My First Love Affair (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers Book 3)

by Ali Parker

  “Good.”

  “I’m not fine,” I blurted out.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We have to talk. Like serious talk. I screwed up last night,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll grab a bottle of wine and be on my way,” she said, like the good best friend I knew she was.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you in a few.”

  I headed upstairs, unlocking my door and going in. I could smell him. That sandalwood combination lingered in the air. I quickly went to my living room window and opened it, not caring that I was letting the cool air from the air-conditioning out. I didn’t want Deanna to smell him in my apartment until I had a chance to tell her what had happened. I had a feeling she might not be all that happy with what I had done. She loved Mason like a brother and tended to be a little protective of him. I knew I could insult him to a point, but there was a very fine line to insulting him and giving him hell and being mean.

  I walked into my bedroom, looking at the sheet that was partially off the bed, the comforter a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. It looked like a bed where sex had happened. It hadn’t even really been wild sex, but the disarray of the bed gave that impression. I quickly stripped the bed and tossed the sheets in the laundry basket. I could smell him everywhere.

  I changed clothes, pulling on a pair of comfy, cut-off jean shorts and a tank, leaving my aching feet bare. I didn’t bother picking up. Deanna knew how I lived. She was my best friend, which meant I didn’t have to try and impress her and lie about my housekeeping skills. She knew better. I rummaged in my freezer, found a frozen pizza that promised to be healthy and nonfattening and a box of jalapeno poppers. They did not hold the same promise. I figured they canceled each other out and put them both in the oven. I needed comfort food and wine.

  “Hi,” I greeted when Deanna knocked on the door ten minutes later.

  “You have got me very curious. Don’t you dare keep me waiting,” she said, pushing past me as she walked inside my apartment.

  I smiled, knowing she was not one to beat around the bush. “I’ll get a couple glasses,” I told her, avoiding the reason why I had her coming over for an emergency chat.

  “You look like hell,” she said bluntly.

  “Thanks.”

  “Late night?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You have that look about you,” she replied.

  I scowled at her. “What look?”

  “The look like you got laid,” she said with a small giggle.

  I immediately touched my face, as if I could physically identify what it was that gave away my secret. “I do not.”

  “Yes, you do. Did you hook up with someone? Please don’t tell me it was the guy stomping all over your toes.” She grimaced.

  I shook my head. “God no.”

  “Who? Where?”

  “Here,” I replied, only answering part of her question.

  “Really? You brought someone back to your place? Addy, come on, you know better than that. He could have been a creep.”

  I scoffed. “I’m sure he is a creep.”

  “What? Who? Did I meet him last night?”

  I nodded. “You did.”

  “Damn it, Addy. Who?!” she shrieked.

  “Sit. This is going to require sitting, so just bring the whole bottle of wine,” I ordered, moving to sit on my worn couch.

  We both sat, sipping our wine. I was trying to figure out how to tell her. She was giving me the time I needed to collect my thoughts. I took a deep breath and figured the best course of action was to just lay it all out, get it in the open, and go from there.

  “Mason.”

  “What about him?” she murmured, sipping her wine before shoving a popper in her mouth.

  “It was Mason. I brought Mason home last night,” I said, clearing up any confusion.

  She choked, putting her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were watering by the time she finished coughing down the food in her mouth. “Mason, you slept with Mason?” she squeaked out the words.

  I scrunched up my nose. “I did.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “What’s not to understand?”

  “But you hate him!”

  I nodded in agreement. “I do.”

  “Mason?” she repeated his name.

  “Stop. I already feel bad enough. I don’t need any help.”

  She took a long drink from her glass. I followed suit, draining my glass and then refilling it.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. You two have been circling each other for years,” she said with a laugh.

  “No. We’ve hated each other for years.”

  “Exactly. All that pent-up frustration and anger had to be released one way or another. I guess you guys found a way to take the edge off.”

  I laughed at the irony. “I suppose you could say that. Although, I think it is only going to make things worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because every time I look at him, I’m going to picture him naked. I’m going to see him in all his naked splendor and think about last night,” I murmured.

  Her eyes widened. “That good?”

  I sighed. “Yes, and then some. His body, my God, I had no idea.”

  She grinned. “I’ve seen him with his shirt off and I’ve always thought he was a very good-looking guy, but I’ve never been into the bad boys. That’s always been your thing. I should have seen it before.”

  “No, no you shouldn’t have because there was nothing there,” I assured her.

  “He was good? You had fun?” she asked, ignoring my protest.

  I blushed, unable to lie to her. “He was and I did.”

  She burst into laughter, slapping her thigh. “Is he tender or rough?”

  “It was kind of fast, but I want to say both. Honestly, I think I was the rougher one. I left some pretty good claw marks on his back—and butt,” I murmured, sipping more wine as I relived the moment I had dug my nails into his flesh.

  “Addy! You wild woman!” She giggled.

