by Nana Malone
“Okay, do you have like a broom or something?”
Her eyes went wide. “You’re going to squash him?” She looked horrified.
“Maybe I can shoo him outside, but he can’t stay here. Unless you want him to stay here.”
She shook her head immediately. “No. I just don’t want squashed mouse guts in my kitchen.”
“I’m not gonna squash him in the kitchen. I’m just gonna try and shoo him out of the apartment.” At least, that was the plan. Honestly, I didn’t know how to get rid of a mouse. The last time I encountered the little furry fuckers, I moved. Yes. I wasn’t afraid to admit it: I moved. Because at the end of the day, it was a fucking mouse. And I could afford to. But this girl couldn’t afford to. Plus, I also allowed no mice in this building. I was real clear that I would pay whatever it took to fumigate the place regularly. There couldn’t be any mice in here. Maybe she was overreacting when she saw a shadow. Fuck, I really hoped she only saw a shadow.
I grabbed the broom from the kitchen and started toward the dining area where she’d set up most of her easels. I searched in the corners. Luckily, she was neat despite the paint being everywhere. All her boxes were put away now. The only hint of a mess were her easels and her paint supplies. “Okay, you saw him over here, right?”
“Yeah, I swear it. I heard a little squeak.”
“Well, I don’t see him now. Any chance he moved anywhere else in the apartment?”
“I don’t know. I sort of ran and shouted. Then I jumped on the couch, and you showed up. So truthfully, if I’m being completely honest, I had my eyes closed. I have no idea where he is now.”
Well, well. “All right. We’ll get some traps, okay?”
She grimaced. “Oh my God. Not like those spring-loaded mousetraps that, like, break the neck. He’s so little.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s a mouse. It can’t live here. It’s not a pet, so you’re gonna have to get rid of it somehow. I guess we can call an exterminator too.”
“Yes, I like that one, an exterminator.”
I had to chuckle. “Somehow that seems more humane to you? He’s gonna gas the little fucker out.”
Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because her face fell. “No. I just—I just wanna catch him and you know, release him in the woods or something.”
“Are there any woods around here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something, anything … I don’t wanna have this little mouse’s guts on my conscience.”
I thought it through. “Okay, I guess, there are those like box traps or whatever. You put food or whatnot in it, and they crawl right in. It’s not like those blue ones where they legit will gnaw off a limb just to get free. And it’s also not like the spring-loaded traps where they break their neck or whatever. This one is humane. They go in through the locks, and then you can throw the box out, or call animal control and they take it away, or whatever.” I was totally bullshitting about animal control. I didn’t know what they did with those traps. I assumed they just threw it in the trash. But I supposed I’d have to figure it out for her. One neighbor … one giant pain in the ass. But she was one giant, great-smelling pain in the ass.
Shit. I couldn’t think about how good she smelled, or that creepy thing I did to her that one time. Yeah, let’s not think about that. “Look, it’ll be fine. I’ll just—”
I heard the squeak behind me. Instead of turning around and bashing it with a broom, I may have yelled. Okay, I did yell. And I also jumped up on the couch with her. Before I knew what was happening, Len jumped up, wrapped her arms around my neck and straddled my hips as she tried to get even higher up off the ground.
Thought one: Jesus, she’s soft. Thought two: God! That was so not manly. Thought three: I fucking hate mice. Thought four: That mouse isn’t so bad because now Len is wrapped around me and I think I like it.
Thought five: Shit, you are not allowed to like this.
Sometimes, I hated my thought process. “Okay, okay. Settle down.”
“Settle down? You’re the one who jumped up here. I told you, it’s an attacking mouse determined to kill me.”
“He’s little. He’s not trying to kill you.”
“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing on the couch?”
She had me there. “I—look, you looked comfortable up here. Fuck, okay. He startled me.”
“You see? Now we’re both going to die on this couch.”
