The Billionaire’s Bride by L. Steele

13

Baron

I open the door to my apartment and Edward stares back at me.

"What the hell do you want?" I growl.

"We need to talk." He scowls back at me.

"Like hell, we do."

I am about to shut the door on his face, when he says, "It’s about Ava."

I glower at him, "We’ve already spoken with her about how she’s going to spend time with each of us—"

"She doesn’t want to see either of us."

"What?" I frown.

"She threw me out of the house."

I can't stop the smile that curves my lips. "She did, huh?"

"She wants time apart from both of us." He shoves past me and I watch as he prowls over to the window in the far corner of my loft-apartment.

I shut the door, walk over to stand in the center of the room.

"What do you mean? What the fuck did you do?"

"I mean exactly what I said." He drops his backpack on the floor. "We’ve both been pushing her… Too much, too quickly… Of course, it was bound to happen."

"Don’t go putting the blame of your desertion on me."

"It wasn’t desertion." He bites out the words as he stares out of the window. What does he see? The view of London spread out before him? His past…our pasts...as intertwined as it is because of the incident and what happened to us? His future...my future? Which, for some reason, seems to be just as closely twisted together… Thanks to one auburn-haired, green-eyed beauty who has ensnared both of us.

"What do you call it, then?"

He pivots to face me. "It’s called putting distance to get perspective, which I guess is what she’s trying to do right now."

"Is that what you think?" I scowl.

"What I think is not important." He leans forward on the balls of his feet. "Nor is what you think of consequence."

"Is that right?" I growl.

He nods. "The only thing that matters is that we respect her wishes—"

I open my mouth to speak and he raises his hand "—for now."

I set my jaw. "I’m not sure that’s wise."

"Why not?"

"If she has time alone to sort through things, what if she decides that she wants neither of us?"

"You mean, what if she decides that she doesn’t want you."

"Ava belongs to me," I grit out. "She was mine from the moment I saw her."

"She saw me first."

I ball my fists at my sides, and his lips twist. "Hurts to hear the truth, doesn’t it? I am her first love."

"She doesn’t love you."

His smile widens. "She does."

"Has she told you that?"

"You think I’d reveal that to you?" He looks me up and down.

"You’d say anything to get a rise out of me," I growl.

"You know, I am not lying." He raises a shoulder. "Besides, she understands and appreciates the sacrifice I made for her."

"If you mean leaving the priesthood, that was a long time coming, precipitated by your inability to keep your temper in check."

The smile vanishes from his face. Good.

"And we all know you joined the Church, purely as a means of escape." I scratch my jaw.

"Escape?"

I nod. "Fact is, you couldn’t deal with reality, you didn’t have the balls to face what had happened, so you turned your back on the world."

His features harden. "You should talk. You shipped out and joined the army. If there’s a deserter here, it’s you."

"Ah, see, that’s where we differ." I rock back on my heels. "At least, I was out fighting a battle. I was facing my fears while doing my best to protect innocent people, while you?" I shove my hand in the pocket of my slacks. "You were merely hiding from the inevitable."

He balls his fists at his sides, "Inevitable, huh? What’s that?"

"Revealing to the world that you are a coward, Edward." I bare my teeth. "You were a coward then, as you are now."

He takes a step forward and I hold up a hand, "Think carefully before you do anything else. We both know I am in far better shape than you. It won’t take me long to take you down."

"We’ll see, shall we?" He throws up his fists at the same time that there’s a hammering on the door.

We glare at each other.

"Were you expecting someone?"

I shake my head, glance around the space for a weapon, when a voice calls out, "Open the fucking door, wanker."

My shoulder muscles relax as Edward blows out a breath.

"Fucking Saint," he mutters.

"What the fuck does he want now?"

I pivot, head for the door, and fling it open. Saint stalks forward. He shoves my shoulder with his as he brushes past me and heads for Edward.

"Hello, asshole." Saint tilts his head.

Edward scowls back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You could be happier to see us now, considering we are childhood buddies and such?" Sinner saunters in through the door, followed by Damian, Arpad and Weston. Damian flings himself on the couch. Arpad wanders over to the bar in the far corner.

Weston walks toward Edward, "How’s the wound coming along?"

"I’ll survive," Edward snaps.

"Make yourselves comfortable," I call out sarcastically.

"No formalities, bro." Saint raises a hand, "You know us, we treat each other’s places as our own."

