Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
His eyebrows go up. “You know Bellamy too?”
“I know of him,” I correct, completely thrown by the new information. He actually is related to someone here. Not a bodyguard but a brother. “You worked for your father, but you haven’t known Bellamy long? How does that work?”
His handsome face hardens, just enough that I can tell he doesn’t like the answer he’s about to give.
“I’ve known about him for years, but he didn’t know about me, and I got the sense no one ever wanted us to meet.
Probably because I’m a bastard, not the prodigal son.
I never tried to contact him because I didn’t want to cause a rift with his family.
” He hesitates again. “Bellamy found out after our father died. When the lawyers read the will.”
Several dozen dramatic made-for-fiction will-reading moments flash in my head—scenes of botoxed fifth wives, outrage and secret revelations.
I honestly have no other frame of reference for that kind of situation.
I’ve never even aspired to having will-reading amounts of money.
After adding to my savings, donating to the summer camp’s school-supplies fund and paying the bills, I’m lucky if I have any extra money at the end of the month.
That doesn’t mean I can’t imagine how shitty that entire situation might be.
“It must have been hard for both of you. Him finding out like that.”
His brown eyes flash. “Neither one of us was thrilled. But at his husband’s suggestion, I agreed to spend some time in the city, getting to know him. So far it hasn’t gone well. Still, when Seamus and the children asked me to come here and try one last time before I left, I agreed to that too.”
Before he left. And here, but not at the lodge. “Wow, Michael. You were giving off some mysterious vibes, but I had no idea they were about will readings and secret brothers. Just wow.” My eyes widen. “The kids. That’s who you forgot to do Christmas shopping for.”
It would have been his first time shopping for the four kids Bellamy adopted as his own after marrying Seamus.
He grins ruefully. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
I tap my temple. “I’m a teacher. I collect details to use as leverage when my kids start acting out.”
“Clever. And I’m not the only mysterious one. Do you want to tell me about your spying now? Before you mentioned the band, you said that’s why you were here.”
I could say no. Tell him I was loopy from the cold and didn’t know what I was saying. But it wouldn’t feel right after his truth bomb. “It’s not much of a secret either, and nothing compared to what you just told me. Silly, when you think about it.”
“Indulge me.”
“Fine. Bex was suspicious when the band I sang with the night we met—the one I turned down—called me out of the blue and begged me to do this one job with them. They offered me my own suite for the weekend, with two adjoining rooms and all the spa amenities, along with a nice fee for a one-night performance. No bar band, even if they’re working all the time, can afford that kind of generosity.
I knew it, and they basically admitted it to me. That I was a special request.”
“That does sound suspect.”
I agree. “Bex did some digging and found out it was a Finn family gathering, that Kate and Tanaka, both of whom have a very personal stake in getting her to talk to them again, were going to be here. She’s been avoiding them since that night.
She figured they knew I was spending all my time with her, and they thought she’d come as my plus one and be?—”
“Trapped,” Michael finishes for me. “Or at least, inconvenienced enough for her to give him—or them—a chance to apologize face to face.” He nods his head slowly. “It sounds like something he would try, especially if all regular channels were closed. He’s not a fan of the word no.”
“Exactly what Bex thought. I was going to turn it down, but she asked me to come here and tell her everything that was happening instead. I don’t know what she was expecting.
No one spilled any secrets she’d be interested in.
At least, not around me.” My smile is wry.
“I admit to liking gossip, but I’m no Nancy Drew.
Still, I can do anything for a weekend if it will make her feel better. ”
“You’re a good friend.” Michael licks his lips. “Win, what happened that night was?—”
“Unacceptable,” I interrupt grimly. “And avoidable. Believe me, I’ve told her exactly that, multiple times.”
“You don’t blame the attackers? Her boss?”
“I have plenty of blame to go around. But she didn’t just volunteer for the job, Michael. It was her idea. She was pushing to get off the computer and out from behind the concierge desk. She wanted a dangerous assignment.”
