13
CASH
WHEN I JOIN THE CONFERENCE call, Harrison and Dylan are waiting for me.
“You’re late,” Harrison states with his arms folded across his chest, his white dress shirt showcasing his muscular arms. After his short stint playing professional hockey, he maintained his athletic build. He spends hours in the gym each day, meticulously sculpting his body, and follows a strict diet with the help of his private chef.
Honestly, I’m not sure how he juggles it all, especially while running a multibillion-dollar company like a well-oiled machine. I find it hard enough just managing my life and keeping the amount of stupid shit I do to a minimum.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
After dinner with Everly last night, she pulled out her laptop and worked at the kitchen counter until well past midnight. When she finally came to bed—damn. It took every ounce of control not to corner her when she stepped out of the bathroom wearing another one of those sexy lace tank tops and booty shorts.
It didn’t help that as soon as she drifted off, she shifted to my side of the bed and curled up next to me. She fits perfectly in my arms, and I couldn’t resist holding her close.
I’ve never been a cuddler, not wanting to send mixed signals to the women I had sex with. Things are different with Everly. I look forward to her sleeping in my bed and waking up next to her each morning.
“Hey, little brother.” Dylan greets me with a wave. “I spoke with Carol earlier, and she told me you had an unexpected visitor stop by your office yesterday.” He attempts to hide his amusement but fails miserably, a grin spreading across his face.
“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan. “You damn well knew Theo would show up to confront me when you sent him a copy of that article.”
I find their prank even less funny than I did yesterday. They better watch their backs because I’ll get my payback when they least expect it.
Dylan snorts. “We figured Theo would want to congratulate you himself. For the record, it was Harrison’s idea,” he says, attempting to pass the blame.
“What the hell, Dylan,” Harrison grumbles. “Why would you throw me under the bus like that?”
I should have guessed Harrison was the mastermind. He may be a brooding, intimidating corporate mogul, but he’s surprisingly inventive with prank ideas. I usually find them highly entertaining, but not when I’m the victim.
“I didn’t find it the least bit funny.” I scowl. “Theo was this close to beating me to a pulp in my office.” I hold my thumb and forefinger close together for emphasis. “I dodged his fist this time, but I’m a dead man walking once he finds out I didn’t tell him Everly is only staying married to me because of the acquisition.”
“You didn’t tell him about it?” Dylan sighs, rubbing his hand across his face. “You’re right. You’re in deep shit when he finds out.”
“Everly asked me not to,” I say, recalling the urgency in her expression when we talked about it at Brew Haven.
Dylan lets out a low whistle. “She already has you wrapped around her finger, and you’ve been married less than a week.” He gives me a smug smile as he leans back in his chair. “I’m not surprised, seeing as you’ve had a secret crush on her since high school.”
“I have not,” I lie. My ears grow warm with embarrassment, and I’m grateful my hair hides them.
“Oh really,” Dylan says. “So, getting suspended for punching Jacob Barlow in the face when he dumped Everly was just for kicks?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What about hanging out with her while all your friends were at prom because you didn’t want her to be alone? Does that sound like something a friend would do, Harrison?”
“Personally, I wouldn’t do that for just anyone,” Harrison says with a smirk.
Even he’s finding this amusing. I should’ve expected my brothers wouldn’t let me off easy. Typically, I’m the one teasing them, and I’m not a fan of our roles being switched.
“That was fourteen years ago,” I grumble.
“Yeah, and you’re still pining for her,” Dylan says.
I roll my eyes. “So what if I am?” I say coolly.
“There’s nothing wrong with liking Everly. She’s incredibly intelligent, funny and beautiful,” Dylan says, listing off her positive attributes on his fingers.
I arch a playful brow. “Watch it,” I warn.
He’s teasing, but that doesn’t stop the unfamiliar wave of jealousy from coursing through my veins, even though I know Dylan has found his happy ending with Marlow.
“Easy.” He holds up his hands with a cheeky grin. “I was just offering her a compliment. You damn well know I only have eyes for Marlow—”
Dylan’s office door swings open, and Lola rushes inside, all out of breath. She’s decked out in a bright pink shirt and rainbow tutu, and her hair is styled in fishtail braids with sparkly bows tied to the ends.
“Daddy, you have to help me,” she exclaims, leaping into his arms.
“Ladybug, I’m on a call with your uncles. Can it wait?” Dylan asks firmly.
“Hi, Uncle Harrison, Hi, Uncle Cash.” She ignores him as she waves to the camera.
“Hey there, Ladybug. You’re looking extra cute today,” I say. “I love your braids.”
“Thanks. Marlow did them.” She affectionately runs her hands down her hair, preening for the camera.
“I figured,” I smirk at Dylan, who’s glaring at me.
He’s never been able to master the fishtail braid, and we all like to give him a hard time about it. It’s one of the many reasons Marlow is his perfect match.
“Ladybug, what can I help you with?” Dylan cuts in.
“Waffles and the puppies got into the pink finger paint again.” She points to the hallway, where I can hear the dogs barking.