  I groaned. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Why? You’re young and single. He’s young and single, and despite what you might think of him, he’s really not a bad guy. You had to have seen that tough-guy image he puts on is just an image,” she told me.

  “I don’t think so. He’s still the same guy I’ve always loathed. It’s just now, he’s the same guy with something I really enjoyed,” I said.

  “Ew, stop! Do not even tell me the dirty details. He is still my friend, and I don’t want to find myself staring at his crotch. I have to eat meals with this man,” she warned.

  I laughed. “Okay, fine. No details, but it is very odd that he doesn’t have more women hanging on him. The man is a lovely specimen of the male species,” I said in my best clinical tone.

  She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, because that didn’t give me any ideas about what you were referring to.”

  “Sorry.”

  “So, what now? Are you guys a thing? Are you dating, seeing each other, hooking up? What are we calling this thing?”

  “Nothing. We aren’t calling it anything, because it isn’t anything. It was a one-time thing. We had a little fun and now it’s over,” I told her firmly.

  “Adelaide, since when are you the kind of woman who takes a man home on a one-night-stand?”

  I shrugged. “It’s happened before.”

  “Like three times—ever. You’re a very sensible person and almost never give it up on the first date. Something was obviously different with him,” she pointed out.

  “Because I knew him. He wasn’t a random stranger at the bar. There was kind of a safety net, I guess you could say. I knew I didn’t have to worry about asking if he was going to call me the next day and I didn’t have to worry about him being an ax murderer. He was a safe option to scratch the itch that was desperatel
y in need of being scratched,” I told her, trying to convince myself.

  She looked at me, one brow raised. “Bullshit. You know that isn’t true.”

  “It is true.”

  “Did he stay the night?” she asked.

  “Yes, but not really. I mean, we got home at two and I was out the door by six thirty, so, I don’t think that technically qualifies as a sleepover,” I told her.

  “What does Mason say?” she inquired.

  “About?”

  “About what it was. About whether he wants to see you again?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I told him it was a mistake and it could never happen again. He didn’t agree or disagree. I kicked him out the door and that was that.”

  She let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if that was exactly the right thing to do. Mason isn’t like that.”

  “Yes, he is. I saw him last night with all of those women. He’s used to being kicked out of bed after giving a woman what she wants, and I’m sure he’s kicked out plenty of women as well. It wasn’t like we talked about dating and all that. We had an hour of fun,” I asserted again, wanting to make myself believe it.

  No matter how good it had been, I couldn’t have it again. He was off-limits. I did not want to date a man I couldn’t stand. Sex wasn’t everything. It was good, but it wasn’t enough to make up for our differences in personality and who we were.

  “Addy, that’s not the real Mason. I’m not sure what happened, but I know both of you very well. Neither of you are the type to give into lust. You both felt something. That is the only way the two of you ended up in bed together. Don’t discount him or what he might be thinking,” she said, her voice soft.

  “I know you like him, maybe even love him like a brother, but trust me, it was just once. It won’t happen again.”

  “I guess, if that’s what you say, but try to remember he is human, even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes,” she lectured.

  I laughed. “He doesn’t act like it most of the time, but I get what you are saying. I will keep my hands and my mouth to myself. Please don’t tell Dalton.”

  She gave me a look. “You don’t think Mason will tell Dalton?”

  I groaned. “Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. I can never be around him again. I’m never going out with you again. You make me do terrible things.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Me! I never told you to sleep with Mason. That was you and your lusty-self,” she said, waggling her finger at me.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Can’t we just pretend you made me do it? I will feel so much better if I can tell myself I didn’t jump a man I hate ninety-nine percent of the time.”

  “Nope. You own that one, sister. That is all you,” she said firmly.

  Chapter 15

  Mason

  I had been standing in front of the door to my mom’s house, staring at it, knowing that whoever was inside knew I had come through the gate. Maybe they didn’t know it was me, but they knew someone had entered the security code. If I didn’t knock, my mother or James would come out and check to see who it was. I didn’t want to be caught staring at the door looking like a lost little kid.

  I reached out and rang the bell before I could talk myself out of it. I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t been around in a couple months. I hadn’t seen Jack since the last family dinner. I hadn’t seen any of them. There had been a few texts between Jack and me, and my very short conversations with James. That was it. I had avoided them and my mother, which wasn’t cool. I owed her an apology.

  It was James who opened the door. “Holy shit. I didn’t think you would actually show.”

  “I showed.”

  “Come in and let’s get a drink,” he said, opening the door wide.

  I stepped inside, the huge foyer filled with family pictures instead of fancy artwork, which most houses this size would have. It was a huge home, but it had never felt cold. I had been in the homes of other families who had run in the same social circles, and their homes had always felt cold and sterile. I could appreciate my mom’s efforts to give us a real home. She cooked dinner for us every night. She kept the house cleaned and we all had our own chores to do. By all intents and purposes, we were the average American family—but filthy rich.

