I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series)

by Cole, S. Ann

  Looking up at in him disbelief, I tried to let him understand what happened. “Trev, I just had another man’s cock inside me.”

  “It’s not enough to make me stop wanting you.”

  “Are you seriou — ”

  In the next second, he moved in and pinned me against the wall. “Listen to me, Krissan. They say you can’t choose who to love. I say that’s bullshit. They say love just happens by surprise. I say that, too, is bullshit. Because I chose you. I chose to make you mine, and now I’m choosing to love you. To love you and love you fucking hard and unswervingly. And I’m gonna make damn sure you love me back. I choose you, Krissan. You. And I swear I’ll damage anyone who tries to stop that. You’re chosen. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

  Holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he tilted my head up so that my eyes aligned with his. “This thing between us, is until death. What happened here tonight, is never gonna happen again, because I’m taking you with me, and I’m never letting you out of my sight. I’ll give you a new position at TDR flexible enough so you are with me whenever I have to leave the country. Wherever I go, you go. We only get one chance to fuck up. I used up my chance Monday, and you used yours up tonight. We get no more chances. Now, things get real fucking serious.”

  “But how — ”

  “That’s it.” He scooped me up off the ground and into his arms, then marched out the door. “You’ve had more than one chance to pack your stuff.”

  He made long, steady strides down the driveway to his car, opened the passenger side door, and buckled me in. As he made to close the door, I stuck my foot out. I couldn’t just leave the house with nothing at all. Plus, I was still holding my goddamn panties in my hand!

  “Let me at least get my workbag? I’m still working on a project for you, Trev, remember? So I need my laptop and order sheets. It’s not an excuse to run, I swear. I just need my stuff for work.”

  He watched me with a distrustful gleam, then said, “Tell me where the bag is, I’ll go get it.”

  I sighed in resignation. “On the armchair in my bedroom. Oh, and bring — ”

  Trevillo pushed my foot back into the car and slammed the door in my face. I folded my arms with a huff and sat back in the car seat.

  Everything had just turned into one big clusterfuck. I didn’t even know how to go about fighting Trevillo’s hostile takeover of my life. But I also wasn’t arguing about leaving because I was unsure of how things were going to work out with me and Jahleel. How would we go back to who we were after what happened?

  Then there was Trevillo who’d just shrugged his shoulders at me cheating on him. As if it was no big deal.

  The night had taken a drastic turn and dove straight into a sea of confusion and incredulity. Two love confessions. One ruined a relationship, and one patched up another.

  On the bright side —

  I didn’t get to complete the thought, proving there was no ‘bright side’ to this night, because there was the sound of the car door behind me opening, and before I could even turn my head, a strong-scented cloth covered my nose and mouth. In the next second, I blanked out.

  Chapter 27

  T. Nelson

  Taken

  There was a hole in his head.

  The image of Krissan’s legs wrapped around Jahleel’s waist, and the sound of her soft, breathy voice moaning as he thrust inside her burned a hole into Trevillo’s head. And he knew the hole was going to be there, unpatched, for a long, long time. Maybe even for life.

  But, he was willing to deal with it.

  He was willing to deal with the fact another man had screwed his woman, just as he had unremorsefully screwed other men’s women. It was his retribution. Karma was one nasty, cock-sucking, revenge-seeking bitch. And if she were ever fleshly, he’d fuck her, too. Then shoot her.

  In the head.

  Bitch.

  Trevillo had driven straight to Krissan’s house the minute he stepped off his jet, returning from his grueling trip to the BVI. He couldn’t have gotten there fast enough. He missed her and needed to see her.

  He loved her.

  As he’d begun his walk up her driveway, his head down, hands in his pockets while he thought about what he’d say to her when he saw her, a crying woman bumped into him then quickly muttered her apologies and tried to go around him. He gripped her arm to stop her and question the reason for her tears, but when she looked up at him, he recognized her as the infamous Pop/Rock artiste Saskia Day. He remembered seeing her leave the house a couple of weeks ago.

