Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CHRISTIAN
The current chair of The Consortium drones on, his tone one of those monotonous types that makes me want to shut my eyes and doze off.
Maybe I do, because Xan kicks me underneath the boardroom table.
Somehow I’ve slouched in my seat, so I push myself upright and try to focus on the agenda.
Normally, it’d be Dad and Xan at these things—Dad because he’s the current head of the household, and Xan as his heir—but for some reason, Dad roped me in to accompany my brother.
Truthfully, I’d rather be at home eating Grace’s pussy until her juices dripped down my chin.
With any luck, this meeting will wrap up on time, meaning I’ll be home by eight o’clock tonight.
It’s been a long three days, and in all honesty, I don’t have the attention span for it, nor the brainpower.
It’s a good thing Xan’s the heir. He lives for this stuff, his expression enraptured, his involvement absolute.
I’m much more comfortable in my own sphere.
Sneaking my phone out of my pocket, I hide it beneath the table and send a text to Grace.
Me: What are you wearing?
It’s a cliché play that never gets old. She replies a few seconds later.
Grace: Nothing. It’s kinda hot lying on this bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire.
I grin at her sassy response. Those things I said to her before I left are beginning to feel more and more like the unmitigated truth.
What if she is the right woman for me? She sure as hell feels like it. I’ve never felt like this about a single one of my relationships. It’s time to fess up to myself.
I’m falling for her.
Me: I’m afraid I’m going to need to see photographic evidence.
Xan clears his throat, and I side-eye him.
He’s got this whole muscle feathering thing going on in his jaw, which I’m guessing relates to how he’s grinding his teeth.
I get another sharp poke with the toe of his shoe.
He gets a firm kick in return, my attention back on my phone as I wait for Grace’s response.
When it comes, I bark out a laugh that I have to hastily cover up as a cough. She’s sent me a stock photo of an empty bearskin rug in front of a fire with a comment underneath:
Nothing on a bearskin rug.
God, she’s adorable.
Xan kicks me for the third time, and the look on his face tells me I’ve pushed my luck as far as it’ll stretch. Time to wrap it up.
Me: I can’t wait to see you. It’s been a tiring three days.
Grace: I’ll be here.
Another two interminably long hours pass before the chair wraps it up. I’m on my feet a second later. Xan takes his sweet time gathering his things, then I swear, just to annoy the fuck out of me, he strikes up a conversation with the person sitting to his right.
I roll my eyes.
“Your brother being his usual asshole self, I see.”
I turn toward the familiar voice and hold out my hand to shake Donovan Sinner’s. “You read the room, my friend.”
“Something to rush home for?” He raises a brow, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
“Listen, when you fall for the right one, you’ll know how it feels.”
Christ. Did I just admit out loud that I’ve fallen for Grace?
“Never gonna happen. I’m a committed bachelor.”
“Probably because no one will have you,” Xan clips out.
Donovan snickers. The relationship between these two has always been fractious, and I’ve never got to the bottom of why, nor am I particularly interested in finding out. Sometimes we dislike people for no reason, and make no mistake, my brother despises Donovan Sinner.
“It’s a shame marriage and fatherhood haven’t made you any less of a jerk, Alexander.”
“I’d rather be a jerk with a beautiful family than whatever sad cliché you’re clinging on to. Christian, let’s go.” Xan grips my elbow and virtually shoves me from the room, muttering curses under his breath.
“Just what is your beef with that guy?”
“I don’t have a beef with him.” He stabs the button for the lift, shouldering his way inside before the doors fully open.
“Could have fooled me.”
Xan waits for the doors to close, then rounds on me.
“Forget Sinner. He’s a nobody. What the fuck were you playing at, Christian?
I get your reluctance to come on this trip.
I’d rather be at home fucking my wife, too, but we have a job to do, and a family to represent on the council.
Your inattentiveness was noted by the chair. ”
“You know me. I don’t have the attention span for this kind of thing. I like staying in my lane, and this isn’t it. I don’t know why Dad asked me to come.”
“He doesn’t need a fucking reason. He’s the head of the household. Show some fucking respect.”
I rub my lips together. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
His annoyance withers in the face of my contrition. “Apology accepted. So… you’re falling for Grace, I hear.”
