Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (21 page)

It would have been too rushed. Too little time would have been spent on learning each other’s bodies, what we felt like, how we like to be touched, licked, sucked, nibbled on. And that would have been a damn shame. When we get the chance to be intimate with each other, I want to be able to take our time. I want to savor the connection, bodily and emotionally to the only man I’ve ever truly loved.

“Excuse me, Missy. Have you heard a word I’ve said in the last half hour? You’ve been away with the fairies, and while it looked like a lovely trip, I need to know if you’re happy with the style I’ve decided will work best with your dress.” Ah, Ernesto. Who could forget about my diminutive, Cuban, flamboyantly homosexual, hair artiste? His words, not mine.

For the last, however long, because truthfully, I have no clue how long he’s been waffling on for, Ernesto has been talking about the pros and cons of extra-hold and maxi-hold hairspray. This is a conversation much better suited to Harper in all her feminine glory than me.

Harper would have known exactly what to say, been able to debate the benefits of either side of the argument, and probably simultaneously painted her nails and waxed her legs. Me, on the other hand, I didn’t even know there
were
different types of hairspray. Let’s face it, I’m lucky if I remember to shave all the appropriate places, brush my hair, and slap on a coat of lip gloss and mascara before leaving the house.

“Sorry, Ernesto,” I mumble apologetically. “I was lost in thought. I’m back now, though, and all yours.” Gesturing to my unruly hair, I offer, “Whatever you think will look best is fine. Honestly, I’ve got no idea about that kind of thing. I’m more the throw it in a ponytail and hope for the best kind of girl.”

“Hmm,” he hums happily. “Girly, girl, you have to take care of the beautiful locks your good genetics has blessed you with. I would kill for hair like yours,” he exclaims, running his fingers reverently through its thick, length. “One day, you’ll appreciate what your Momma gave you, mark my words. Hair like this doesn’t stay this healthy for long, precious.”

Choosing to leave that subject alone, I ask,

“So how long have you been doing hair, Ernesto?”

He picks up the straightening iron, a roller brush, and a hank of my hair before.

“About as long as you’ve been daydreaming about whatever man that’s put that sly smile on your face,” he says, grinning wickedly, waggling his manicured eyebrows up and down in the floor-length mirror in front of me.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” I deny unconvincingly.

“Sure you don’t, Sweetie. I’ve seen that look before, and it can only be because of one of two reasons. One, you’ve just gotten yourself some and are planning on getting yourself some more. But that doesn’t usually go hand-in-hand with twenty-five minutes of staring into space googly-eyed. Or, two, and this is the option I’m betting on; you’ve met the love of your life, and you’re working out how soon is too early to plan the wedding and get knocked up with his beautiful love-child. Now, put little, old, Ernesto out of his misery and confirm my suspicions, would you? And chop, chop, I hate being kept in suspense.” He ends on a knowing smirk.

Well, I wouldn’t go as far as to say he was on the money with either of his assumptions, exactly, but he was close.

“Nope,” I say, popping the P. “No marriage and no babies, but I’ll concede the love part. Not specifically the way you described it, but you were close.”

I don’t know why I feel comfortable talking to, Ernesto, but there’s something about him that leads me to believe he’s an excellent listener, not judgmental in the slightest, and genuinely interested in what’s got me so distracted. Call me insane, but he puts me at ease and I’ve only known him for the sum total of an hour. If that.

Continuing to mess around with my hair, he cocks an eyebrow and me flourishing his free hand wildly.

“Now, I just have to know. You can’t give me a teaser like that and then clam up on me, precious. Spill it,” he demands. “Give up the goods or I make you look like an elderly woman, sporting a beehive, split ends, and flyaways.”

Letting, a scarce for me, giggle escape, I pat Ernesto’s forearm.

“Let’s not be hasty now. I’ll happily tell you if you promise not to do anything we’ll both regret later.”

Sighing dramatically, he retorts.