  With red, swollen eyes, she looked up at him and as recognition glittered across her face, she shook her head and warned him in her accented voice thick with emotion, “You might not wanna go in there … ” Then she left.

  Striated with agitation, Trevillo went ahead anyway through the front door left ajar, and at the first sound of Krissan’s intimate urgency, the hole started to burn in his head …

  One factor that helped him cope with this, was knowing what Krissan didn’t know he knew. He stood in the entryway of the kitchen long enough, watching them, to realize she used Jahleel as a substitute for him. Long enough to have heard her whisper, “I love you, too, Trev.”

  That’s all he’d needed to hear. His name.

  So instead of grabbing Jahleel to beat the sister-loving shit out of him, stuff Krissan in the fucking oven and turn the heat up so she’d burn to crisps, then set their house on fire … he’d simply turned around, went back out the door, quietly closed it, and rang the doorbell.

  Krissan had saved their lives and didn’t even know it.

  She’d been thinking about him. She did it for revenge.

  Trevillo knew it was wrong trying to justify what Krissan did, but it was helping him with the harrowing pain.

  He was an asshole, he knew. And life wasn’t ever kind to assholes. Life gave everyone their fair share of shit according to how they themselves dish it out to others. He couldn’t have possibly believed after all of his sins and debauchery, using and manipulating people, God would just send him some sweet little girl who’d be too innocent and pure to fuck him over.

  Not him.

  For rest of the world, life did good for them, life came around for them, life gave them chances. But for him, he had to do good for himself. He had to go his own route because life’s favorable wind never blew in his direction, and he had to make his own choices and take his own chances. Life hated the shit out of him, yet it couldn’t do what it wanted to do and leave him. Screw it. He’d love when he was ready to love. He’d die when he was ready to die.

  Trevillo entered Krissan’s bedroom, picked up her brown LV workbag from the armchair where she said it would be, and turned to leave the house. He wasn’t taking a goddamn thing else. He would get her a houseful of new shit. Whatever she wanted. Everything here was getting left behind.

  Krissan Kingston was still his angel’s feather despite what he’d witnessed tonight. She’d only gotten the tip of her feather dirty.

  One conclusion he’d came to throughout it all, was that he would not lose her. He was in love with her, and he wasn’t letting her go. He chose her. Decidedly chose her. Mind made up. No turning back.

  He wasn’t about to let a minor fuck-up of hers which was induced by a great fuck-up of his shamble that choice. The choice to make her his legally, contractually, sexually, emotionally, every goddamn ‘ly’. He wanted her to share his billions with him. His businesses. His life. He wanted her to write shitloads of songs for him and sing them to him — naked, with just her guitar across her shoulders — after a hard day of work. He wanted to cook for her and spoon-feed her for the rest of her life. He wanted to buy her ten more Audis. Let her drive his One-77. Whatever the hell she wanted, he wanted to give it to her. As long as she remained his. As long as she remained chosen. As long as she remained …

  Alive?

  Trevillo skidded to a halt in the middle of the driveway when he saw all four of his car doors opened and
all four tires slashed.

  The hell?

  In a sudden panic, he bolted towards the car hoping, hoping, Krissan was still there. And breathing.

  His bones turned to dust, the edges of his vision blackened, his heart imploded at three second intervals, and his head pounded like a kettledrum when he saw the note on the car seat where his angel’s feather should have been.

  You had my heart in your hands, and what did you do?

  You fucked it up.

  Now, I have your heart in my hands, and what am I gonna do?

  Fuck.It.Up.

  I’m not going to give you an ‘it’s either her or me’ ultimatum.

  I’m just going to wipe her out of the picture and leave myself as the only offer on the table.

  That way, you won’t get to choose. You’ll just have to take what’s left.

  Don’t worry, I’ll make her death as pleasurable as possible. I promise, I’ll even make her come.

  Not even Johnson got that kind of luxury. So you might wanna thank me when you see me.

  Your only choice,

  Sarah NELSON.

  Trevillo stared at note until the words on the paper started blurring.

  She took her.