"Don’t I just?" I slam the door with enough force that the painting above the fireplace crashes to the floor. Good thing it came with the place, which I purchased a few years ago but never bothered to furnish. Considering I only crash here on the rare occasion I am in town. Not that any of them notice my little burst of temper. Short of dying…

"Whiskey." Arpad pulls a bottle of Macallan’s from the bar. "Don’t you have any fucking vodka?"

"Since when do you drink fucking vodka?" I scowl.

"Since he met Karina?" Damian chuckles.

I glare at Arpad. "You don’t even like fucking vodka."

"Guess I do, now." He places the bottle of whisky on the bar counter. "You missed out on a lot, ol’ chap.’ He tilts his head at me, "It’s good to have you back though."

"Yeah," I rub the back of my neck, "it’s still no excuse to drink at," I scowl at the watch on my wrist, "ten a.m.?"

"Oh, that’s where you’re wrong." Arpad smirks. "This drink isn’t for me."

"Who is it for, then?"

Five pairs of eyes turn on me.

"What?" I glare.

All of them shift their gazes to Edward.

"What?" He glowers at them. "This isn’t a fucking tennis match."

"Sure, could have fooled us." Saint cracks his neck. "That’s why we’re here anyway—to referee."

"We don’t need a referee," I growl.

"Oh?" Saint folds his arms across his chest, glances between us. "You two have some shit to sort out."

"That’s putting it mildly." I snort

"And we’re here to ensure you two don’t kill each other," Damian adds from his position on the settee.

I shoot him a glare, and his smile widens. Asshole’s enjoying himself.

Hell, all of them are. Tossers who have their lives all set up, wives, and kids on the way. They’ve managed to put their pasts behind them, managed to set to rest the ghosts from the incident. They’ve found their homes, have a future with their loved ones.

Me? I have none of that. Nothing, except a past as a soldier, the security company that I set up with Archer, and a future career as an investor; one which is going to take some adjustment. Not to mention a former best friend who is now my most hated enemy and a woman…who doesn’t belong to me yet. And am I going to let go of her that easily? Of course, not. She is all I have left in this world. The hope of being with her is the only solace I have left to look forward to. I cannot let go of this opportunity, to find out how it would be to be with someone who satisfies that craving deep inside of me.

"We are not going to kill each other." I blow out a breath, "We were merely discussing strategy."

"Strategy, huh?" Sinclair smirks. "Is that why the two of you were yelling at each other?"

"We weren’t…" I glance at Sinclair, who tilts his head.

"We could hear you all the way down to the street," Damian pipes up.

I glower at him and he chuckles.

"Okay," I rake my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, so we had a bit of a disagreement."

"Nothing the two of us can’t sort out," Edward mutters. "We certainly don’t need the rest of you here staging an intervention."

"Too fucking late." Saint grabs a chair, turns it around and straddles it. "You should have thought of that before you guys couldn’t keep it in your pants."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I growl at him.

"You know what he means," Weston drawls. "The two of you are involved with the same woman."

"None of your bloody business," Edward snaps.

"Much as it pains me to do so," I scratch my jaw, "I am forced to agree with Edward on this."

Saint shakes his head, "Afraid that’s not how it works, ol’ chap."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"He means, since the two of you haven’t been able to sort things out, we are going to have to step in."

"What the fuck?" Edward glares around at the five of them, "It’s best you wankers stay out of this."

There’s silence, then all of them burst out laughing.

"Fuckin’ hell." Saint pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. "You guys hear what dear Edward, here, just said?"

"Yeah," Damian leans forward in the couch, "anyone want to remind him how he was part of each and every intervention on behalf of the five of us?" He turns to me, "Not you, of course, considering you missed all the fun…. Not," he mutters. "Anyway," he turns his gaze on Edward, "sorry, buddy, you’re going to have to man up and take your share of advice on your love life… Which, considering the mess the two of you have gotten into... I’d say, should be welcome."

Edward glowers back.

"Or not." He raises his shoulders. "Doesn’t matter, either way." He jerks his chin at Weston, who leans forward on the balls of his feet.

"Fact is," Weston looks between us, "you guys have two choices."

"We do?"

"Yep." He nods and begins counting off on his fingers. "Shut up and listen to us or... Shut up and listen to us."

"Har, har." I deadpan, then walk over to lean against the bar. "Go on, get it out of your system."

