know.”

  I dropped my eyes to where my fingers fiddled with the hem of his pants, feeling, for the first time in my life, abashed and childlike. It angered me that Lovello could strip me this bare, tear me open and see right through me.

  There was one problem, though. For years I’d always thought of myself as someone who had to have control to survive. I’d thought the person that Zane had turned me into was who I really was. But then I met Lovello, and with him I was a different person: Someone who wanted all the girly hand-holding, couch-cuddling stuff. To feel emotions and to feel cherished. Someone who got jealous to the extreme over him. Someone who wanted to submit to him — well, not without a little half-hearted fight to show some self-preservation. And my love for Lovello was not desperate and depraved like the love I had for Zane. My love for Lovello was soft, natural, vibrant, real, without the need to do anything to feel wanted by him. My love for him was slow and lingering, flowing and easy. I loved him. With all of me. I loved him.

  I looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know who I am?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know my own identity. I-I don’t think I know who I truly am. At first I was that girl with Zane, then that girl with my other Subs. Then this girl with you. Sometimes I get so confused, I … I just don’t know…”

  Lovello tugged my arms so I fell forward onto his chest. “Well, I know that you’re beautiful. Not just beautiful, but ‘oh my God she’s an illusion’ beautiful. That you’re sexy. Not just sexy, but with a one–of-a-kind body and, sweet Jesus, an ultimate ass.”

  A smile broke on my face. Trust Lovello to be jocular in serious situations.

  “I also know that outside you are determined, goal-adhered, tough, controlled and sometimes, no, most times, bitchy. But under the roof, you are all woman. Soft, caring, attentive, domesticated, sex-crazed — hmm, that I like. And deeper within, you’re emotional — though you try to hide it. Jealous — though you try to hide it. Delicate — though you struggle to hide it.” He sighed, however. “But to be honest with you, Axia, up until thirty minutes ago I trusted you with my life. Now, you can say I’m disillusioned. You disappoint me. If you can look right at me and just lie to me, I … ah, I don’t know.”

  Liquid heat burned my vision as tears threatened to roll down my cheeks. Tears of disappointment in myself. I could’ve just been honest with him. But no, he had to force me. It was less than twenty-four hours ago that I was lying here on his chest, one hundred percent sure of his trust in me, because he assured me.

  But now my lying tongue had ruined that. He should be furious. He should be ending things and telling me to fuck off. But he was still here, holding me. His heart beating at its natural pace. So maybe there was a chance. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just been honest.”

  He expelled a breath. “Would you have eventually told me if I hadn’t found out on my own?”

  And there came another chance to be honest. “No.”

  Lovello raked his fingers through my hair and tilted my head, staring down into my watery eyes. Whatever he was looking for, I hoped he found it. He lowered his head and brushed his lips across mine before slipping his tongue inside, giving me a soft, assuring kiss.

  When he parted, I laid my head on his chest again, disliking the conviction that I felt when I looked into his eyes. “You know, there’s one thing that you don’t know.”

  “And what’s that?” his deep voice rumbled, sending the strings of my tender heart vibrating.

  “That I love you.”

  XX

  I’ve always tried to avoid these types of functions because they tend to bring out the emotional side of even the most hardhearted person. Truth be told, I’ve only ever been to one wedding in my entire life, and it was of an aunt of mine some years ago. I didn’t realize that I’d been grinning throughout the entire thing, until my facial muscles began to hurt.

  A sheer white canopy intoned with gold stretched over our heads, housing decors of large gold vases stuffed with white roses, pomander balls scattered everywhere, crystal glasses and heavy silverware glistening, while the awe-inspiring sound of the maid of honor’s voice belted out the words of Celine Dion’s Power of Love. Like the majority, I sat back and watched the bride and groom as they locked themselves tightly in each other’s embrace on the dance floor, dancing their first dance which had started some fifteen minutes ago and didn’t seem as if it would be ending anytime soon.