“You’re right, I would regret messing with the perfection of your hair, but don’t think I won’t if I think you’re holding out one me. I’m a whiz with a teasing comb, mousse, and a few strategically placed bobby pins.”

I throw my hands up indicating my surrender, and prepare to discuss my most recent internal struggle as it pertains to, Rob. This isn’t the first time I’ve battled what I’ve felt for him, but it is the first time I’ve had an unbiased ear to share my hopes, fears, and insecurities with.

While Harper was my rock as I fell apart after Rob left town, she was always firmly entrenched in my corner. That’s not a bad thing, it just means she wasn’t necessarily the most impartial of people to have around when I needed an honest opinion. Harper was always quick to side with me. She claimed my feelings and how I reacted to his disappearance was perfectly healthy, whether it was or not. She’s loyal like that.

“I’m not going to go into all the sordid details and sad tale surrounding us because it’s a long story and we’d be here forever. So, let’s just say; we have history and it’s not all good. We grew up together during our awkward teenage years and beyond, and he broke my heart when he didn’t return my feelings, taking off the day he turned eighteen,” I say, my heart beating faster at the memory.

“Okay, so, boy meets girl, girl falls for boy, unrequited love, and loss, got it,” Ernesto confirms, a little too cheerfully for my liking.

Laughing humorlessly, I incline my head to signal my agreement.

“That’s about it, or it’s enough for the sake of the current conversation anyway.”

“Obviously, he’s back or you wouldn’t have your sexy, little thong in a bunch, so let’s go from there, shall we?” He prompts smiling widely.

Huffing, I lean back lessening the space he has to work with, which earns me a sharp tug on my hair.

“Ouch,” I grimace. “Easy there, I’m not a practice head. I have feelings and nerve endings, Ernesto.”

“Well, stop delaying the inevitable, and stop squirming. I can’t work my magic with you wriggling all over the place,” Ernesto snaps back.

“Fine, fine,” I pout. “Anyway, Rob, that’s his name, by the way, ended up coming back to, Dallas after finding himself in a situation he couldn’t stay in, reconnected with my brothers who own the company I work for and decided to stay. That would have been fine, if not for the fact it puts him in direct contact with me every day, but it does and that’s caused a few issues to say the least. But it’s what happened the day before yesterday that has me questioning myself,” I say groaning under the weight of that thought.

“Right, well, what’s the problem exactly?” he enquires. “Is he hideous? Does he hurt you? Did he plunder your lady-business and destroy your virtue? What?”

Laughing openly now, I roll my eyes at his questions. Destroy my virtue? What the hell? I think it was a little late for that, but I appreciate what Ernesto’s trying to do. I didn’t think making jokes at the expense of the quandary I’m in would be welcome, but the results speak for themselves. I feel myself start to relax at his light-hearted approach.

“No, nothing like that. Rob wouldn’t hurt a woman if it was the last thing he did, and he’s far from hideous. He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of men in my line of work. None of the hold a candle to him.”

“I hear you, Chiquita,” he says placing a hand over his heart. “My Paul and I have been together for eight blissful years and I feel the same way about him as you do about your man. What I don’t understand is why you look so torn up about that?”

“Because it’s not that simple, Ernesto,” I reply flatly. “Every time Rob has been faced with a difficult situation, one he can’t see his way out of on his own, he runs. Granted, I completely understand why he did back then, I probably would have too, but I can’t give my heart to a man who takes off at the first sign of trouble. I won’t.”

Shaking his head sadly, he sympathizes.

“Oh, girly, I don’t blame you for feeling like that, and I don’t think anyone else would either. The thing is; people change. Time and experience matures people, though, and that means we should open our hearts enough to give them a second chance. Has something happened to make you think he’d run again if you explored a relationship with him?”

That’s a fantastic question, and the answer is, no. But that doesn’t mean he won’t in the future. And ultimately that’s what I’m afraid of. What happens if somewhere down the track we hit a rough patch and he up and leaves me again? Hypothetically speaking, of course, because right now I don’t know if that’s even in the cards for us. A relationship that is.

