The Billionaire’s Bride by L. Steele

40

Baron

I lower my whiskey glass, as I stare at the screen of my computer. What the hell had come over me? When she’d walked in… When I had seen her, it was like I could finally breathe. All that time away from her, I’d thought I was alive. I was so wrong. How could I be, when my heart no longer belongs to me? She’d walked into my apartment and I couldn’t believe that she was really here.

At the same time, I knew… I know it’s right. That she belongs with me. Has been mine from the moment I laid eyes on her. I’d known it, and yet, I’d walked away. I’d thought, he deserves her. After everything he’s done for me, I’d thought I owed him this much… I owed him a chance at happiness. So, I’d left… And she’d come to me.

And I’d wanted to throw her down and tear into her pussy. I’d wanted to bury myself in her tight little cunt; I’d wanted to cram myself in her arse, and fill her mouth with my cum. I’d wanted to paint every inch of her body with the evidence of my arousal, my ownership. I’d wanted to lick her up and bite down on the sensitive skin between her legs. I’d wanted to mark her creamy thighs, redden her bottom with my handprints. I’d wanted to… Fill every hole in her body and show her who she belongs to. Hell, I wanted to put my ring on her finger and mark her as mine for the world to see.

So yeah… I’d run with it. I’d asked her to marry me… Until that very moment, I hadn’t realized how much I wanted her to be mine, in every sense of the word.

Which is all good; but the distance? Putting her in another room while I stay in mine… Shit, what was I thinking?

I’d checked in on her earlier, to find that she was sleeping. She seemed to be naked. Her clothes were dumped on the chair by the desk, the soldier in me had cringed. I’d walked over and folded her clothes, then sat there next to the bed. I’d watched her sleep. Like that’s not creepy or anything. I was simply making sure that she was okay. She’d slept deeply, her cheeks pink, her lips slightly parted. Her auburn hair was in a cloud around her face. She’d looked innocent and at peace, and I’d wanted to cover her body with mine and bury myself inside of her…

That’s when I’d gotten up and left. I’d ended up in the third room, which is my temporary office. I’d gone over my investments, put in calls to Asia and the US. That’s the benefit of running a portfolio with global interests. There’s always someone, somewhere in the world who is working.

As I wrap up my last call, my phone rings again. Damian’s picture—or to be more specific, that of him and his pregnant wife Julia—shows up. I stare at it, take in their laughing faces. Will I ever have that? Do I want that? Can I have that with Ava, given everything we’ve been through?

I answer the call and Damian’s face fills the screen. "Hey, motherfucker." He smirks.

I groan, "Now I know why I stayed away from you guys for so long."

"And we’re going to make up for it with a vengeance."

"We?" I frown, "What do you—?"

Another face appears on the screen. Sinner; it’s bloody Sinner. Then Saint, and Arpad, and Weston. I grip my phone, am about to chuck it aside, when Sinner warns, "You want to hear what we have to say, asshole."

"Do I?" I growl.

"Stop being a bastard," Saint barks, "and listen to what we have to say."

"Look who’s talking." I roll my shoulders. "The biggest bastard of them all."

"At least, I know who I am," he mutters.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." He smirks. "I’ve never shied away from what I am. I wear my proclivities on my sleeve."

"That wife of yours needs to have her head examined for staying with you," I snipe.

Saint’s features freeze, and for a second, I am sure he’s going to explode. Probably drive over and bash my face in, which I deserve, considering I had broken the only rule… One I had repeatedly violated during my interactions with them since I’d returned… Wives and significant others, including kids, are off the table when we speak to each other. Specifically, when we insult each other. I had just broken the rule again… So, what’s new?

The rest of the Seven threaten…and posture, but with the exception of Edward, they all conform, one way or the other. It’s only me and Ed who'd tried to forge a different path to cope with the aftermath of the incident. We were hurt the most and we’d lashed out at life… At ourselves. Then at each other. And look where that has gotten us. In a mess I am still trying to make sense of.

"Apologize." Saint’s features are hard. "You’re not yourself, so I understand why you said something you didn’t mean. Say you’re sorry, you piece of shit."