“Why?”
“She’s got her wrong-headed reasons, but believe me, she’s also gotten a taste of my intervention wrath. I made slides and everything.” I snag another macaron. “Let’s talk about something that makes me feel less like kicking someone in the balls.”
His flinch is so small I would have missed it if I weren’t looking. “So, unemployed investigating researcher Michael Demir,” I say with a little grin. “You got the name but none of the cool toys or playboy lifestyle? Just a traveling cubicle? How did that happen?”
“That’s not a subtle subject change.”
“But you’ll tell me because you still owe me more back story after my overshare.”
He nods slowly. “Okay then. But I should start at the beginning. Mom spent a summer in Paris after high school to immerse herself in art. My father—who she later learned was married at the time, though not to Bellamy’s mother—swept her off her feet for a few weeks, and then he moved on and she went home.
When she found out about me, she let him know.
Not because she wanted anything from him, but because she thought it was the right thing to do.
He was already divorced and dating yet another runway model, but he didn’t deny it or send his lawyers after her.
Just set up an extremely generous account for my upkeep, requesting I keep his name and that he be given a say in my education.
There was some paperwork involved, and she signed it.
” His eyes narrowed on mine. “I never blamed her. The ranch has been in our family for generations, and they were barely scraping by before I came. She didn’t want me to grow up struggling. ”
The former Demir patriarch had been beyond rich by all accounts, so he could probably afford to change a few families’ lives without it even making a dent in his world. He was practically in the “I can build a phallic spaceship for kicks if I want to” club.
“So he gave you a tutor and his name, and enough money to help keep your mother worry free.”
“He managed his problem and utilized an asset to its fullest potential,” Michael corrected, the remaining warmth in his expression disappearing so swiftly I almost shiver with its absence.
“But we weren’t worry free. Which is why I mentioned avoiding town.
People talk in small towns. And our family gave them plenty to talk about. ”
Oh. I can imagine. Two confirmed bachelors and a pregnant, unmarried sister mysteriously coming into large sums of money. That would do it. People could be such cruel, nosy assholes.
I almost apologize for bringing it up, because that is a truckload of baggage he’s holding on to. Not that I don’t have a similar set labeled “Fashionably Resents Parental Figures.” I just like to hide it in the back of my closet and try to forget about it whenever possible.
Great job, Win. He saves you and cooks for you, and you send him into a depressive spiral about his shitty dad. Why don’t you talk about LBJ’s dick again, you ruiner?
I can’t leave things like this. Something tells me he’s been simmering in it for a while now, especially with this whole brother situation. He said it wasn’t going well. Are his feelings about his father getting in the way of him connecting with Bellamy?
“You know, I’m supposed to sing Just the Way You Are by Billy Joel at the party on Sunday,” I say casually, feeling him out.
“The matriarch of the Finns is a Piano Man fangirl. Did they ever tell you about the time your brother tried to win Seamus back by hiring him to sing for his future mother-in-law?”
“What? No. No one’s mentioned that.”
“My information is only thirdhand, since I heard it from Bex, who heard it from Brady Finn. But from what I understand, he closed down the entire block, enlisted most of the Finns for help and brought in Billy to sweeten the pot before he proposed to Seamus. It was insane, but very romantic. They’ve been married for almost ten years now, and his devotion appears unwavering. To Seamus and their children.”
I’m not out here trying to be Bellamy’s fluffer or anything. I just want Michael to know that he doesn’t sound like their unfaithful father to me.
“I always thought he was like the rest of them,” he says, confirming my thoughts. There’s a hint of regret in his voice. “Spoiled. Shallow. Careless with money and oblivious to the human fallout they leave behind.”
I hold up my hand. “I won’t lie to you. In my paycheck-to-paycheck opinion, Bellamy Demir is obviously a little careless with his money.
And if he hadn’t funded Bellamy House to shelter and protect victims of sexual abuse, or donated a ridiculous amount to the city, I would probably judge him a little for it.
