“It really is for the best, son,” Vladimir’s pale eyes met Christian’s. His father was impeccably dressed in a navy suit, every inch the coldblooded mogul as he sat behind his desk.
“When did you ever care what was best for me?” Christian gripped the bottle of Russian Standard. He never knew when he would need another shot. The chair creaked as he flopped down in it.
His father’s expression sharpened. “If you had studied business instead of theater, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Vladimir pounded a large fist on the top of the desk.
“But where’s the fun in that?” Christian asked, knowing full well his father viewed him as an embarrassment. And a soon to be major drain on the family finances if he didn’t get Zoe to sign the post nuptial agreement. Then the bloody annulment papers.
He’d be free to go back to his old life. Brilliant.
“No woman’s worth the fun you have in mind,” his brother, Sebastian, said from behind him.
Christian didn’t bother to turn around. He knew Sebastian would end up at the desk beside their father. When his prediction came true, Christian let his contempt be known. “While no woman thinks your fun is worth anything.”
Of course their father smiled at Sebastian. And of course as soon as Vladimir looked back at Christian his smile turned into a sneer. “For the love of God, Christian, quit pouting and sober the hell up.”
“Really, Father, why do you waste so much time lecturing the blissfully and knowingly ignorant?” Sebastian murmured.
“Your fraternal affection is heartwarming,” Christian said, then raised the bottle to his lips for another drink.
“While your familial sense of duty is deplorable.” Sebastian’s eyes, mirror images of Christian’s held no warmth, no humor. Not even a spark of life seemed to exist there.
Vladimir held up his hands. “I don’t have time for this. Deal with it… him, Sebastian.” With those caring words, their father walked out and the two brothers were alone.
Christian took another pull of the bottle and wished for a cigarette.
“Plan on drinking yourself to an early grave?” Sebastian sounded as if he could have been talking to anyone. “It would make the divvying out of our inheritance come this August much, much simpler.”
“Go bugger yourself.”Christian hurled the bottle at him, narrowly missing his brother’s shoulder. The bottle smashed into the wall of bookcases, most likely ruining some of his father’s prized books. Excellent.
Sebastian didn’t move, merely stared at him with icy contempt. He sat on the edge of the desk. “Why are you here, Christian?”
Christian stood, throwing his arms wide and spun around. “I come at our father’s bidding. Same as you.”
“Yes, but I offer him economic value while you drain our resources.”
“At least I’m living my life. On my terms.”
Sebastian had the nerve to laugh at him. Him. “How’s that working out for you?” Without waiting for answer, he continued, “You found the woman of your dreams—twice. Married her, then sent her packing so you could play in Burma. When that wasn’t enough, you decided to start sleeping with Peaches and become a drunk—again.” Sebastian clapped. “Well, done. Bloody brilliant.”
Christian strode to the desk, knuckling the top and leaning in. “For the last time, you know her name is Kate, and we’ve never slept together. And I wasn’t playing in Burma. I was helping a man document the horrors going on in that country. The struggle for power, for people getting hurt when they happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.” He purposefully ignored the stab about Zoe. He couldn’t think of her. It hurt more than anything he’d ever felt before. She’d lied to him, betrayed him and laughed at him while writing. He was the model for her villain. No, not model. He was the villain.
Instead he gave a cocky smile and added, “But I am drunk and I plan to stay this way for as long as possible.”
“You’re a spoiled little boy who didn’t get his way,” Sebastian mocked.
Christian shoved his brother, knocking him off the desk. “You’re an arse.”
“I hate to see you’ve proven our father right.” Sebastian smoothed his hair and righted his tie.
Okay, he’d bite. “What, that I’m a drunken, no good son of a bitch who will never amount to anything? Didn’t think you disapproved of his opinion. Hell, didn’t know you were allowed to have an original thought.”
Sebastian pulled out his phone, thumbs moving over the keyboard. “I thought you knew what you wanted and didn’t give a damn about everyone else’s opinion. I thought you were better than what you’ve become.”
“Too little, too late.” Christian headed for the door. “I’ll be at Sasha’s if Vladimir needs to summon me.”
“You think Sasha’s on your side?”
Christian threw the door open. “He’s more of a brother than you’ll ever be.”
“He’s the one who sent your agent the pictures. And that’s not all,” Sebastian called out.
Christian froze. “Do tell.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christian had never been one for praying, and he wasn’t too sure that if he started now God would actually listen. He did it anyway, crossing himself and murmuring the familiar words even as he hoped his brother had been wrong. Then again, if his brother was right, that meant Zoe hadn’t been lying to him.
His heart thumped against his chest.
After punching in the code, Christian let himself in the front door. The three story townhouse was silent, but he knew Sasha was home—Sebastian had said as much. The stairs barely made a noise as he jogged up them to the master suite.
“Wake up,” he growled, striding into Sasha’s bedroom.
Sasha stirred and mumbled something in his sleep.
“I said, wake up.” Christian moved to the bed. He ripped away the sheets, grabbed a glass of water left on the nightstand and poured onto his cousin’s head.
“Holy hell!” Sasha bolted up in bed. Water plastered his hair to his head and dripped off his nose. “Are you trying to drown me?”