Whew! What a way to go. She barely weighed anything. She was all soft, female curves and coconut and lime-scented something that drove me insane. She smelled so good. You will not sniff her again. You will not sniff her again.
And I wasn’t going to. But then—and it wasn’t my fault—she wrapped herself tighter around me and nuzzled into my neck. And well, I couldn’t help it. She was so close. Sniffing was inevitable. I did try to hold my breath. I did … for a second. And then I inhaled deeply. Every muscle in my body simultaneously relaxed and then spasmed as the electric charges hit them. And my dick, well, he made his presence known. Not that Len seemed to notice, because she was still clutching on to me for dear life.
I dragged in deep breaths, trying to think about anything other than the woman wrapped around me like a coiled snake. But oh no, every single thought was filled with Len. Len naked. Len bent over shaking her ass, wriggling at me as if in invitation. I’d already struck out with this girl, much to my chagrin. I didn’t need to make it worse.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to make myself let her go. Her legs were wrapped around me. Her arms wound behind my neck. She was nuzzling deep inside my arms. I needed to hold her up, didn’t I?
It wasn’t my fault that my hands were on her ass. Really, it was her thighs. Let’s be honest, though. I had to will my hand not to move because testing the firmness of her ass would have been full-on douche city. She was scared, and I wasn’t going to take advantage.
“Um, well, I will call the building manager and get you a couple of those traps.”
She pulled back slowly, her gaze meeting mine. Her eyes were dark pools of melted chocolate. And I could stare into them all day. She blinked rapidly and nodded. “Thank you.” Then she seemed to notice that she was wrapped around me. A slight flush lit her cheeks, and then her thighs loosened their grip around my waist and she slid down. Her arms went last. And then we were standing on her couch, facing each other. Neither one of us acknowledged that my hands had just been on her ass. Because really, was there any need to acknowledge that?
She blinked up at me. “Thank you Sebastian, you know, for the rescue. Even though you ended up needing to be rescued yourself.”
“Will you please tell no one? My reputation can’t handle it.”
She grinned. “If you get me some traps that don’t involve me having to watch poor Mickey die, your secret is safe with me.”
14
Sebastian …
As much as I didn't want to admit it, Len was right. I had to tell Lucas. Not that any of this shit was going to be easy. Easy or not you need him. Your freedom hinges on it.
Finding him at the coffee shop on the corner of 10th was easy. My brother was a creature of habit, and he went there every morning.
“Hey, man, what are you doing here?" Lucas clapped me on the shoulder as he ordered his sugary, girly coffee drink.
"I was in the neighborhood meeting a friend. I just popped in here for coffee." I made a production of ordering a small black coffee. I couldn't very well tell my brother that I’d had him followed by Blake Security for a month to get his routine. That would up the ante on the creep factor for sure. "Never imagined I’d run into you here." Total bullshit. Lucas came in here every day right after one of his classes. I might not want their security expertise right now, but the guys at Blake Security certainly had come in handy.
"I was at the library for a project."
"What do you study anyway?"
Lucas shrugged. "Business is my major. Boring, right? That was one
of those choices where I didn't exactly know what I wanted to do with my life, but I
knew I needed to make money. I’m also working on a minor in history, and a minor in French."
"You like languages?"
Lucas laughed. "I guess. They come easy to me. I'm passable in French Spanish, and Italian. So far it hasn't been of much use except for the random travel abroad.” Lucas pushed open the exit and I joined him outside.
I took a seat and held onto my mug before pinning a gaze on Lucas. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you. I’m not here to just hangout."
Lucas's brows drew up. "Shit. I knew it. You're gay? I'm cool with it. But honestly, I thought that it was pretty clear that I wasn't."
I coughed. "Say what?"
My brother shrugged. "I mean. You're shifting around, looking uncomfortable. You have, like, weird tells."
"I’m not gay. Okay?"
Lucas raised brow. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yes, God damn it. I'm sure."
