Chapter 17
WREN
“W here to first?” Darcy asks once we’re in the back of his car. With a driver. At three in the morning.
Money is weird.
What’s even weirder is that I’m here at all. In London.
My first time out of the country, and it was to follow my brother across the world like a puppy.
I can use as many flimsy excuses as I want—Tobias sucks at training me in the job, which would be a lie; I wanted to come here to somehow prove Mom’s theory right; I’ve never left Washington State before and figured the UK was a great starter trip—but they’re all bullshit.
I’m here because I missed him. Plain and simple.
And because of that, I really hope that Ritcherson blood doesn’t run through his veins. I mean, do regular people miss their siblings? I thought siblings were supposed to annoy each other. Or is that more of a kid thing?
“Wren?” Darcy’s smooth voice breaks me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home? I swear you fell asleep with your eyes open. I asked where you want to go.”
“I don’t know. You’re the one who lives here. Ooh, can we go see the Eiffel Tower?”
Darcy laughs. “That’s in France.”
“Isn’t all of Europe really close? I heard you can drive across the whole thing in twelve hours.”
Darcy reaches for me, his warm palm patting my cheek. Warmth spreads down my cheek and neck, and I shift uncomfortably. But it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it’s too comfortable.
“Sweet summer child. The American education system has failed you.” He turns to our driver. “Lawrence, take us to all the tourist traps. My brother needs to learn geography.”
Do I tell him I’m joking, or do I let him continue to think I’m a dumbass? With his hand lingering on my cheek that little bit too long, I’m going to go with let him think I’m a dumbass. His gray eyes don’t look as tired as they did when I first showed up.
“Not all of us Ritchersons could be sent to boarding school over here.” I regret my words immediately because his hand drops faster than lead. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty.”
“I don’t,” he says softly. “It does make me wish everything was different.”
“You know what? I don’t. After spending this last month learning everything there is to know about running MediaCorp?—”
“I’d argue that you’re a long way off learning everything , but go on.”
“I know I’m not cut out for this life. Would it be different if I was raised that way?
It’s impossible to know. But I already know I don’t have what it takes to be in your position.
So I hope you don’t plan on dying anytime soon because otherwise, the company is fucked.
I’ll be signing whatever papers our sniveling little brother wants me to. ”
A sad smile crosses Darcy’s face. “No dying. Got it.” His tone is so serious I actually worry for a moment.
“Holy shit, you’re not, right? Like you don’t have some terminal?—”
His hand lands on my thigh, and the warmth travels north to my cock. Okay, this is getting ridiculous now.
Was he always this affectionate and I never noticed? Or am I reading into his actions simply because I don’t seem to have control over my bodily reactions around him anymore?
I think at this point, I’ve all but convinced myself that Darcy isn’t my brother just so I can have inappropriate thoughts about him without getting that ick factor.
If he is … I don’t want to consider it. They’ve only been fleeting thoughts, momentary lapses of control where my body does things without my permission, but it’s inappropriate.
I may have suspicions. I may have wants. But none of it is concrete.
“I’m not dying anytime soon,” he assures me. “I’m going to live until Junior will be too old to take over from me, and the company will go to his kids.” He side-eyes me. “Or yours. If you have any.”
“You’re not going to have any? What, because you got out of your marriage to that émile guy, you no longer have obligation?”
“There might be another eligible bachelor out there whose family is worthy of marrying into ours, but even with émile, I don’t think children were on the cards. Mother might have enforced it, but I don’t like to contemplate what could have been.”
I snort. “Bullshit. Our whole relationship is based on what could have been.”
“True. I mean when it comes to émile or marrying someone for anything other than love.”
“Eww, a Ritcherson who’s a romantic? Are you sure we’re related?” And am I sure that didn’t come out as accusatory instead of a joke?
“Maybe you’re not one. Your dad …” He clears his throat. “ Our dad was actually very romantic.”
Do I immediately pocket that slip of the tongue as evidence? Of course. But I’m not about calling it out. Not now. If anything, the last few weeks of phone calls have shown me anytime I’ve led the conversation somewhere he didn’t want to go, he’s great at shutting it down and ending the call.
If I’m going to get information from him, it has to be slow.
Darcy’s both confusing and alluring. And even though there’s every chance we are related, I can’t help staring at him like we’re not.
He’s watching me, no doubt waiting for me to say something snarky about our dad, so I give him what he wants.
“Yes, I hear knocking two women up within weeks of each other is the romantic fantasy every woman dreams of.”
“That’s where you see Father differently than I do. He might not have loved my mother when they wed, and it might have been out of obligation that he chose her, but they did grow to love each other. I’m sure of it. The things he used to do for her …”
“Like what?”
“Flowers for no reason.”
I lift a shoulder. “Borderline at best. Probably guilt flowers for sleeping with the receptionist at the office.”
“He didn’t cheat,” Darcy says, and he’s so damn adamant I don’t want to call out his naivety. If Dad was such a stand-up guy, he wouldn’t have made the choices that he did.
He wouldn’t have gotten two women pregnant at the same time.
Unless Mom’s theory is correct and he didn’t .
I might be a Ritcherson by blood, but if I ever had to choose between love or obligation, I’m going with love. Every damn time.
I’m not even sure I believe in the type of fairy-tale love most people dream of, but I sure as shit wouldn’t give up the opportunity to find it if it’s out there.
“What else did Daddy Dearest do to make him soooo romantic?” I ask.
“Do you know how I found out about you? That you existed?”
“Hmm, did Warren bring your mother flowers and announce at the dinner table, ‘I have a bastard son you don’t know about, but I love you’?”
“Close, but no.” Darcy actually smiles at that. “Father treated my mother well. Gave her the world. Always greeted her with a kiss. The mutual respect between them was always obvious, and I thought they were relationship goals. But … one day, I was playing around in his office?—”
“How old were you again? I thought you said you found out about me when you were a teenager, and I’m having amazing imagery of adolescent Darcy playing with toy trains in Daddy’s office.”
Darcy sighs, and it’s insane that I’ve even missed the way he does that when I say something stupid. “I’ll have you know I was pretending to work, trying to see myself in that position one day, and … I hated it. Didn’t think I’d live up to the expectation.”
Yep, not hating my teen years at all right now.
“I might have maybe started snooping.”
I mock gasp. “You dared to step out of line?”
“I didn’t think I’d actually find anything. But I did. You.”
“I was locked away in his office? That sounds like kidnapping, and why can’t I remember any of this?” Am I deflecting with humor because I don’t like the lump in my throat? Why yes, yes I am.
“There were photos.”
“Creepy.”
Darcy ignores me. “Of you and your mom. I think our father loved my mother, but he had eternal love for yours. The type where the burning need might’ve faded over the years, but the yearning was still there.”
“That’s depressing,” I blurt.
“That you didn’t get to see that side of him?”
“No. That two people who had that kind of love turned their backs on each other. Loving one another from afar. Fuck, it makes me want to go home and give my mom a hug.”
It also makes me wonder what I’m doing here.
“We’ve arrived,” Lawrence says from the front.
I break eye contact with Darcy and stare out the window at the big, tall structure. “Big Ben’s Penis!” I yell.
Ah, there’s the sigh I love so much.
“Come on, then.” Darcy opens the door.
“Where are we going?”
“You have to get a selfie in front of the big clock cock.”
“Yesss.” The smile can’t be wiped from my face. We huddle together, and I lift my phone above us, taking my time snapping a million different angles just to remain this close to him.
So much for not thinking about him inappropriately.