Chapter 5 Rafael #2
‘Sergeant Howard did you a solid!’ I snap. ‘You’re the luckiest idiot I know, to have a mate answer the call to arrest your arse.’
‘Jake said the guy deserved it.’
‘Fuck!’ I slam my fist against the inside of the lift, inches from my brother’s ear.
The move finally evokes a reaction from him, and he squares up to me, tipping up his chin.
‘Little brother,’ I seethe. ‘You want to get into it with me and see where that gets you?’
Angelo’s nostrils flare, but he remains silent, indicating I’m finally getting somewhere.
‘I can’t keep bailing you out like this. You’ve got to get a grip on yourself. You represent this family. You represent our business.’
‘You sound just like Dad,’ he spits.
I tilt my head, boring my eyes into his. ‘The man who built this company from the ground up, you mean? The man who raised you, fed you?’
‘The man who never wanted me.’ Angelo holds my eyes defiantly, but I see it. It’s always there.
His Achilles heel.
I screw my face up, dropping my fist from the wall.
‘He loves you, even if he has a hard time showing it,’ I say, all the anger dissipating from my voice and being replaced by brotherly love in an instant.
I’d die for all of my siblings, but especially Angelo.
He’s my kid brother. The youngest. Barely twenty-five.
I was fourteen when he was born. I’ve fed him, changed his damn nappies, wiped his goddamn arse.
He’ll always be a little kid to me, no matter how old he is.
‘You standing up for him now? You two best buddies all of a sudden?’
‘Yeah, best bloody pals,’ I mutter, my chest tightening the way it inevitably does whenever I think of our father.
He throws me an apologetic look, and I brush it off. There’s no real malice in his voice. He doesn’t blame me. He blames himself. It’s Angelo’s default setting – self-blame and loathing.
‘He didn’t want to get rid of you, though, did he? Sorry, bro, but you can’t understand how it feels to catch your father looking at you, knowing he’s wondering if life would have been easier if you didn’t exist.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say, not adding, ‘I know how it feels for him to look at me like I’m a failure, though. Like I’m weak.’
‘Come on, I’m not stupid.’ Angelo screws his face up, losing all the bravado he had when I picked him up from the police station with bloody knuckles and the leftover adrenaline from a fight he could have avoided but sought out anyway.
I know exactly what’s making his dark eyes flash with a look that makes my heart fall to my feet.
‘Hey.’ I pull him to me, and he tries to resist, but within a few seconds he’s sinking into my arms, burying his head into my shoulder as I grip the back of his head inside my palm, letting the silky dark strands spill out between my spread fingers.
‘You know it’s true,’ he mumbles, thinking he’s hiding the waver in his voice. But this is my kid brother; I hear it loud and clear.
‘It’s not,’ I rasp.
‘He said it himself.’
‘One stupid, moronic time when he was pissed out of his goddamn head.’
‘Alcohol brings out the truth,’ Angelo mutters.
I suck a breath in through my nose. I could have decked my father that night. Gabe and I hoped Angelo was too young to remember it. Even my father was so pissed he doesn’t recall it and has never mentioned it since.
But as it turns out, an eight-year-old never forgets hearing his father’s slur to himself late one night about how his youngest son was an accident. One he’d asked our mother if she was sure about keeping.
I pat him on the back with my free hand, the motion acting like an injection of strength that has him squeezing me back before easing out of my embrace.
‘I’m sorry you had to bail me out again,’ he says, avoiding my eyes.
‘Next time you need to let off steam, call me first, okay? I’ll be there.’
He side-eyes me, his lips lifting into a hint of a cocky smile. ‘Yeah? You down for that again?’
I shake my head at the growing gleam in his eyes. ‘It’d be a lot easier if your vice was women instead of fighting.’
‘Who says it isn’t both?’
I smirk, unable to stay mad at him for long. This is Angelo. He’s always had this infectious, cheeky bravado about him. A sense of freedom and fun. He’s magnetic. That’s how people describe him. And he’s smart when he isn’t busy acting like an idiot and getting in trouble.