"I mean, the redhead was coming on pretty strong the other night and you were not interested. Although, the other girl, your neighbor, you seemed all into her. So I don’t really know. Look, whatever it is, I'm cool, but I'm not interested."
I lifted my head and stared at the heavens for a long moment. "Jesus Christ. I’m straight. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay."
Lucas smirked. "Is that what people say when they think there's something wrong with that?"
"Shut up. I'm fucking trying to tell you that I'm your brother."
All of a sudden, Lucas’s good mood evaporated. His brow snapped down and he scowled at me. "What?"
Fuck. That was not how I’d wanted it to come out. "I—us meeting wasn’t an accident. I’ve been looking for you. And I know this has to be a shock, but I am your brother."
"I don't have a brother."
"Yes. You do. I'm him. I am Sebastian Winston from the Winston Isles. Your mother and my father had a thing however many years ago. And you are the result."
Lucas laughed. "First, you want to tell me I'm your brother, and then you drop it on me that your dad and my mom had some sort of affair."
I nodded. "More or less. And you're not technically a prince yet, but our dad’s trying to change that soon."
Lucas stared at me. Granted, this wasn’t the sort of the reaction I had expected. In my head, I had arguments prepared. I was ready. But the dumbfounded denial was unexpected.
My brother leaned back. "You're full of shit."
"I promise you I'm not. I am currently the Crown Prince of Winston Isles."
Suddenly awareness dawned in Lucas's eyes. "Oh, are you high right now? Because whatever you’re on, I want some."
I saw no other option, so I pulled out my wallet and showed Lucas my ID. Both the US driver's license and the one for the Winston Isles. It wasn’t like I had a badge that said ‘Crown Prince’ or anything like that. But my name should suffice. "Look, I know this is a shock. I was hoping we could talk. It's been great getting to know you over the last little bit, but there are some things we need to talk about."
His frown only deepened. Somehow this was getting worse instead of better. "So, you’ve been acting like we were like hanging out as friends and shit, just so you could get close to me?"
That stung. "When you say it like that, it sounds shitty."
"That's because it is shitty. You’re fucking insane. You and I, we’re not brothers. I'm not a fucking prince. As much as I wish some insane shit like that were true. Maybe I could finally get those loan sharks off my mom’s case. You've got no idea who I am or how I grew up. My mother hooked up with some drifter when I was a baby. All I learned to do most of my life was lie, cheat, and steal. I’m no prince. When you met me, I was sure as shit hustling those guys. I have bills to pay. I made it to college only because I made a concerted effort to get the fuck out of that life, despite Mom and her tool of a husband Tony trying to drag me down. And I promise you, my folks would find a way to ruin this for me if they could. So I hate to break it to you, but you can’t con a con man. Is that what this is? Did my mother and her good-for-nothing husband find you? Maybe you think you can shake me down and make me go back."
The flare of remorse in the center of my chest was unfamiliar. When I’d started looking for Lucas, I’d given no consideration to what I might find or who he might be. But wouldn’t something like this be a welcome change?
I stood. "I promise you that is not what this is. I'm telling you the truth. You can verify with your mother if you want. Cassius Winston. Ask her if she knows him. That's all you have to do.” I held on tight to my mug as if it were a lifeline. “If you change your mind, you have my number. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry." I shook my head. “When I set out to find you, I never expected to like you too.”
My brother glared at me mutinously. "Let's get something straight. You’re a nut job. I won’t be calling you"
I was getting this all wrong. This was supposed to be easier. "Okay, look. Just think about it."
Lucas put his hand up. "Dude, let me stop you now. I don't know what kind of story someone has fed you, but I don't have any siblings. My old man took off before I was even born. My mom said he was married or some shit. And he didn't want to know. So, that's that. I don't have a brother."
I shook my head stubbornly as if my mere assertion could change his mind. "You do. And I'm him."
I could only watch as my brother stalked away from me. What the fuck was that uncomfortable tightness in my chest?
