Chapter 22
THE brEAKING
brYS
"And on that note, I'm going to leave you two alone to talk." Sophia rises and crosses the room, stopping in the doorway beside me. "He does have a heart in there, I promise. I'm hoping you're the woman to help him find it."
"How is Nico?" I ask.
She winces. "Out of surgery and resting. He'll make a full recovery, but it'll take time."
"And Pugli? Any word on him?"
A shake of her head. "No. He's in the wind. Sol went back and found tire tracks. He'd stashed a car. Sol followed the tracks to the road but lost them at the blacktop.”
"Lovely."
"We will find him. It's only a matter of time, now." She squeezes my shoulder. "Be patient with him."
I grin. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, you are." She smiles, squeezing my shoulder again before moving on. "And I'm glad."
With Sophia gone, I take the seat. Jakob is watching me intently, curiously—and with trepidation. "You're back," he says.
"I told you I was coming back."
He nods, but seems to find it hard to speak. "I know."
"Do you have any more secrets?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No. I…no. No more secrets."
"Then it's my turn." I am utterly terrified, and it's hard enough to let myself show him that, let alone say everything there is to say.
"Brys, you don't have to tell me anything."
"I appreciate you saying that. But I do." I pause, shake my head. "No, that's not true. I don't have to; I choose to."
"Why?" His voice is low, rough. Not at all his usual smooth, velvety, dark tone.
"You want to get into that first, huh?" I sigh, nod.
"Okay, fine. Because you challenge me. You scare me.
You confuse me. You make me feel safe. When I was with you, when we were running for our lives together, I was so scared.
Obviously. But you…you made me feel safe.
" I have to shut my eyes to find the rest. "Why?
Because I've never met anyone like you. You understand me.
You're not intimidated by me. I'm…I'm a strong woman, Jakob.
I'm loud. I'm opinionated. I'm powerful.
I'm wealthy. I wield a lot of authority.
No other man I've ever met has been able to accept that I am all of those things and not…
" I let out a breath, hunting for the right words.
"And not get intimidated, not—not feel like I threaten their masculinity.
Just the wealth aspect alone is too much for most guys I've dated. I don’t give a shit about money.
It doesn't impress me. I don't care about a stock portfolio or investment profile.
You're not going to impress me with your knowledge of financial products, how many houses you own, or how many hypercars are in your garage.
But then again, I am used to a certain lifestyle.
I care about appearances. I care about first impressions.
I'm not easy to impress, to be honest." I clear my throat.
"The brutal truth is that I don't like most men. I do like Charles, though, my ex. He’s the only man I've ever dated that I've come to respect. "
"Then why is he your ex?"
"We aren't suited, romantically. He…we…" I let out a breath. “I had a whole speech laid out, dammit, and you're derailing it."
"I'm sorry. I'll be quiet and let you speak."
"No, I…we broke up because I need someone who can take charge without shutting down who I am, and that's not Charles. He liked that I'm bold and in charge. He liked that I instigated sex. Sorry, that's—"
"No apologies," he says. "Just the truth."
I nod. "That's the truth. I was unsatisfied.
I loved him, emotionally. I suppose some part of me still does and always will care about him.
But I…we weren't…." I cover my face. "It feels shallow to say this, and I never did say it to him, but the honest truth is that I was unsatisfied sexually.
" I cackle, a hand over my mouth. "God, it feels good to admit that out loud. I've never told anyone that."
"Brys," Jakob whispers, his voice ragged. "I…"
"You had your turn," I say. "Don't make this about you." I touch his hand and smile to take the sting out of it. "There's so much for me to get out—so many things I've never even tried to put into words."
"Trust me, I know."
"I know you know," I tell him. "That's the only reason I'm even able to sit here and try. You understand. That's my point."
He watches me in silence as I regather my thoughts.
"I suppose I should start with the hardest thing," I mutter, as much to myself as to Jakob; I look at him, hold his gaze. "Why do you find it hard to trust people?"