I’m pretty sure his husband did when he first met him.
Seamus is a well-known champion for the underdog. ”
“He’s a good man,” Michael agrees. “And his kids are… Well, they’re great kids. Kind and smart and clearly well loved. Maybe they rubbed off on Bellamy. Changed the way he saw things.”
I cover his hand with mine. “I’m sure they did, but we’re all more than one thing, Michael. We can be bad with money and loyal. Loving and selfish. We are a jumbled collection of our scars and medals. And all our moments, good and bad, keep shaping us throughout our lives.”
“Is that a teacher’s way of saying people are shitty, but we shouldn’t judge them because we are too?”
“I’m all about teachable moments. But that was my way of saying that if you want to give this thing with your brother a chance—and you must, since you accepted the invitation—you should go into it with an open mind instead of misplaced preconceptions.
Don’t make him carry someone else’s sins.
Give him a chance to piss you off with his own flaws instead. ”
His lips quirk. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
We stare at each other, everything we just shared hovering in the space between us.
We come from different places and we’ve had very different experiences, but underneath it all is this connection I still can’t shake or deny.
In spite of the constant low hum of arousal that surrounds me in his presence, I actually feel comfortable with him.
Eating and talking over coffee, sharing our histories with no expectations or judgement. Just acceptance.
Is it the man or the moment? It could be because we’re cut off from the rest of the world by a white wall of snow, safe in this warm cabin.
Our own island. Where there’s no future to worry about and no obligations to fulfill.
Just two men baring our souls and two tiny dogs that snore like lawnmowers.
If I have to be stuck in a Snowpocalypse with anyone, I’m glad it’s him.
He turns his palm and tangles his fingers with mine. “You really do have beautiful eyes, Win.”
It should have sounded like a cheesy pickup line but his delivery is too sincere for me to doubt him. When his thumb caresses my hand, I feel it everywhere. A zap of electricity. This kind of chemistry can’t be forced or faked, only experienced.
“You’re not the first to tell me that. A few months ago, some dude with Thor hair and a rockin’ bod was so mesmerized by them he invited me back to his hotel room.”
He laughs again. Score. “Thor hair?”
“Since I didn’t know you cut it, I may or may not have been fantasizing about you wielding a hammer.”
“And today? Now that you know?”
To keep myself from jumping him, I inhale one last fancy cookie.
“Today, I survived the elements and was rescued by the short-haired winner of baking, who has a very interesting life and happens to like my eyes. If it weren’t for my ankle, I would think it was all a lovely and incredibly detailed dream. ”
Michael leans in closer. “Today I heard someone singing in the woods and had the man I’d been fantasizing about for months fall into my arms.”
I smile. “What a day.”
“What a day,” he repeats softly.
Michael stands and circles the island until his thighs are pressing into my knees, then snares me with a heated look. “It’s not over yet.”
“Is that a promise or a challenge?”
He cups my jaw with his hands, studying my features. He’s giving me a chance to push him away, but that’s the last thing I want to do. He sees the answer in my eyes, and slowly lowers his mouth to mine.
He tastes like rough-and-growly man-cake with please-fuck-me frosting and I’m still hungry for him. I follow his lead as he devastates me with a kiss that is pure domination and needneedneed .
How is this lip-lock better than the first one that completely blew my mind?
Did he spend those missing months at the School of Win, memorizing every secret desire I’ve ever had?
Because it feels like he might have. A nip here.
A tease of the tongue there. Sucking just like that .
It’s so blatantly sexual it’s almost disrespectful. So good it scares me.
“Are you sure?” he asks when he raises his head for a ragged breath. “You’ll tell me if I’m crossing a line? If you’re hurting or you need me to stop?”
My ankle is wrapped, I’m warm and fed, and my head doesn’t hurt anymore. All I can think about is finally finishing what we started in the pub. Finally knowing what this kind of passion feels like.
“More,” I whisper, leaning toward his mouth. “Please, Michael.”