That’s when I notice her palms are covered in bright pink paint, now smeared on the front of Dylan’s shirt. I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Shit,” Dylan mumbles under his breath. “Sorry, guys, I have to go.” He lifts Lola, setting her on the ground, and rises from his chair. “I convinced Marlow to meet her friends for breakfast at Brew Haven, so it’s just me at home with Lola and the dogs.” He bends over so we can see his face on the screen.
“No problem. We’ll catch up with you later,” Harrison assures him.
“Thanks.” Dylan drops off the conference call, leaving me to face Harrison’s inscrutable expression alone.
We haven’t had a one-on-one conversation since before my Vegas trip, and I’m dreading the lecture that I know is coming. I squirm in my chair, hoping he’ll suggest rescheduling the meeting. After a minute goes by, I can’t take it anymore.
“Can you please get on with it,” I blurt.
Harrison tilts his head slightly. “Get on with what, exactly?”
“The part where you tell me how irresponsible I’ve been and how disappointed you are in me. Not just as my boss but also as my brother, and that if I don’t get my act together, I’m fired.” I sigh heavily. “You have every right to be mad at me.”
Harrison has had to bail me out of several sticky situations, and if there’s one thing to push him past his breaking point, it’s probably my impulsive decision to get married. So I’m bracing myself for the worst.
He doesn’t reply as he picks up a pen on his desk, clicking it while watching me with his icy blue gaze.
I bite my tongue, trying to be patient, but I’m practically bouncing in my chair when he finally speaks.
“I’m not mad,” he states.
I give him a puzzled look. “You aren’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I worried about you. How are you holding up?”
“I feel like I screwed all this up,” I admit. “And I know that’s what you’ve grown to expect from me.” I sigh, casting my eyes down to my lap. “I’m not wired like you and Dylan. I wish I were, but I’m not.”
I didn’t plan on having this conversation with Harrison today, but if I’m being honest, it’s long overdue.
“Why is that?” he questions.
“You command every boardroom you step into, and Dylan is a mathematical genius everyone admires. I’m the college dropout who has the position I do because I’m your brother.”
Not to mention, they’re both good-looking, whereas I’m flawed. The one who everyone feels bad for when they see us all together.
“You honestly believe that?” A somber expression crosses Harrison’s face. “Is it frustrating when you don’t log on for work on time or that you put more energy into your extracurriculars than your job? Absolutely.”
I nod slowly, swallowing a lump in my throat. His brutal honesty is a hard pill to swallow, but everything he says is true.
“However, I promoted you because you have a talent for connecting with our employees, not because we’re related.” He taps his pen against his desk as he speaks. “You might not know this, but shortly after your accident, I overheard Mom and Dad express their concern to the doctor that you might lose your sense of humor and outgoing personality when you recovered. I didn’t have the same concern.”
He’s right about me having never heard this before. After I woke up, I was disoriented for a while. I remember my mom crying a lot, but overall, my parents maintained a strong front.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice filled with curiosity.
“Because you’re one of the strongest people I know,” Harrisons replies with conviction. “The following week, you proved me right when Dad went to use the restroom in your hospital suite and discovered too late that you had covered the toilet bowl with Saran Wrap.” He chuckles at the memory. “I’ve never seen Mom and Dad so conflicted about whether to punish you or celebrate that you were back to your old self.”
When I woke up from the induced coma the doctors had put me under after my accident, I didn’t feel any different. But I knew something was wrong when my parents, siblings, and friends looked at me with pity, sympathy, or a mix of both. The nerve and tissue damage was extensive, and the country’s leading plastic surgeons could only do so much.
It devastated me, knowing that things would never be the same. But that didn’t stop me from trying to live my life like I always had.
“Don’t get me wrong. Your carefree attitude and sense of humor are refreshing,” Harrison says, although I can sense a but coming. “But the reality is we all have to do things we don’t want to do.”
“When have you ever done something you didn’t want to?” I scoff.
I’ve always envied how he makes everything look easy. He was the most popular kid in school and the star hockey player in college, and he seamlessly took over Stafford Holdings when our dad retired. He never shows weakness, and everyone takes him seriously.
“That’s what you think?” He raises a brow in surprise. “Cash, I was only ten when Dad told me I would be the successor to a global empire. Long before I fully comprehended what that meant, I carried the weight of our family’s legacy on my shoulders so that you, Dylan, and Presley didn’t have to. I gave up my dreams so you could pursue yours.”
“What dreams? I figured you wanted to be CEO.” Hearing myself say it out loud sounds ridiculous, but besides hockey, Stafford Holdings is the only thing he’s passionate about.
He gives a humorless laugh. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for my role and wouldn’t trade it for anything. But there are moments when I wish things had turned out differently,” he says, his gaze distant, lost in thought.
“Why would you give up your dreams for us?”
“Because that’s what big brothers do. We sacrifice our happiness for the people we love.” He gives me a somber smile.
I’ve put Harrison on a pedestal, thinking his life was picture-perfect. Now I see how na?ve I’ve been. He’s been dealing with his own challenges, and I’ve been too self-absorbed to notice.