“He hasn’t had the chance to prove he’s changed either way,” I concede. “Everything happened so fast. One minute he was asking to talk to me, which I did, and the next I was kissing him. As in, practically mauling him. I don’t know what came over me, but I was powerless to stop it. He’s always had that effect on me; me feeling drawn to him as if we’re tied by an invisible thread or something.”

Expertly twisting my curled hair into artful loops, pinned loosely to the crown of my head, Ernesto hums under his breath before saying,

“If that’s the case then it looks like you’ve got a difficult choice to make, precious. You can choose the safe route, which will mean you’ll never have to risk your heart being broken, at least not by this man; or you can take a risk. On him and for you. Personally, I like to take risks, it makes me feel alive. But I’m not you, and I sense your life isn’t one that’s been filled with mundane and boring so I can understand why you’d be hesitant to complicate it again. But I have to ask you this; how would you feel if you didn’t take a chance on him and you could have ended up having a beautiful, full life, with a man who adores you? What if you let that opportunity pass you by, and had to live with that regret for the rest of your life? What would you do then?”

I spare that question some thought, and fear the answer I come up with. Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I would feel devastated knowing with certainty I had given up on my chance at happiness.

There are few things I’ve wished for in my lifetime, but that’s one of them; happiness. A solid, extraordinary connection to someone who makes me feel complete. Like my soul has found its other half. That’s another one. But until now, until Rob, I didn’t think I’d have the opportunity to have those feelings for someone again. I thought I lost my chance when he took his first step over the Texas state line. However, faced with a second chance, a new light to an old flame, I recognize a spark of excitement. Excitement, and something else.

Something that feels an awful lot like hope.

              Watching Alysia get ready to go out on a date with another man, a man who isn’t me is something that can only be best described as torture. Seeing her fuss over her hair, touch up her makeup, makeup she doesn’t usually wear, and examine her reflection from every angle in the windows of Max’s penthouse is fucking devastating.

She looks stunning. Truly magnificent. Spectacularly so, and that has everything inside clawing at me to tell her she can’t go tonight. I want to demand she cancel this shit with Max, forget about finding whoever’s making his life hell, and agree to go somewhere with me instead. I don’t care where that is, we could go to a laundromat for all I cared, I just wanted her with me, not him. Realistically, I know that’s not going to happen, and forcing it won’t help matters, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to, consequences be damned.

The sight of her bare skin illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows is breathtaking. Literally oxygen stealing. I haven’t taken a breath since she walked into the room, and that was over five minutes ago. Her dress isn’t as risqué as some, it doesn’t show a lot of skin in comparison to most, but what it does show is emphasized by the dip of the neckline at her clavicle and the crossing of the fabric beneath her ample bust.

I can honestly admit; I have never seen a woman look more beautiful than Alysia does at this moment.

Her hair is artfully curled, expertly pinned at the top of her head, a few stray pieces trailing down her neck and over her shoulders. She’s not wearing any jewelry, not that she needs it, the sparkling beads on the short sleeves is more than enough sparkle without detracting attention from the wearer. I would never have thought to dress Alysia in gray, but it brings out her eyes. Compliments them. They seem even more intense, strikingly vivid against the backdrop if that can be believed.

The terrifyingly tall, strappy heels she’s wearing turn my thoughts to the dangerously sexy side. What I wouldn’t give to see her in those and nothing else. Naked and exposed for my eyes to feast on, wearing only the shoes as her legs wrap around my back, her heels digging into the dip at the base of my spine as I pound into her with abandon. I wouldn’t stop until she was writhing, begging me to put her out of her misery, and screaming my name so loud my ears were ringing.

But in the end, it’s the whole package that blows me away. Her elegance as she appears to glide effortlessly across the room in heels that look uncomfortable and painful to walk in.

