I Choose You (The Billionaire Brothers Series) (47 page)

His family.

A smirk formed on his lips as he watched them all bustle out of their vehicles, frenetic, racing each other up the steps to the house. They were all afraid of him, this he knew. Afraid of how he’d react to their tardiness. Afraid of getting on his bad side — because nobody liked being on Marcello Nelson’s bad side.

He liked that everyone in his family feared him. It was quite the power to have, no lie. However, he wasn’t that way just for the sake of being an asshole. He wasn’t a megalomaniac as they all seemed to think. He didn’t use his puissance to bring people under submission just because he could. Not at all.

Marcello was a family man. Nothing meant more to him in the world than his family. So he acted the way he did with his family because he wanted them all to be successful in their own right. To walk their own path. Build their own strength. Master their own world. And to love each other, value each other, look out for each other, and take care of each other — because a family bonded was the greatest form of strength and alliance there was.

Uncaring of how they viewed or regarded him, he stood over their backs and made sure they chose the right career path, the right women, the right future. Making decisions that were durable, eternal even — legacies lasting for generations to come.

The women he’d chased off from his sons weren’t women who were worthy of them. And he was positive they were thankful, though they would never admit it aloud. He’d wanted strong women for his sons: women who could stand on their own two feet and fight, women who didn’t need their husband’s spotlight to shine. Women, who could take over, take control if their husbands should suffer any infirmities. The ones who ran at his first cold glower, were ones who didn’t have what it takes to be a Nelson.

That’s what made Sadie his favorite daughter-in-law. She was a fighter. He wouldn’t let her know the depth of his love for her, though — well, at least not until his lawyer read his will.

Axia, she was innately a fighter. Powerful. One who intimidates the intimidator. He never once had any concerns where she was concerned — she was a gem, the epitome of what a strong woman should be.

Krissan, he considered her cool and deadly: innocuous on the outside, insidious on the inside. She was like a snake you observed, charming from a distance, learning her secrets and disarming her before getting too close — he
adored
her.

Marcello took one last drag and butted out his cigar on the windowsill. Now, he could die peacefully, knowing his sons, his entire family, would thrive. They’ve all made perfect decisions, and he was proud of them. He fought long enough to stay alive — for them — beating their backs, making sure they got it right.

Now, his work was done.

He could go to rest with a smile, knowing without a single doubt in his mind that his clone, Natalio, would do an excellent job protecting and taking care of the family. Natalio, his third child, was everything Marcello was and more. He would be a better guardian for the Nelsons than Marcello ever was; he was sure of this.

Marcello tried to force back the tears threatening to leave his eyes. His will was already drafted, everything tightly in order. Even his beautiful wife finally came to terms with the inevitable. So, it was safe to reveal what he’d been hiding.

They would be shocked, of course. No one but his wife knew he was a smoker. A chain-smoker. A nasty habit he’d been unable to break. Even now when he was dying slowly from lung cancer, he was still unable to break the habit.

Early last year, he was told by his doctor he had less than two years to live. Now it was down to less than five months. He had put on a front of fitness and health to conceal his deplorable condition. Time was running out, and letting his family know the truth was long overdue.

He wouldn’t live to see another Thanksgiving, so even though he knew they were all shaking in their boots downstairs, expecting him to blow their heads off for being late, this Thanksgiving dinner would be different, a mellow one. No cold, hard stares, brash words, or berating from the powerful Marcello Nelson tonight.

One, because it was their last Thanksgiving with him — he needed to leave at least one good memory of himself with them. And, two, because at the end of the feasting, toasting, and thanksgiving, he would break devastating news to them.

Their powerful, formidable father was going to die.

See, kids? I’m mortal, just like you are.

Turning on his heels, Marcello started out of the room, ready and willing to spend his last Thanksgiving dinner with his family in the best fashion he possibly could.

It was then the tears sparingly came in single, meaningful drops.

Drop.

Natalio, you are strength, power, reliance, focus and determination. When I go, you will supplant me, standing in as head of the family and be a better leader than I.

Drop.

Lovello, you are merriment, laughter, wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. When I go, you will be the one to keep values and upright living alive in the family, reminding everyone it’s okay to smile, laugh, and enjoy life.

Drop.

Trevillo, you are rebellion, redemption, contradiction, growth, and change. When I go, you will be the healer in the family, reminding everyone bad trees can indeed bear good fruit — I’m proud of you most of all.

Drop.

I love all of you.

Drop. Drop.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Flowing tears.

THANK YOU
:

To my God: the most high
Jehovah
.

I wade through life boldly, faithfully, hopefully because I know You are there, right by my side. I’m bad, so very bad, but You love me all the same. More so because I’m bad than I’m good; because You are not here for the perfect, but the imperfect. Thank you for being my companion, my provider, my healer, my deliverer, the One I can talk to when no one’s there to lend a listening ear. I. LOVE. YOU.

To Mrs. K. Wignall.

My wifey — who also happen to have three kids and a husband. Woman, I love you.
Hard
. You are my name, address and telephone number — because I have none of my own! Half the times we’re oceans apart, but our bond remains strong. Thank you for being an amazing, badass amiga.

To Tirza.

The woman with a big heart. Real. Genuine. Authentic. I archive your unfailing messages of support and encouragement, and whenever I’m feeling like a big, fat loser, I read them for invigoration. Your faith in me, hunnii, keeps me going. And I know that, at the end of the day, when everyone stops believing in me, I will always have one person in my corner, and that’s you. I cherish you. I heart you. I miss you. Worlds away, but our friendship will never decay.

To Vashti.

You know your special place in my heart. Love you
loads
.

To the amazing KarenAnne L.

Oh lawd, what a
mess
this book would have been without you! Readers would be bombarded with over a thousand of the unnecessary words ‘that’ and ‘then’ had it not been for your red pen (translate track changes). Thank you. Thank you. Thank You!

To the readers.

Your exuberant messages and emails keeps me writing. Thank you
so
much for taking a chance on my stories!

And to all, I say:

S
. Ann Cole is a passionate writer and reader, and a lover of anything that distracts her from the real world. Ms. Cole is not your typical girl. She hates chocolate, candle-lit dinners and all that hearts and flowers stuff makes her feel awkward, coffee makes her drowsier than ever, and she tends to talk to herself,
a lot
.

Having an obsessive and unquenchable affair with the written word, she’s naturally a recluse who dwells inside her imagination and has to suffer continual bashings from her friends for being a neglectful pal who does nothing but sit around the computer all day, writing.

Like a big kid, Ms. Cole loves watching Disney Channel, enjoys a big bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal and prays to our God like it’s nobody’s business — well, it really isn’t. When she isn’t abusing her computer keyboard, you can find her nosing a novel, nursing a glass of red wine, tweeting about every minuteness of her life, or disturbing her neighbors with her rugged voice, trying and failing to hit those notes of Beyonce’s
Listen
(she really ought to leave the singing department alone!)

Lean in a little closer, here’s a secret she wants to share with you. Yes,
you
. S. Ann Cole can
easily
be bought with a really, really good bottle of red wine. Shh, don’t tell anyone, okay? *wink*

Twitter
@AnnColeRomance 
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Website 
www.AnnCole.net

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S. Ann Cole

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T
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