Chapter 18
DARCY
D espite what I said, I don’t book a flight home the next day.
I can grudgingly accept that Wren’s presence here is a good thing for him; it’s his birthright, after all.
And while I refuse to give up what I’ve rightfully worked for, I also don’t want to take all this away from Wren. People here should know who he is.
I just wish I didn’t have to explain the brotherly connection in the process. Constantly.
Between introducing Wren to all the people he needs to know, keeping up the pretense that I’m in London for work and not to get away from him, and annoying Junior by our mere existence here, I barely have time for guilt.
That is until Wren uploads the photo of us to his social media and unknowingly ruins my nightly indulgence.
It’s a stark reminder of why we’re together, why he’s sleeping in my guest room, and why my suits smell like him at the end of a long day.
We work side by side, literally, to the point Junior calls him my shadow.
But I’ve never known work to be so fun. Until I put an end to the jerking off, and then I’ve never known work to be so frustrating .
“Seriously though, why did he smell like that?” Wren asks as we leave a meeting with one of the senior managers in accounting. I’m not sure why we need those meetings at all when literally every time, it’s all “Surprise, you’re rich,” and I have to make a fuss over the smallest expenditures.
“Mothballs, maybe,” I say absently.
“I don’t get how you can be as rich as him and stink like that.”
“Funny, I was going to say the same about you.”
Wren laughs and cuffs me over the shoulder. He’s relaxed a lot around me, but with his comfort comes a lot of casual touches. A lot.
“What are you taking me to see tonight?” he asks. Our sightseeing has continued over the last few days, and I’ve shown Wren all the major tourist locations.
“Given it’s our last night, I thought we could clock out early. There’s something I’ve always wanted to do and haven’t gotten around to yet, so I made some calls and …”
“Let me guess, paid a shit load of money?”
“No … not a whole lot?—”
Wren cuts me off. “Not a whole lot coming from you means it’s even more than I’m imagining.”
“Can you just shut up and enjoy it?”
“We’re technically doing this for you, so you can spend whatever you want on yourself.”
“Sure, let’s go with that.” This entire night is for me. That certainly explains why I’m so nervous about it.
It’s not until eight that Wren lets out a loud groan from beside me and stretches out in his chair. “I thought you said we were leaving early.”
“Is it midnight?”
“No.”
“Then it’s still early.”
“The fact you think that is sad, Darce.” He reaches over me to pluck the stylus out of my hand. “I’m calling it.”
“I have to?—”
“No.”
“Wren.”
He leans right into my space, eyes dancing with amusement and making my heart stop. “I said no .”
A shiver sweeps over me, and I push back away from him. “Fine. I was about to finish up anyway.”
“Uh-huh. I bet.”
“Truly, if you would just?—”
“ Fiiine . If you’re going to be a pain in the ass over it.”
He hands back my stylus and stands over me, watching me finish marking up the documents on my tablet. “Come on, come on, come on,” he complains, bouncing my chair back like an overexcited puppy.
I look up at him, quirking my eyebrow, and verrrry slowlyyyy drag my finger over the screen to swipe to the next page.
Wren’s head falls back. “I hate you.”
“You love me, and you know it.” My words are out before I think them through, and the second they register with me, I freeze.
Wren doesn’t seem to notice though. “I’d love you more if you moved your ass.”
“How easily I could be a smart-ass right now.”
“And how easily I could tip you out of this chair and carry you from the room.”
Urg, please do .
But while my body might be keenly on board with that, there’s no way I’d let it happen. I know Wren well enough now that I know he’ll do it if I challenge him or drag this thing out, so I quickly sign my name and switch the device off.
Lawrence is already waiting when we get outside, and thankfully, it’s not a long drive between here and the London Eye because I want to be above the city by sunset.
Considering there’s a Ferris wheel both here and in Seattle, it’s ridiculous I haven’t done either, but work has always been my priority.
Proving myself.
Making sure I’m beyond question.
Something as ridiculous as fun wasn’t on the cards.
But Wren makes me want to do it. To take the time, just me and him. Even if all we’ll ever be is brothers, it’s going to have to be enough. I’ll have to keep these urges hidden because the days are so much better with him in them.
He catches me watching him, and I get one of those rare moments where everything stops.
Where his eyes meet mine, hold, the curiosity in his stare unmistakable.
Then he looks away, and it’s over. Reality crashes in, and I have to pick my sanity back up and brush it off and remind myself this is how it will always be.
“That thing?” Wren asks as we pull up.
I lean in to peer out his window and maybe to breathe him in too. “The London Eye, yes.”
“You’ve never done it?”
“Never.”
“Do you realize we’ll get that same view from the plane in a few hours?”