The lift doors open at the lobby, allowing me to escape without answering.
I should’ve known he’d overhear me talking to Donovan.
The minute that guy speaks, Xan’s ears prick up and he tunes in on every word.
He waits until we’re situated in the car and it drives off before he brings up the subject again, in a way only Xan can.
“You know, being in love is life changing. I never would’ve thought I’d fall, but once I did, once I stopped fighting the inevitable, I realized it was sheer fucking bliss.
To know that she’s mine and I’m hers. That she’ll always have my back, and I will murder in cold blood anyone who hurts her.
It’s freeing.” He punches me on the arm. “Welcome to the club.”
“I’m not in love with Grace.”
Xan gives one of his ‘I smell bullshit’ nods. “Oh, I see. I could’ve sworn I overheard you telling Sinner about falling for the right one.” He runs a hand over his chin. “My mistake.”
“Falling for does not mean being in love with.”
“No, you’re right. They’re as different as chalk and… chalk.” Laughing, he pulls out his phone and taps on the screen.
My cheeks puff up as I blow out a slow breath. “You’re going to blab, aren’t you?”
“Already have. Check the family group chat. Don’t worry. I haven’t added Grace yet.”
I don’t need to check. The multiple vibrations in my pocket are all the evidence I need. “You’re a fucker.”
“No, I’m your eldest brother. Teasing is a key part of the job description.” He flashes me another shit-eating grin.
To hear him call himself my brother after what we discovered about his parentage makes me so fucking happy.
When we first discovered Dad’s brother was his biological father a few months ago, and he spat out that line of “I’m as much cousin as I am brother”, I thought the scar his words left behind on not just me but all of us would never heal.
Yet here we are, a few short months later, and he’s back to being the brother I’ve known and looked up to my entire life.
“Bastard,” I mutter, but I’m smiling at the same time.
We board the jet right on time, and once we’re in the air, I message Grace to let her know what time we’re due to arrive. I’ve never had someone to message before—no one outside of the family, anyway—yet now I have a wife who wants to know these things. A wife I want to tell these things to.
Is falling for someone and being in love with them all that different? Xan doesn’t think so. What I do know is as the wheels touch down at the private airfield where we house our jets and helicopters, my chest feels light, and my pulse jumps about like I’ve taken a shot of speed.
I’m excited to see Grace.
Before the car has come to a complete halt at the front entrance of Oakleigh, I dive out and race inside, taking the stairs two at a time. Even Xan’s throaty laughter doesn’t stop me, although I do flip him off behind my back, chuckling when he laughs even louder.
I burst through the door to my apartment and skid to a halt. Grace is curled up on the couch, knees tucked into her chest. She’s surrounded by empty packets and half-eaten snacks, and she’s crying.
No, not crying. Sobbing.
“What’s the matter?” I zoom over to the couch, dropping to my knees beside her. “Who upset you?” Whoever it is, they’ve breathed their last breath. No one hurts my wife and gets away with it.
She shakes her head, and her sobs get louder.
Okay, I’m panicking now. I brush damp strands of hair away from her face and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Talk to me, beautiful. Tell me what’s happened.”
“I-I…” She hugs her knees tighter. “I made a mess.” She motions to the crumbs scattered all over the table.
“You’re crying because you made a mess?” That can’t be it.
She shakes her head again. “No, I’m crying because I got my period, and it hurts. I’ve been cramping for hours. I hate periods. I hate being a woman. I hate snacking. Okay, I don’t hate snacking. I’m a snacking champion. But I hate everything else.”
Relief swamps me, and I drag both hands over my face. Then I do the worst thing possible. I laugh. Oh, but I don’t stop there. No. I also say, “Oh, is that all? I thought something was really wrong. I was ready to commit bloody murder.”
The look she gives me is meant to shrivel my balls. “That’s right. Laugh. It’s all right for guys. You whine about having to shave, but you can even get out of that by growing a beard. I’ll tell you what. I’ll kick you repeatedly in the stomach and see how you like it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever whined about shaving.”
The amount of air that shoots out of her nose as she huffs has the power to blow over one of the five-hundred-year-old oak trees dotted all over Oakleigh. “Why do men do that?”
“Do what?”