The way her dress caresses her ankles as her hips sway seductively side-to-side has me fighting the hard-on quickly filling out the crotch of my jeans. She doesn’t know it, but every man in the banquet room hasn’t been able to tear their eyes off her from the second she walked in. The fact she doesn’t realize how sexy she is, only adds to her allure.

I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight, truthfully, I didn’t want to be. I knew seeing her here, on his arm, hanging on his every word like the dutiful girlfriend she’s pretending to be would be hard. I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be. It’s taking every ounce of my self-restraint not to go over to where they’re standing with two other couples, and tear her away from Max. I want everyone to know she’s mine, not his, but that would defeat the purpose of being here, doing, this, and it sure as fuck wouldn’t earn me a place in Alysia’s good books, that’s for sure.

“You okay, Man?” Jeb asks, clasping my shoulder. Giving it a few hard slaps for good measure.

I hadn’t even heard him approach, that should tell you how much attention I’m paying to anything that isn’t
her
.

“Other than hating this shit, I’m good, Jeb. I can’t wait for tonight to be over, to get her out of here,” I reply gruffly.

“Jean-Luc and I can cover things for a bit if you want to take a breather. Maybe some fresh air will help clear your head,” the huge man offers.

Jeb and Jean-Luc were late additions to the team, but I can’t say I’m not grateful for their help. Peter has proved to be as worthless as I’d assumed he’d be, I didn’t trust him worth a damn, and definitely not when it came to protecting Alysia. Actually, especially then. I had no doubt he’d save himself if all hell broke loose, and he wouldn’t feel a seconds’ guilt or shame over it either. He’d leave men, women, and children alike to suffer if it meant he’d be getting out unscathed. Hence, the call I placed to Brookes asking for extra backup. He wasn’t happy about calling in anyone else, he wanted to keep this in-house after all, but he conceded the point quickly, roping Jean-Luc and Jeb in for tonight’s recon mission.

“Nah, I’m cool,” I decline, taking a healthy swig of the ten-year-old scotch I’d ordered.

Scanning the room, his eyes always moving never lingering, Jeb mutters,

“Haven’t seen anything out of the norm, nothing suspicious unless you count an old dude with one foot already in the grave following a woman a third of his age, who’s not his wife, out into the hallway that is. How long they planning to stay at this shindig, do you know?”

When I’d gone over the details Alysia had finalized with her this morning, I’d asked the same thing. She told me it was only a cocktail party, organized so that they filthy rich could rub shoulders with other elitist assholes, hopefully making connections that would only make them even better off financially.

I wasn’t interested in that sort of shit so I had no idea how parties like these worked, but she assured me if there was no sign of the guy within a couple of hours we were out of there. I can’t say that it filled me with joy at the prospect of having to play nice with people, but I’d do it for Alysia. I’d do anything for her.

On a whole, catty, trophy wives who look like they’ve overdone it with the Botox, men who value their stock portfolios over their wives, and divorcees who are chomping at the bit to land their next sugar Daddy aren’t my cup of tea. I’ve never been drawn to this lifestyle and never will be. The few times the Fitzsimmons were forced to take Thomas and me to one of these things, I’d always seen the people who were invited as shallow, self-absorbed, entitled pricks.

It was obvious, even to me at thirteen-fourteen, the upper-class wasn’t only segregated from the rest of society by their bank balance, but by their attitudes too. Born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths, they didn’t only think they were better than everyone else, they believed it. Owned it. Lived it. That sense of entitlement reached beyond own circles, spilling into the lives of people they deemed as beneath them.

It affected how they treated, talked down to, and looked at others, and I hated it. It disgusted me to see these fat, rich, pompous bastards yell at servers working their gatherings with disdain, dismissing them as human beings without a thought to their feelings. Wait staff are people too, you know?

“Two, two and a half hour’s tops,” I finally answer him.