“Man, I’ve been a shitty brother, huh?” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair.
Harrison shakes his head. “No, you haven’t. Enough about me. How are things going with Everly?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Oh, they’re going great,” I say sarcastically. “We just moved in together, and she’s already thrown multiple pillows at my head.”
Harrison smiles. “Sounds like marital bliss to me.”
“I did learn that she has a weak spot for home-cooked meals,” I say.
“You can’t cook,” Harrison states.
“Okay, fine, home-cooked is a stretch,” I confess with a shrug. “But I plate the dishes, which is pretty impressive.” My tone is teasing. “I contacted Fallon, Theo’s protégé, when we returned to London. A few years ago, she ventured out on her own and now works as a private chef. She preps our dinners, and I pick them up at her pop-up shop on my way home from work.”
Harrison gives me a slow clap. “I’m impressed, little brother. Have any of Theo’s other students moved to New York? My chef, Steve, is retiring, and I’m looking to replace him in the fall.”
“Fallon told me she’s moving to New York City soon. She might be interested in the position. I’m not sure if she has a set clientele yet, but I’ll ask her.”
He gives me an amused shake of the head. “It sounds like this scheme of yours has an expiration date. You better brush up on your cooking skills, or you’ll have some serious explaining to do when your gourmet meals start to come out of the oven as bricks of charcoal.”
“The acquisition will most likely be finalized by then, won’t it?” I ask wearily.
“Yeah. As long as there are no major roadblocks, it should be finalized in the next month or two.”
“Right, so Everly and I won’t be together anymore.”
A sinking feeling settles in my stomach when I envision returning to my life from a week ago. So much has changed, and the more time I spend with Everly, the harder it’ll be to say goodbye when the time comes.
“Are you still planning on getting divorced after the deal closes?” Harrison asks.
“That’s what Every and I agreed on,” I say, keeping my answer vague.
He furrows his brow. “Just don’t make any more rash decisions, alright?”
“Yeah, okay,” I say as I bring up my email on my second monitor, determined to make today productive—though I can’t help but wonder, where’s the fun in that?
My focus in the short term is to make Everly smile every day and keep her as happy with our arrangement as I can, given the circumstances.
She’s the most important thing in my life right now, and I’ll do everything I can to make her see that.
That night, I’m roused from sleep by uncontrollable need. My hard cock presses against my boxers, pulsing with desire for the woman next to me. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and groan when I see it’s only 3:17 a.m.
I rarely wake up with morning wood in the middle of the night, but I’m only human. It’s impossible to control my innate reaction to Everly’s warm body wrapped around me like a cocoon, wearing nothing but a tank top and skimpy shorts.
The moon’s silver light shines through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the darkened room. Everly is snuggled against me, her leg draped over my hip and her head resting on my bare chest. My arm circles her waist, and my hand rests on her skin where her tank top has lifted.
I use my free hand to adjust myself, careful not to disturb her.
I go still when she shifts, her thigh brushing against my dick. She mumbles incoherently, and my eyes widen when she grinds against my leg, her breasts rubbing against my bare chest as she moves against me in a steady rhythm.
My cock jerks when her moans fill the room as she rides my leg. It seems I’m not the only one who woke up sexually frustrated. I stifle a groan when Everly picks up her pace, heat from her body radiating through the fabric between us.
From this angle, I can’t see her face. I assume she’s too embarrassed to look at me, but she shouldn’t be. I’m just as affected by her.
She digs her nails into my arm. “Cash,” she moans.
“Everly?” I whisper.
I tighten my hold on her, afraid to say anything else and ruin the moment. When she clenches around my leg, I press my thigh against her core, giving her the pressure she’s searching for. My hand wanders to her stomach, and as my fingers reach her lace panties, she tips her head back with a low groan, giving me an unobstructed view of her face in the dim light.
Her lips are parted, and disappointment consumes me when I see her eyes are shut.
Fuck, I think she’s dreaming.
My hand lingers, tempted to give her the pleasure she’s chasing in her sleep, but I force myself to pull back. My cock throbs in protest. I would like nothing more than to make Everly come, but not like this. When I bring her to ecstasy, I want her eager and begging me never to stop.
That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop her from getting herself off. After all, I am her husband, and it’s my job to give her what she needs.
Everly repositions herself to get extra friction. It’s hot as hell watching her get herself off. She lifts her head to pepper kisses along my neck, her breath skating across my skin. It takes every ounce of restraint not to kiss her back when she squeezes my thigh with her legs.
“Oh, god,” she cries as she tips over the edge. The dampness on her shorts proves her orgasm wasn’t only in her dreams.
A sigh of contentment escapes her lips as she nuzzles her head in the crook of my neck. Within seconds, her breathing evens out, and she falls back into a peaceful slumber.
I’m not so lucky. My cock is still rock-hard, begging for release. I close my eyes, doing my best to ignore it. I don’t want to risk waking Everly if I get up to relieve myself.
At least now I know she wants me, even if she hasn’t yet come to terms with it yet. Here’s to hoping her mind catches up with her subconscious soon because I’d like nothing more than to show her how much I want her.