  She was going to kill her.

  The lunatic murdered her husband?

  Shit. Shit. Shit. She was going to murder Krissan!

  Inertia seized him, and he read the words on the paper over and over again. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t. This couldn’t be his life. He’d done good on more than one occasions. He hadn’t always been a bad person. Didn’t that count? Didn’t he get a reward for being good some-fucking-times?

  Fuck you, Life! Fuck you!

  Trevillo tried to move one of his hands. It worked. So he reached inside his pocket and withdrew his cellphone, dialed, and listened numbly as the phone rang.

  “Speak,” answered the one person he knew who could possibly get his woman back. Alive.

  “Natalio, I need you,” he managed to get out, his own voice sounded strange to his ears. Weak and helpless. “Krissy … she’s gone … s-she’s … taken … ”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m … I’m … ” Fuck, he couldn’t even remember where he stood. He needed to snap out of this shock if he wanted to find his woman alive.

  “Jesus, Trev,” Natalio muttered in a pained voice. “I’ll track your phone. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

  At that moment, Trevillo didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, seeing he was temporarily suffering from paralysis.

  He’d found the love his life. Lost her. Got her back. And now he lost her again. This time, it might be forever.

  Crumpling the piece of paper in his hand, he turned his face up to the sky, then opened his mouth and shouted so loud he could feel his lungs vibrate. “KRISSAN!!!”

  Natalio shook his head at the creased up note Trevillo crumpled earlier. He sucked air through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose before shifting his gaze to him. “So, you think if you’d listened to me and hired a security team that something like this could’ve happened?”

  Trevillo rubbed his forehead. He wasn’t in the mood for a tongue-lashing on safety from his brother. He was just recovering from his shock, the reality of what happened was starting to sink in, and he wasn’t feeling like a person who was alive, to be honest. He felt as if he was out of his body, looking at his brother talking to a replica of himself.

  “I’m not like you, brother. I can’t stand having people following me around wherever I go. I’ve tried it, and it lasted all of two weeks before I told everyone to fuck off. If I wanted that shit, I would’ve turned into some kind of celebrity instead.”

  Natalio made an irritated sound. “Guess what, Trev? You are like a goddamn celebrity! You’re a frickin’ billionaire who’s King of Real Estate in this hemisphere. You’re Marcello’s son. You’re a goddamn Nelson. You are not safe walking around without protection, Trev!”

  Trevillo folded his arms like an intractable teenager. “Love’s richer than all of us, and I don’t see him with security tailing him.”

  “No, but Love rolls his ass out of bed and prays for an hour each morning. So I’m sure he’s more than protected. He also walks like he’s wearing Jesus’ sandals. Do you?” Natalio shifted on his feet, getting ticked. “And he’s not the one going around screwing other men’s wives.”

  Despite the situation, Trevillo managed a chuckle. “Okay, I get it. The fact I have a missing — possibly dead — Krissan Kingston proves you’re right. Now, what do I do?”

  Trevillo wouldn’t even bother telling his pissed-off brother Sarah had threatened him more than once, and he’d ignored it. He would go ballistic. His brother was a stickler for safety and protection.

  Natalio clapped his shoulder and leaned back against the car beside him. They were still outside Krissan’s house. The night was eerily quiet and chilly, but the coldness in Trevillo’s body had nothing to do with the atmosphere.

  Trevillo was the oldest of all his siblings, but they all felt like he was the youngest, because he was as stubborn and rebellious as a last child. Natalio, who was the middle child, acted the oldest, because he’d inherited this gift of natural dominance, control and intimidation, just like Marcello, their father: focused, precise, calculated and everything done with purpose. When he spoke, people shut the hell up and listened.

  Even though it should’ve been the other way around, Trevillo looked up to Natalio like he was the big brother. His opinion mattered to him like no one else’s.

  “Now,” Natalio started, “you need to shake off this … look of hopelessness. It’s scaring the shit out of me. You’re normally the toughest and most impenetrable out of all of us, and at the moment, I don’t like the way you look. It’s a bit … frightening.”