Saint drums his fingers on the back of his chair. "So," he turns to Edward, "you love her?"

"What the fuck?" I growl at the same time as Ed.

"I’m talking to Edward," Saint says in a mild voice. "Go on, Ed, I asked you a question."

"What the hell kind of a question is that?" he objects.

"Answer the question, you piece of shit," Sinner growls.

Edward shoots him a dirty look, then turns to Saint, "Of course, I do, you dickwad. Not that it’s any of your business."

"Hmm." He rubs his chin, then turns in my direction, "And you?"

"Me?"

He nods. "Do you love her?"

"Fuck off, you fucktard."

"Very original." Saint chuckles. "Still doesn’t answer my question."

I bunch my fingers at my sides, taking a breath, then another, "I am not going to tell you what I feel."

"Why not?" Damian frowns. "It’s not anything to be ashamed of, soldier."

"We’ve all been through it." Arpad nods.

"Consider it another coming-of-age rite," Weston adds.

"What-bloody-ever." I rub the back of my neck, begin to pace. Of course, I do, so why is it so difficult to admit it aloud? Why hadn’t I told her so earlier when I had a chance? So, it has only been two and a-half weeks since I met her. So what? When you know, you know, right?

Something inside me insists that she’s the one for me. So why the hell can’t I say what I am feeling aloud? Argh! I dig my fingers in my hair and tug. Jesus H Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me?

"Well?" Saint prompts, "Do you?"

I turn around and face them. "And if I do?"

"So, you do?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "What’s it to you, assholes?"

"I understand how difficult this seems," Sinner says in a low voice. "Trust me, when I met Summer I was confused as fuck. I had no idea why whenever I saw her, I wanted to run away yet simultaneously, shove her behind me and hide her away from the world."

"Whoa." I blink, "Did you just wax almost-poetic…about a woman?"

"My wife and soon-to-be mother of my child." He half-quirks a smile, "Who’d have thought, eh?"

"Not me," I mutter. "Mr. Ruthless Billionaire Bastard with hearts in his eyes... Fuck me dead."

"Right?" Sinclair smirks. "And you know what the starting point was?"

"No," I frown, "what was it?"

"It began with accepting that I was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve her."

"Hear, hear," Damian agrees.

"It began with being very honest with myself about who I am."

"A fucktard?" I offer.

"That too." His smile grows lopsided. "But also, that I was a selfish bugger in everything, and even more so when it came to her. Only, when it came to doing things for her, I discovered I could be the most selfless person."

"You’re not making any sense."

"My point, exactly." He widens his stance. "What I am trying to say, you piss-tard, is that it began with me facing myself. It began with me accepting what I felt for her."

"Which was—?"

Weston ambles over to me, "You just obtuse, or did your stint in the army addle your brains and other parts of you completely?"

"My parts are all in fine working condition," I mutter, "which is more than I can say for many of you."

"Afraid most of us here have proven our manhood, ol’ chap," Weston drawls.

I open my mouth, and he shakes his head. "And I don’t mean fucking or getting our women pregnant."

I tilt my head and he pauses next to me, "Every one of us had to bare our soul, lay our heart on our sleeve, and swallow some very hard lessons."

"Not to mention, coming clean and admitting our feelings for them," Damian interjects.

"You mean groveling, don't you?" Arpad mutters.

"Lots of groveling," Weston concurs.

"A whole lotta groveling." Saint winces.

"That doesn’t seem like the recipe for a happy relationship." I frown.

Weston smacks me on the back of my head, and I wince, "The fuck, asshole?"

"Is that all you took away from this rather protracted and painful conversation?" He glares at me.

"If you want to tell me something, why can’t you guys simply come to the point?"

"The point," Sinclair arches an eyebrow, "is you need to come clean about your feelings."

"So, you may as well start practicing now," Saint adds.

"Now?" I grumble.

Damian and Arpad nod.

Weston raises his hand and I glare at him, "Don’t you fucking dare, you bastard."

"Oh, I fucking will, you douchebag, unless—"

"Unless?"

"Unless you spit it out."

"What?"

He claps me on the back of my head and I wince, "Fine, fine, I’ll say, it, I love her. I fucking love her."

I stare at Edward, who frowns back at me. Like that helped with anything.

"What a fucking mess," I mutter.

He narrows his gaze.

"Now that we have that out there." Sinner turns to Edward, "What are you two gonna do about it?"