It’s why he’s so good at bringing new clients onboard. They like him. And he knows the family business. Even if he questions if he belongs some days.
‘How about you? You taking anyone home to meet Mum and Dad soon? Get them off your case?’ He elbows me in the ribs as we stride out of the lift and into the foyer.
I don’t dignify his ridiculous question with an answer. He knows how I feel about taking a woman home to meet my mother, who will then suck her into a world of wedding organising before she can even get through the door.
AJ turns, stuffing a magazine behind his back where he’s straightening up the waiting area.
‘Brought some light reading, huh? What is it? Housewives or naughty doctors? I’m not picky,’ Angelo jokes, walking over and whipping it out of his hands.
His eyes widen as he takes in the front cover, before he bursts into laughter.
‘Some children visited with a client this morning,’ AJ flounders, trying to rip the magazine back out of AJ’s clutches. But he’s no match for my brother, who holds it up in the air as he continues laughing at whatever it is he’s finding so amusing.
‘Man, I love kids.’ Angelo beams, thrusting the cover into my chest and patting me on the shoulder. ‘Suits you, bro.’ He winks before heading off towards Gabe’s office with a swagger, having bounced back from our conversation in the lift already.
AJ’s eyes are wide as he watches me peel the magazine from my shirt and study the cover. It’s the interview from last month.
‘I’ll get it replaced straight away,’ he splutters.
I frown as I take in the thick black marker, drawn on with angry, hurried slashes, like the artist’s hatred was bleeding out with the ink.
It’s the cover photo of me in a suit.
Only with the addition of giant horns, a tail, and a pitchfork.
And a monobrow.
‘I don’t have a bloody facial hair problem,’ I spit, crumpling the magazine inside my fist.
‘Of course not, Mr Fairfax,’ AJ agrees. ‘It’s kids being kids.’
‘Yeah, right . . . kids,’ I echo.
I give him a tight smile and storm into my office, the ruined magazine in my fist.
Locking the door behind me, my phone is out of my pocket, and her profile is up before my arse even hits the seat behind my desk.
I scowl at her face, ready to unleash a barrage of abuse.
But then an unfamiliar pink frilly neckline makes my breath catch.
She’s in a new blouse today. One that’s sheer and shows her lace bra through it.
I lick my lips and narrow my eyes, homing in on a slight darkening of the fabric where her nipple is.
‘Fuck,’ I murmur, pulling my belt free and unzipping my trousers with lightning speed before my brain can register what I’m doing.
Stuffing my hand inside my boxers, I wrap it around my dick and squeeze. Hard.
‘Fuck, Beauty,’ I rasp. ‘Look at you. Goddamn look at you in that see-through little thing.’
I stroke myself with quickening jerks of my wrist, wasting no time in getting my heavy, aching balls drawing up to my body, desperate to unload.
‘And it has these adorable pearl buttons, look!’ she exclaims in a breathy voice, moving towards the camera to show them close up.
The angle elongates her neck, and I salivate like Edward fucking Cullen at the pulsing vein in her neck.
‘Jesus,’ I murmur, my body shaking. ‘Jesus . . . fuuuccckkk.’
I release with a rough grunt that’s much louder than I expect it to be. Thick white ropes of cum spurt out of the end of my swollen cock. I manage to yank my shirt out of the way fast enough that they splatter over my lower ribcage, saving it from getting ruined.
I keep stroking, eyes pinned on her as she moves about on the screen.
‘Perfect date night outfit,’ she says with an innocent smile.
Squeezing the final hot drops from my cock with a groan, I rake my eyes over her, drinking in every inch. ‘You can’t fool me, Beauty. We both know you’re far from innocent. And one day, I’ll have you admitting it.’
I drop my dick and grab a wad of tissues from my desk drawer to clean up the mess I swore I would never make in my office.
Swiping up my cum, I curse at the fact my dick is still throbbing from the sound of her voice.
I could wank over her again right now, I know I could. And it still won’t be enough.
Only one thing can cure me.
I lift my eyes to the screen, licking my lips.
‘Soon, Beauty,’ I rasp. ‘One day real soon.’