He looks away, thinking. "Because I've…because I know I cannot be trusted. I am a liar, so I assume others are, too. I am devious, manipulative, and selfish, and I assume others are too."
I nod, sighing. I have to close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly a few times before I can make myself speak. "It was never supposed to be me."
"What wasn't?"
"BDI. The life I'm living. It was never supposed to be me."
"Then who was it supposed to be?"
"My sister," I whisper. "Britt."
I see him process this. "Sister?"
"Older by six years," I say. "I was an accident; Britt was the chosen one."
He doesn't ask the obvious question.
"My father was grooming her to take over for him her whole life.
And it's what she wanted—it's all she ever wanted.
She wore power suits to high school. Accelerated classes.
College credits her senior year. Interned for Russel Dempsey, dad's VP of operations, every summer during college.
She was the golden child. Did everything right.
Perfect grades, perfect behavior. Never snuck out, never got drunk, never had any pregnancy scares, just… perfect. All the time."
"That never goes well, in my experience," Jakob says. "Which means I don't like where this is going."
I acknowledge him with a nod, but that's it.
"I was always compared to her. ‘Why can’t you be more like Britt?’ they'd ask me.
If I fucked up, they'd point out that Britt never fucked up like that.
And what sucked the most about it was that she never rubbed it in.
Never lorded it over me. She was an amazing older sister.
Looked out for me. Let me tag along with her friends. "
It takes a few deep breaths to get going again.
"I wanted to be just like her. I started working at the office when I was fourteen.
Sorting mail in the mailroom, stuffing and stamping mailers, delivering intra-office mail, and packages.
I have never worked anywhere except BDI.
I dressed like her. I snuck into her room so I could organize my closet like hers because I saw how she did it, and it was so cool.
I…my first boyfriend was her boyfriend's younger brother.
She didn't like that very much." I laugh, remembering, then sober, shaking my head.
"I knew the big chair was never going to be mine. I was happy with VP."
"But?"
"My senior year at Yale, things were really taking off for the company.
They were expanding, investing in exciting new fields.
Things had been happening at a breakneck pace for a few years by then.
Britt was Dad's assistant—on paper, she was his PA, but in reality, she was essentially a junior VP.
She had a lot of leeway. He gave her freedom to use her judgment.
Let her take the lead on some big pitches and handle some big clients.
And as always, Britt came through. Everything she touched turned to fucking gold.
She invested four million into a startup no one had ever heard of, some niche little product that she just had a hunch was going to break out.
The board didn't like it and wanted to cut back on the slack Dad was giving her.
But Dad figured fuck it, it's only four mil—he could put that back into the accounts from his pay package in a worst-case scenario.
" I snort. "In less than two years, that company went public for over half a billion dollars.
Our investment was returned with significant interest. She had the Midas touch.
The board agreed with Dad, and they took off the training wheels.
Put her on the board, made her the youngest voting member by a good thirty years.
" My voice wavers, shakes. "She was destined for greatness.
I know that sounds melodramatic or whatever, but it's true.
And then, in February of my senior year, she took her own life. "
"Oh god…Brys."
"There are no words for the shock. Initially, it was…
we would have been less shocked to find out the moon really is made of cheese.
I don't know. There were no indications.
She was dating a great, great guy. He was planning to propose in a couple of months.
She'd had a string of wildly successful investments and pitches. We all had dinner together at this place way uptown that Mom loved. Mom and Dad stayed to drink wine and talk. I left to meet some friends at a bar, Bryan went to do I don’t know what, and Britt went home.
The last time I saw her alive, she was taking the keys to her car from the valet.
Her car, god. She loved that thing more than just about anything.
She bought it with cash. It was a 1989 Porsche 911 Targa 4S, in Porsche red.
Mint condition, all original. Just beautiful.
I mean, that's how fucking cool my sister was.
She didn't just drive a Porsche, she drove a classic Porsche. "
My eyes burn, and then sting, and then go hazy.
Jakob shifts on the bed, grunting, and then takes my hand. "I'm here, Brys."