20. Aaron
20
AARON
D aisy did it on purpose, flirted with men in front of me.
That had always been her modus operandi. In school, when that Swedish foreign exchange student had shown up, impressed by real, honest-to-God, grass-fed American female breasts when he was used to flat-chested, heroin-chic European girls, he had no problem flirting back in that ridiculous accent that sounded like a mouthful of cereal. Daisy would rub up against him in her pleated skirt and that sweater stretched over her chest, the uniform we’d had to wear at the private school that looked fucking perverse on her. Swedish Fish would practically cum all over his hemp pants.
In the Hamptons, when we’d happen to be there together, she’d purposely flirt with the guys who walked up and down the beach, in that blue bikini that barely covered her ass.
Now she was doing it with that rodent-faced, inbred Brit.
She was at the coffee cart when I strode off the elevator, half leaning against the counter, laughing at something one of the patrons was saying.
The strands of pearls hung down under the ragged collar of her homemade shirt, nestling warmly in the crease of her cleavage.
“Take it off.”
“There’s a line, Aaron.”
I turned to my wide-eyed employee.
“Are you buying anything, Craig?”
He shook his head quickly, stammering, “N—no.”
“Aaron...”
“I want that necklace.”
Her nipples pushed against the thin fabric of her shirt as she reached up and unclasped the jewelry.
“Just trying to make your coffee-buying experience exciting.” She slapped the warm pearls in my hand.
“Just get my usual, Coleman. I have an eleven a.m. I’m going to be late for.”
Anderson Wynter sat across from me, listening as I explained in detail, with diagrams and charts, what I needed from him.
“Hudson is right,” Anderson said when I finally took a breath. “Marriage truly does not agree with you. He says your older brother is very concerned. I thought they were both overreacting. But it’s true. Somehow, you’re even more of a self-absorbed dick than usual.”
“I don’t need a therapist.” I scowled. “I just need enough dirt on Paddington Bear so he’s deported and banned from the United States of America for at least ten years. Though there’s a bonus in it for you if it’s a lifetime ban, and if you can’t dig up something, then I need you to plant evidence.”
“Felonies are extra.”
“Just bill me.”
“You’re concerned that the wife you proclaim to hate and compared to a—let me consult my notes—‘cinderblock around your neck to drown you in agony as you’re thrown into the Hudson River’ will fall in love with this Professor Edmund Pennington?”
“He’s a liability. It’s not personal,” I argued.
Anderson didn’t say a word.
“Van de Berg insures Columbia University, and he is a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen. Do you know how much money they cost?”
Wolf stuck his head in and frowned at Anderson.
“Betty thinks you’re plotting an assassination on company grounds. She’s worried about the security of her pension.”
“Betty needs to mind her own business.” I raised my voice.
“I have cookies for you to take to your lunch meeting, sugar.”
“Aaron’s paying you out of his own pocket for this… whatever this is,” Wolf addressed Anderson.
Anderson saluted.
“I want this done immediately.”
“No, this does not have high priority,” Wolf corrected. “You have real work to do for our company, Anderson.”
The chair toppled behind me as I stood up and slammed my hands down on my desk.
“I want his head.”
Wolf sighed and picked up the stapler that had crashed to the floor.
“Maybe Grayson’s right, and you should switch to herbal tea.”
“We drink coffee in America.”
“How are things going?” Grayson asked me hesitantly while our other brothers fought over the cookies Betty had sent.
“We are not friends,” I snapped at my older brother. “I tolerate you so that we keep a lucrative business relationship between our two companies.”
“Someone’s a spicy jalapeno today.” Spence whistled. “Have a cookie.”
“I don’t want a cookie.”
“Betty told Anderson you’re overdoing it on the caffeine.”
“Can no one in this godforsaken city mind their own goddamn business?”
“Your friends and family are concerned about you.” Graham patted my arm.
Finn grabbed my chin and pried one of my eyelids open.
“You look a little amped-up, bro. How much have you had to drink?”
“Just three cups.”
“So for him that’s like twelve cups,” Connor said.
Graham snorted. “It’s barely even lunchtime.”