It hurt. I wasn't used to people telling me no.
That’s not it. No, it wasn’t. I’d started to like the idea of having a brother.
I didn't want to examine any of this shit too closely. How the hell had I ended up here? The asshole son of a king, trying to right a wrong of my father’s.
Trying to free yourself.
That was the plan. But that wasn’t what was bothering me. I liked the guy, and I hadn’t expected to. Eyes on the prize. He’ll be back. Most people couldn’t resist all the trappings that came with being royalty.
But is he most people?
* * *
Sebastian …
After the shitty morning with Lucas, I needed to blow off some steam and avoid my oh-so-sexy neighbor who had been painting on her balcony again.
To be truthful, I needed to put some work into the Winston project. I had another three months to deliver final images so the gallery could have them framed, but I hadn’t been able to focus.
Most of my images were great, but I was looking for one signature piece and I still didn’t have it. I also needed to pare down the list. The gallery wanted to show fourteen. I currently had twenty, and not one of them was a showstopper.
I was hoping the city would inspire me. The upcoming gallery show was one more reason that I couldn’t get distracted by my tempting neighbor.
As I headed down to the corner, I ran smack into the woman I’d been trying to avoid. Okay, avoid sounded like it was intentional. And it hadn’t been. Mostly.
As her breasts pressed into me, I had to stifle a groan.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. Of course I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I was trying to carry the stupid easel. Clearly, I can't do two things at once. I should have just gotten the dolly. I don't know why I thought I could carry it by myself."
I was kind of getting used to her nonstop talking. And I liked it. I had no idea how one person could have so much to say and not filter any of it out. It was refreshing. People were always so careful with what they said to me. Either they wanted to look cool, or they didn't want to piss me off, or they thought they'd have some kind of advantage based on what they said. Len was honest. There was no pretense about her.
"It's no problem. Here, let me carry this."
She didn't let go. "No. I can do it. You helped me when I moved in. I am not a damsel in distress. I do not need Prince Charming."
The moment the word prince was out of her mouth, I stif
fened. Does she know? I eyed her suspiciously. She was entirely focused on trying to lug the easel through the doors and past me. I was being too sensitive. "Come on, I insist. My mother did teach me right. Chivalry is not dead. Just let me help you take this up."
"Okay, fine, but I insist on paying you back in some way. I mean the moving in, the shower fiasco—the mouse. You need to let me do something."
Oh I have a couple ideas on what you can do. What? No. Not happening.
This girl did not like to accept help. Even though she clearly needed it. "It's not necessary."
“No, I insist. I like things to be even. Let me make you dinner. I mean, I can't really cook. So what I'm really saying is I’ll buy us takeout. But you know what? I can bake. I make a mean cupcake. For some reason the baking gene works but not the cooking one.”
I laughed. "You know baking is harder than cooking."
“That's me. If there is flour and sugar involved, I somehow get it right. When I'm cooking, I mess up every time. And unfortunately, man cannot live on cake alone. I am not Marie Antoinette."
She headed for the stairs, and I stopped her. "Why are you taking the stairs? We live on the third floor, and this thing isn’t light. Let's take the elevator."
For the first time since I’d met her, her dimples disappeared. And her lips pursed. "Uh, okay."
I pushed the button, and for the first time she was quiet. Not a peep. I slid a glance at her and noticed her stiff shoulders and the way she impatiently tapped her foot. What was wrong? Had I said something? I knew I could be an asshole sometimes, but I was on my best behavior with this girl. Mostly because I was trying not to fuck her.
My dick twitched as if to call me a liar.
When the elevator arrived, the doors slid open and I stepped back, letting her go in first. Her eyes went wide before she gingerly stepped in and scooted right to the back corner.
Something was off.
I stepped in after her, lugging that heavy-ass easel behind me. I pushed the button for the third floor and turned to look at her. "Okay, what gives?"