“What happened to letting me have my fun?”
“You think the most boring amusement ride in the history of ever is fun?” Wren’s eyes fall closed. “You are so lucky to have me in your life.”
I flick his nose while he’s not watching.
“What was that for?”
“Get out of the car.”
He does that thing where he grumbles under his breath, and I do that thing where I smirk like I think he’s adorable, because I do think he’s adorable. He follows me from the car and over to where a woman is waiting for us.
“Mr. Ritcherson?”
“That’s us.”
I speak without thinking, and Wren doesn’t correct me.
She smiles. “Right this way, sirs.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that most people don’t get a private chaperone onto this thing,” he says as we follow her.
“Most people don’t book this thing out after it’s closed.”
“It’s closed?”
I throw my arm around his broad shoulders. “One day, you’ll understand how rich we are.”
“But probably not.”
And I think he’s right about that. Wren isn’t obtuse. He’s not naive. I think he just genuinely doesn’t give a shit about the money. Considering I’ve been raised to believe it’s the only thing worth caring about, it’s a mindset I can’t wrap my head around.
You work for money.
Marry for money.
Plan for money.
Live for it.
Die for it.
When I was eighteen, I wrote my first will, because heaven forbid I not know what happens with the money after I die.
Wren has millions waiting for him, and he seems perfectly fine with it sitting in limbo.
With his small place and his dirty truck and his badly fitting suits.
I bet he paid for his plane ticket here with his bank account , for goodness’ sake.
Does Wren even know how to properly use a credit card? How to make your assets work for you?
The differences between us are constantly stark and amazing.
“Here you are,” the woman says, waving toward the open pod.
There’s carpet laid out to the entrance, and the inside is set up exactly the way I requested.
A table in the middle, covered with flowers, a charcuterie board, and champagne in a bucket.
A viewing area has been set up at the back, facing the large round glass, and while this is something I wanted to experience, I also want Wren to like it as well.
“You’ve hired it for two hours. If you need to use the bathroom, I suggest you do it now, otherwise call me if you need to come down before then.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll also let you know that while this is very romantic, no funny business, please. I don’t care who you are, you’ll never be let on again.”
My mouth hangs open as she leaves, and I exchange a glance with Wren.
“What …”
“Holy shit.” He starts to laugh. “They think we’re married .”
“What? How?”
“You told them we were both Mr. Ritcherson and you organized this romantic date …”
My cheeks start to burn. “I certainly did not. I … I …” My gaze lands on the champagne, the food, the love seat pointed at the view. “Oh dear god, I’m on a date with my brother.”
Apparently, that’s too much for Wren because he doubles over. And maybe I’d see the funny side if I didn’t so desperately want to be on a date with my fucking brother .
Urg.
I hate me.
I drag my feet as I follow him into the pod.
“Oh, come on,” Wren says, calming down. “It’s funny .” The Ferris wheel powers to life, and we start to lift from the ground.
“It’s inappropriate.”
“Nah …” He opens the champagne and pours out two glasses. “I mean … it’s not like we’re real brothers, are we?”
“ What ?” My stomach dives again, that suspicion that he knows creeping over me. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we didn’t grow up together. We’re not close like that. If we weren’t Ritchersons, no one would know because we don’t look a thing alike.”
I cautiously take the glass from him. “That doesn’t change anything though … does it?”
I expect him to agree immediately, so the second long hesitation is loud. “Does it?”
My nerves are in my throat as we lock eyes again. This time, he doesn’t pull his away. I do.
“It’s almost sunset. We’ll miss it.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
The love seat is piled with cushions, the perfect size to make sure Wren and I are squeezed together, and I desperately wish I hated it.
I desperately wish my body didn’t come alive in all the places we’re touching.
He stretches his arms across the back of the seat, and it takes all my willpower not to lean back into it.
I’d asked them for somewhere comfortable, and this is maybe the most comfortable I’ve ever been.
And uncomfortable. My cock is stiff in my pants, all but sobbing over being so trapped when Wren is right there . Thigh pressed to my thigh. Hip flush with my hip. His warmth and the smell of something sweet, mixed with his scent from working in a stuffy office all day.
Awareness prickles along my skin, and when I finally tear my gaze from the view to him, he’s already watching me. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t pretend not to look.
“It changes things for me,” he finally says, voice low and scratchy. “All those things. Not knowing you. Not growing up with you. I don’t think I’ll ever see you as my brother.” He pulls his gaze from somewhere low on my face to my eyes. “But my friend? I can definitely see you as that.”
And damn him to hell.
Those few words are all it takes for the one thing I’ve smothered for weeks to flare to life.
Hope.