  I followed James down the hall into my father’s study. That was how I would always think of it. My father’s study. I stepped inside the room and immediately felt the pull of childhood memories, not all of them happy. I could almost picture my dad sitting in his leather chair, drinking scotch, and lecturing me about not upholding the family name.

  “Nothing changes,” I muttered.

  “If you mean the decor, no it doesn’t. Mom doesn’t want to. She’s not ready for that, and I’m not going to push her,” James said a little defensively.

  I nodded. “I don’t think you should. It was just a statement.”

  “Scotch?” he asked.

  “No. Whiskey,” I said, not wanting to turn into my dad.

  I flopped down on the leather couch, leaning back and looking around the room. James delivered my drink and sat in one of the easy chairs.

  “What’s been going on?” he asked.

  I smirked. “Because you care?”

  “I do.”

  I got the feeling he did care, but years of experience had me putting my guard up. My brothers had never approved of me or my lifestyle. I always felt like they were looking down their noses at me. They were all someone, either head of the company or the company’s right-hand man. They all had made something of themselves in the world we had grown up in, except me. I had gone in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to wear a suit and worry about getting money or making money. I had that. Hell, we all had that.

  The difference was, my money was from my godmother. I didn’t have a single penny from my father’s estate. I had inherited and rejected it. I wanted nothing to do with it. They all tried to tell me to invest it and blah, blah, blah. I had money. I wasn’t worried about making more money. Yes, I could admit I wasn’t great at counting pennies. I only got to live one life, and, in my opinion, I was going to live it to the fullest and use the money I had to do it.

  My brothers had money and, yet, instead of spending it and enjoying what their wealth could buy, they spent long hours in the office, away from the families, trying to make more money. To me, that was selfish.

  “I’ve not done anything worth reporting,” I told him.

  He laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Your idea of nothing is what most people consider something on their bucket lists.”

  I grinned. “Maybe.”

  I heard footsteps in the hallway and the deep rumble of male voices. My brothers had arrived. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for their disapproving stares.

  “Mason?” Jack said, a hint of shock in his voice.

  “In the flesh,” I said, taking a drink from my glass.

  Grayson barely acknowledged I was there, walking directly to the side bar and pouring himself a drink. Colt was pouring his own drink. Everyone settled in.

  “Are you in town to stay?” Jack asked me.

  “I’m in town for now.”

  He laughed. “That’s always your answer.”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  I listened as my brothers chatted about their lives. I kept my mouth shut. I had nothing to add. Nothing that they cared to hear about anyway.

  “Boys! Dinner is ready,” my mom called out as she walked down the hall.

  We would always be her boys. All of us had given up on trying to get her to refer to us as men. We would always be her little boys. She walked into the study and froze. I looked at her, offered a small wave. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Mason! Oh my God! I didn’t know you were coming!” she exclaimed, walking toward me.

  I stood up, taking the hug she was offering. I hugged her back.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” she said.

  “Me too,” I mu
mbled, the words feeling a little weird.

  She took a step back. I stared into her eyes, noticing she looked tired. I hated to think of my mother getting old.

  “You feeling okay?” I asked her in a quiet voice.

  “I’m fine. I had a restless night,” she replied.

  “You have to take care of yourself,” I told her.

  “Come, come. Dinner is done and I don’t want it to get cold,” she lectured.

  The others got to their feet. We followed her into the dining room. Each of us taking our seats at the long table. My eyes slid to the head of the table that was left empty. It was my dad’s seat. None of us dared sit in it, not even Grayson.

  My mom bustled in, carrying a big pot of her infamous spaghetti. My stomach growled at the smell of the fresh herbs she always used. She rushed back into the kitchen, coming back with a bowl of meatballs and a bowl of sliced bread. It looked and smelled delicious.

  I listened as Grayson and Jack chatted about something that had happened at the office last week. Colt and James chimed in, offering their opinions. They were all pretty close, I realized, as I sat there quietly listening to them. They were comfortable with the back and forth and being around one another. I had extricated myself from the family unit a long time ago. I wasn’t sure if I was sad about that, but I felt something.

  “Is Leah crawling yet?” Jack asked Grayson.

  I watched my normally stalwart oldest brother’s face soften, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his daughter. “No. She is trying, but not quite there yet. Hannah has gone overboard with the babyproofing. I can hardly move around the house without having to step over baby gates. I almost got locked out of the bathroom because I couldn’t figure out how to work the stupid plastic thing over the knob,” he complained.

  Everyone chuckled. Everyone except for me. It was still hard for me to wrap my head around Grayson being a daddy. Hell, I couldn’t believe I was an uncle. It felt like it was yesterday we’d all been in Little League.

  My mom came back in, finally taking her seat at the table. “Thank you all for coming. You know how much I love when you all come over. We really need to plan a real family reunion. I want everyone here, the grandchildren as well.”