  Sadie and Natalio’s wedding was phenomenal, which left me all but crying. Their all-white dream was held outdoors on father Nelson’s estate. The man owned so many acres of land it was impossible to believe. His acres went on for miles, and it felt as though we were in our own world at this wedding. It wasn’t a huge wedding, just close friends and family. It was, however, grander than the average ‘close friends and family’ wedding. For as it is, the wealthy tended to have tons of ‘important’ friends. One of those friends being my own father, who I’d been walking sideways like a crab all evening to avoid. Just as I’d been avoiding his calls for the past couple of days.

  Romaine had phoned me some days ago to give me the news that my father, Vince, had seen Trevillo in some restaurant with my mother all over him, and that Vince was monumentally pissed about it. Ergo, when I saw him phoning me a few hours after Romaine did, I knew he would bombard me with a barrage of questions, so I ignored him. My mother, who’d claimed her visit here was to see me, hadn’t been seen by my eyes ever since she started gallivanting with Trevillo. She’d make sporadic phone calls, promising to stop by, but never did. No bigs, though. It wouldn’t be long before she and Trevillo grew bored of each other.

  I cut my eyes over in the direction of my father, who had father Nelson yapping in his ear. When he caught me looking in his direction, he narrowed disapproving eyes at me, which made me quickly avert my eyes back to the bride and groom. Natalio was looking like a million bucks, fresh and crisp from the bank, in his all-white tux. His overgrown hair was brushed back neatly from his face, his bright blue eyes lost in the watery cognac-browns of his new wife. Sadie had changed from her fuss of a wedding dress and was now wearing a flirty, bust-enhancing white dress that whispered above her knees, her overly long hair cascading down her back in wild fluffs of curls. The couple were simply stunning.

  Natalio bent his head to whisper in her ear, and I watched as twin tears rolled down her cheeks before Natalio smiled and claimed her quivering lips. That, right there, was love spelled out in bold capitals.

  “Hello there,” came a deep voice from above me.

  The sound of the voice startled, and I snapped my head up to see Trevillo giving me one of his diabolic smiles. Everything about him was so cheeky, it wouldn’t surprise me if he told me that he and the Devil were pen pals.

  “Hi, Trev,” I answered.

  He took the seat next to me, and my eyes instinctively darted around in search of Lovello, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’d wandered off on som
e “important” phone call over thirty minutes ago and was yet to return.

  “You look bored and unimpressed, pretty thing. Wanna challenge me to another arm-wrestle? I hear that sparks tend to fly during the harshness, labored breathing and energy burning of such a challenge. Kind of like an incendiary for unknown passion. Have you heard?” he all but breathed on me, putting extra emphasis on his H’s.

  “No.”

  I swear the man was like an open flame, and if one wasn’t careful, they’d end up getting toasted. Luckily, I was made of steel and not plastic. If I didn’t already have his sex-on-a-stick brother, who sent my heart hammering on super-bass every time he so much as looked at me, I’d envy the woman who managed to bring this guy to his knees.

  “Liar,” he shot back, his eyes shimmering with that wicked gleam. “You introduced me to it.”

  “Trev,” I began on an exasperated sigh, turning to lance him a square glare. “I’m with your brother. Nothing’s gonna happen between us. On top of that, you’re nailing my mother. So just forget what you think you felt the other day. It’s not happening.”

  A frown clouded his features. “So, you and my brother, you two are, like, serious?”

  Wow. If he had to ask, then maybe Lovello wasn’t acting like he was serious about me to others. That kind of hurt. I knew I was serious about him. Now. He’d remained silent last night when I opened up my heart and told him I loved him. It’s not like I was expecting him to return the words or anything. But being asked the question by someone else, if we were serious about each other, had me wishing he’d said something back, that way I’d know where we stood as a couple. “I know I’m serious about him. I’m in love with him. You’d have to find out from your brother if he’s serious about me.”

  Trevillo rubbed his forehead. “Oh, wow. I, um, I thought you two were jus —”

  “Thought I told you to stay away from my woman, Trev?”

  We both swiveled our heads to find Lovello glowering down at Trevillo, his eyes hard and implacable. He grabbed me by my arm and pulled me up from the chair, shoving me partially behind him in a defensive gesture.