“Some of us get to work early.”
“If I had a wife with a rack like that,” Finn said, selecting a cookie from the platter, “I wouldn’t be getting out of bed any earlier than I had to.”
I grabbed him by the neck.
“ Don’t fucking say shit about my wife .”
He gurgled as I shook him.
Grayson rose to his feet, the threat lacing his posture.
I released Finn before our eldest brother could punch me in the face.
“Yeah, you’re definitely drinking too much of your coffee sludge,” Graham drawled.
They didn’t understand that I needed that caffeine. Daisy was incapable of sleeping like a normal person. She kicked and mumbled and rolled around in her sleep. I needed the energy to make it through the day after weeks of terrible sleep. And if that meant I was able to keep an eye on her, that was an added benefit.
“So, when are we going to see your new bride?” Connor asked.
“We should all go out for dinner!” Graham suggested.
“I bet Lexi would like her,” Grayson told me.
“Your girlfriend likes everyone, including, for some godforsaken reason, you,” I shot at him.
Grayson’s expression was frigid.
I rubbed my head. Maybe I was drinking too much coffee.
“It’s not a real marriage. Daisy is not important.”
“Really?” Grayson’s lips thinned. “Because you’re acting like she is.”
“You seriously need to chill out,” Wolf said when I stormed into the CEO’s office for our daily meeting.
“I hate my fucking brothers.”
“I wish I had a brother.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I was an only child.” I sat down heavily across from him.
“You know,” Wolf said as I opened my laptop, “the office offers tele-mental-health services.”
“I’m tired of therapists, thanks.” I typed in my PIN. “All they know how to do is nod along while overprivileged princesses like Daisy complain that Daddy didn’t buy them the Range Rover they wanted. They don’t understand situations like mine.” I pulled up the files. “My grandparents forced me to go to years of therapy. None of those psychologists knew what to do with me, and they invariably fired me after a few sessions.”
That was more than I’d confessed sober. Ever.
My friend crossed his arms and regarded me critically.
I didn’t meet his eyes, just looked back to my computer.
“Just tell me what you want to do about underwriting this West Coast port project,” he said.
That night, as I climbed the staircase up to my bedroom, I stripped off my shirt out of habit, like I could remove the guilt and the memories.
I used to be fine before Daisy showed up.
Well, that wasn’t actually true. To be fair, it wasn’t completely her fault.
I used to look forward to the Tuesday lunches—seeing my brothers, able to really be myself with the only other people on the planet who truly knew what it was like to grow up like we did.
Then Spencer had to invite Grayson to the Tuesday lunches, reuniting the family. My brothers had been so excited, and a part of me had missed him, missed the closeness. It had been him and me against our father, protecting our little brothers in the damp cellar with nothing but butter beans and a flickering TV that was on twenty-four-seven.
Until I’d failed.
And Grayson hadn’t.
Fuck Grayson. I rubbed my arm where he’d broken it and peeled off my undershirt so I could scratch the scars.
Lucky , the doctor had told Bill, lucky they’d rescued me and gotten me to a hospital so soon because they were able to repair the arm so it was good as new. Like the injury never happened.
Grayson thought I was angry that he’d attacked me to make our father believe that he was on his side, to lull him into taking him out of the cellar so he could get help.
But that wasn’t it.
I was furious that I had failed, that Grayson had done what I was too weak to do. To save my mother. To save our brothers.
Now I had to sit across from Grayson every Tuesday and confront my own failure, that I’d attacked my father and failed to subdue him. Failed to rescue my mother.
I didn’t know if I was never going to forgive myself for it or never forgive him.
Being around my older brother just reminded me of that failure.
It was better to be alone.
Unfortunately, I had to deal with him every Tuesday on top of dealing with my mother’s family every Friday, and now I couldn’t even relax in my own fucking house in my own fucking room in my own fucking bed.
Because of her.
I flung the door open and was confronted by a bright, noisy TV. Two obnoxious brunettes were talking at the top of their voices while Daisy laughed with delight.
My bedroom reeked of Chinese food.
My wife beamed at me. “Do you want an egg roll, Aaron?”