  Trevillo looked at his brother as if he had a log for a brain. “That’s because my girlfriend might be lying somewhere right now with a bullet in her head!”

  With a crooked smiled, Natalio said, “Still can’t believe you have a girlfriend, man. And by the looks of it, you’re nose deep in love.”

  Trevillo could only shake his head as he glared at his brother. Only Natalio could make the most serious situations seem like child’s play. Natalio was accustomed to shit like this. Trevillo wasn’t. If his brother didn’t have securities sitting in tinted vehicles on the curb, he’d punch him straight in the face right now.

  “Chill, Trev, chill,” Natalio said, laughing. “I’m just tryna get you to calm your nerves so you can think clearly. You can’t get through situations like these until your mind is in order. Freaking out won’t help. Calmness is key.” He turned and stretched an arm out on the roof of the car, as if they had all the time in the world. “Now, close your eyes. Count to ten. Breathe, and calm your nerves.”

  Normally, he wouldn’t have done jack-shit, but this was Natalio here. So he’d go with whatever he said if it meant he would find Krissan.

  He counted past ten and was reaching twenty-five when his mind instantly relaxed and journeyed directly to Monday afternoon. The afternoon he hadn’t really given much thought to, due to being tied up with work in the BVI.

  Now that his mind was clear, he was beginning to see how odd the afternoon was. The fact that Sarah had known without looking it was Krissan who’d walked in on them. The fact that Milo had allowed Krissan to enter his office without notification, even though he knew Sarah was there. The fact Milo had, out of the blue, given notice he was leaving TDR …

  “Milo … ” he absently whispered. His eyes popped open and saw Natalio grinning at him.

  “See? Works like a charm.”

  All business now, Natalio turned and opened the door to his Bentley, slid in the back, then told his driver, “Moore, signal TA5. Girl abducted.”

  Trevillo hopped into the vehicle and leaned back with a heavy sigh, as Natalio flicked open a razor-thin laptop and began tapping furiously on the keyboard. “Now, tell me,
where do we find this Milo fucker?”

  Trevillo rang the doorbell to Milo’s picket-fenced bungalow house. As soon as the door so much as cracked opened, he didn’t wait, he gave it a hard shove so the impact would bust the asshole’s face.

  “Ah shit!” the male behind the door groaned in pain, staggering backwards with one hand holding his nose that squirted blood.

  The recipient wasn’t Milo, and that made him even more pissed-off. Before he could step inside to turn out the intestines of all the occupants in the house, his brother grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

  “Trev, don’t let your anger control you, man. Or you won’t get through this quickly. Time’s limited. Clear head, brother. Keep calm.”

  Ruddy, Natalio’s main man, snorted and pushed his big muscled body past them and into the house. “Don’ needa clear head t’pull de’ fuckin’ trigga’.”

  At that, Trevillo smirked, and Natalio glowered at Ruddy. “Hey, soul-taker, no killing unless it’s necessary.” Then he looked back to him. “Ruddy’s a murderer who gets a rush out of killing for no damn reason. Don’t encourage him.”

  Trevillo sniffed and looked out into the yard where Natalio’s team of men were inconspicuously circling the house. He turned back to his brother who was starting to get on his last nerve with his ‘keep calm’ bullshit.

  “Really? Unless it’s necessary? You know what, you better not put a fucking gun in my hand tonight, because this time I’ll validate my nicknames. ‘Cause if my girl is still alive, whoever is standing in the way between her and me, it’s fucking night night. Fuck calm.”

  Striding off into the house, he went straight into a dingy living room swirling with smoke and the strong scent of marijuana. Natalio’s men were already in from the back and were holding down four naked men, Milo in the mix, who was looking up at him from the ground, wide-eyed with dread etched on his face.

  “Sorry for disrupting your orgy,” he sneered contemptuously at the cohort of shriveled-cock, ass-fucking assholes. Latching his eyes on Milo, he said, “I suggest you start telling me what the fuck I need to know if you wanna live to continue sticking your dick in shitholes.”