“Good thing that, because I’m itchy as hell in this monkey suit, I want an American beer, and I think I’m becoming allergic to all the bullshit flying around the room. It’s enough to make a man’s balls shrivel into his abdomen the way half these women talk. I’m telling you, Rob,” he says thoughtfully. “If I ever find me a woman like that, shoot me would you? Don’t let me make the mistake of letting one of these bitches sink her claws into me, because that’s a fate worse than death right there.”

And he’s not wrong, which causes a loud roar of laughter to escape me. Until now, I don’t think I’d even cracked a smile, but his off-handed comment has me doing one better. Laughing until my eyes water and my sides hurt, I don’t see that a third person has joined our party of two until a soft hand lands on my arm, squeezing gently.

“It looks like you two are having a hell of a lot more fun than I am. What’s got you so amused,” Alysia asks smiling broadly at me.

This is the first time she’s approached any of us, Jean-Luc included. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was in regards to acknowledging each other, but during the limo ride over, Alysia informed us it would be easy enough to explain the three of us are security personnel working for Max. That’s if it came up all, which I didn’t think it would. People like this didn’t usually spare more than a cursory glance at guy’s like us, and I didn’t believe that these snobs were any different.

Clearing that up brought me a small amount of comfort, knowing that I wouldn’t have to work my ass off to stay away from her all night. It was hard enough to keep my distance from her under normal circumstances, but with her dressed as she is, smiling, laughing, relaxed, it was proving to be impossible.

My eyes wandered to where she was standing every few seconds. Not a minute elapsed before I’d taken stock of where she was, who she was with, and what mood she was in. When we were young, I’d always been able to read Alysia’s moods with relative ease. She wore her emotions on her face, plain for anyone who was paying attention to see.

Even though most people didn’t bother to look, I did. Within months, I knew every nuance of her ever-changing attitude. If her nose was scrunched up, she was annoyed or frustrated. When she was considering something, trying to work out a complex problem, she would chew the left side of her bottom lip. If she were angry, she’d grind her teeth and a small vein at her temple would pop out, making itself known. Her excitement was easy to pick out of the litany of facial expressions because she would barely be able to contain it, bouncing on the balls of her feet, grinning like a loon her eyes would sparkle mischievously.

Shaking myself from my study of her, I smile in her direction and incline my head in the direction of the grand entry hall.

“You feel like taking a break and going for a walk with me?”

I know that’s not why we’re here, for her and I to disappear when we should be searching for the guy who’s the reason for us being here in the first place, but I can’t help wanting a minute alone with her. I didn’t get the chance to tell her how fabulous she looks before we left the penthouse tonight, and it would be a crying shame if she didn’t get to hear just how much I appreciate her shoes.

Considering my offer for a moment, Alysia eventually nods, turning toward the exit. Looking over her shoulder, she addresses Jeb,

“Do you mind keeping an eye out while we’re gone? I shouldn’t be too long, but if Max asks, I’m just getting some air, okay?”

“Sure thing, Doll. Brookes gave me your number earlier, so if there’s any movement I’ll give you a buzz,” he reassures.

“Thank you, Jeb,” she smiling before she begins to wind her way through the crowd.

“Just a word of advice, Man; don’t let that one slip through your fingers if you can do anything about it. She’s a rare breed woman; loyal, smart, beautiful, funny, and she obviously loves you. If I were you, I’d hang on tight and let her take me for the ride of a lifetime. Because that’s what it’d be; one hell of a ride,” Jeb states wisely.

Nodding, I shake his hand firmly.

“I don’t intend to. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine, Jeb, has been since we were kids. Now I’ve just gotta find a way to remind her of that.”

Turning, I follow after Alysia smirking. Jeb was right when said life with Alysia would be the ride of a lifetime, but I already knew that. I’ve always known that. It’s just that I wasn’t ready to sit down, buckle up, and hold on and experience it before. But now that I am, I’m looking forward to seeing what’s in store for us next.