I stare at Saint. Whoa? What? No raging and tearing things up? No threats of punishments…? He isn’t coming over to physically beat the shit out of me? Something which I had actually been looking forward to, if I am being honest. Nothing like being able to use my fists, to be able to let off steam. Of course, I could walk in next door and fuck my woman… I shake my head. Not yet. She isn’t mine yet. She came to you, remember? She wants you. This time, she chose you… But hell, if a part of me inside, still can’t believe it.

Just like I can’t believe Saint—motherfucking—Caldwell is ready to forgive me for my error of judgment.

"I’m sorry," I say through gritted teeth. "You’re right; I didn’t mean it."

"You’re angry." He nods, "It’s understandable."

"I apologized, didn’t I?" I growl. "You don’t have to pretend to get what I am going through."

"Oh, but we do," Weston says, his voice soft. "If we, the alphaholes who’ve been brought to our knees by the right women, don’t get what you’re going through, then who can?"

"That why you called me up at—" I glance at my watch, "four in the morning?" I smirk. "Thought you guys had your families and stuff to take care of."

"That’s what we are doing." Damian’s smile widens.

"What?" I frown.

"Taking care of family, you turd," Saint growls.

"I…ah..." My throat closes and a pressure builds behind my eyes. "The hell are you guys trying to say?"

"Want us to spell it out?" Sinner sighs, "Fine, you are our family, you tosser. We are each other’s family. We have been since the incident and you know it, and you have been fighting it."

"No, I have not." I scowl.

"Yes, you have." Saint nods. "Edward was the stubborn one, but you were the sensitive one."

"Sensitive?" I laugh, "You guys been drinking…? Oh, wait," I pretend to think, "you guys don’t do that anymore, now that you are the responsible ones."

"Nice try," Arpad smirks, "but you can’t distract us."

"None of us realized how much you had been hurt," Weston picks up the narrative. "If we had any indication just how much you and Edward had been impacted…"

"It’s done; it’s behind us," I say through gritted teeth.

"Is it?" Weston, tilts his head. "Edward managed it by joining the priesthood, and it was there for him when he needed it most. However, he eventually realized just how much of a crutch it was, and opted out. He’s still trying to find his mooring, and that’s okay. He’s already started on the journey. But you?" He shakes his head, "You have your destination in front of you, but refuse to recognize it."

"If this is about Ava—"

"Of course, it is about Ava, you toff," Sinner growls. "We know that she left Edward."

"And that she came to you last night," Damian murmurs.

I glare at them. Not a surprise that they know she’s here. Much as I’d like to deny it, the Seven of us are up in each other’s business. Put the wives and girlfriends into the mix, and well… You have communication pinging back and forth faster than a ball at a Wimbledon tennis match. Ava must have, no doubt, spoken to one of the women, and that would have alerted the entire network to what’s happening.

"Remember what you said earlier, Saint, about not talking about the women?" I remind them.

"This is different." Saint glares at me, "We’re talking about you, and your completely asinine attitude in refusing to accept what’s right for you."

"And you guys know that, how?"

"Experience." Sinner blows out a breath, "Like we’ve said, been here, done that. And we’re not allowing you to fuck up your life... No more than it is right now."

"Not sure you guys get a say in that," I mutter

"Might be a little too late for that, ol’ chap." Arpad chortles.

"What do you—?" The intercom app on my phone buzzes. I’d switched off the connections in the rooms so it wouldn’t disturb Ava. “Hold on.”

I switch out of the call and place the phone to my ear, "Yes?"

"A Mr. Chase to see you, sir."

"Chase." I frown.

"Should I—?"

"Send him up." I switch back into the call to find the rest of them waiting.

"Well," Damian asks, "is it him?"

"Who?"

"Cut the crap. You two finally going to bury your differences, or what?" Saint growls.

"You guys behind this?" I mutter.

The guys stay silent. I take in their faces and blow out a breath. "The fuck, you think you’re doing?" I growl. "What the fuck is wrong with you? If you think this is going to help, you are so wrong."

"Hold on," Sinner’s glare intensifies, "we were only trying to—"

I switch out of the call and raise my phone, intent on throwing it, then stop. Fuck. That would only wake up Ava, and that’s the last thing I want." I place the phone on the table, then get up and head out of the study. Making sure Ava’s door is firmly shut, I head for the living room, just as the elevator dings. It opens and Edward steps out.