“I’m here for answers about the crimes you’ve committed against me.”
“Guilty without a trial—thought you’d embraced American ideals.” Sasha rose and crossed the room, disappearing into the bathroom. His infuriatingly calm manner did nothing for Christian’s blood pressure.
“Well?” Christian asked when Sasha reappeared.
Sasha ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in some places. “I was bored.”
“Bored?”Christian fought the urge to punch his cousin in the face a couple hundred times. “I don’t believe you.”
Sasha shrugged.
Christian sat in one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace. “I’m not leaving until you give me the truth.” Childish, yes, but he was at a loss at what to do next. He needed answers. Answers that only Sasha could give.
Sasha sat in the opposite chair, stretching out his legs.
Around the room dust motes floated in the air. The room was strangely lacking personalization. Sure it was fit for a bloke like his cousin, with an oversized bed covered in designer sheets while priceless art hung on the walls. However, there was nothing of the man who lived here.
Come to think of it, it was the first time Christian had been in Sasha’s house. For as close as they were, he and Sasha hadn’t really spent any time together in the past few years. Not like mates should. His cousin usually showed up when he needed him, or to direct Christian to the next party.
“You and your bloody first world problems,” Sasha said, breaking the silence.
“My bloody what?” Raising his brows, Christian sliced his gaze to Sasha. There was a bruise the size of a man’s fist on Sasha’s chest, just above his right nipple ring. “Row?”
Sasha glanced down, then back up. There was a hardness in his green eyes. A hardness Christian had only seen once before, at Sasha’s father’s funeral. “Doesn’t concern you.”
“It does and had you called me, I’d have been there and had your back,” Christian reminded him. Although he wanted answers about Sasha’s meddling, he wanted to know what had gone wrong with his relationship with his cousin. Couldn’t there be one person in this world that he could trust not to lie to him?
Sasha laughed, but it was brittle. “My back? Might want to re-think that.”
Christian started to defend himself, to point out a time where he’d done exactly that, but his memories were empty. “Why’d you do it, and none of that bored bullshit excuse.”
“Let’s just say it was in my best interest.” Sasha stood. “That enough of an excuse?”
“Will it be in your best interest to do it again?” Christian asked, his hands clenching into fists.
“It’s not up to me.” Sasha’s face was weary. Lines bracketed his mouth. He was without his usual wit. “Go home, Christian.”
“I don’t have one.” Verbalizing that truth was a punch in the gut. And what hurt worse was the knowledge that with Zoe he would have had one. Would have had anything and everything he’d ever wanted with her. But his damned pride, ego, whatever he wanted to call it made him throw it all away.
“Join the club,” Sasha said. “However, as president, I won’t approve your membership. We’ve standards to uphold.”
Christian shot him a wry smile. “Shouldn’t I be pissed at you?”
“Be whatever you want, mate. Not all of us have that luxury.” When had Sasha become so cryptic? “But I’d recommend sorting things out with your wife first.”
Like that would be easy.
Christian had always thought people who broke up over The Big Misunderstanding in movies were ridiculous. Something the screenwriter liked to add for dramatic effect to draw things out. But now he knew exactly why it happened, for him anyway. He’d refused to listen to Zoe’s explanation, refused to be swayed by the deep hurt in her eyes.
It didn’t matter what Sasha’s role was in all this. Christian knew his father was the puppeteer pulling all the strings. But he had to know the truth. “At least tell me what happened that day.”
Sasha moved to the fireplace. “Long or short version.”
“What do you think?”
Sasha turned away, facing the mantle. “I had her calls and texts blocked, paid off her hair dresser to take an extraordinarily long amount of time dying her hair back, and encouraged Jaylen to show up when Miss Persistent headed to the restaurant an hour and half late.”
Dread rose inside of him. “She was telling the truth.”
“Spoke to you, too.”
Memories of that day rushed over him, like the tide. The shy fan who’d come up to his table—just as Jaylen kissed his cheek. He’d offered to sign something for her.
I don’t want anything from you, he remembered her saying. Then the little brunette had practically run out of the diner, smacking into a few chairs along the way.
“Oh dear God.” Running a hand over his face, he let out a groan. “I’ve royally fucked things up.”
Sasha turned to face him, raising his brows. “Who told you the club’s motto? Now I’ve no choice but to approve your membership lest you blab our secrets.”
Despite his anger, his shame and frustration, Christian managed to laugh. He stood, clapping a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “I’m off to Holland Springs. Care to come with me?”
The smile that had begun to form on Sasha’s face evaporated. “I’ve other obligations.”
“Going to see Phoebe?” Christian asked as he moved to the door.
“If I’m allowed,” came his cousin answer. Christian’s father controlled every part of Phoebe’s medical care as well as Sasha’s inheritance.
Damn Vladimir Romanov to hell. Christian paused in the doorway. “Is there any way I can help?”
“Help me get ready for tonight?” Sasha shook his head, waving him away. “You can barely dress yourself.”
How had he missed this act that Sasha put on? “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s the way it has to be,” Sasha said quietly, then moved to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Zoe opened her front door, startled but not surprised to see the man standing on the other side. “What are you doing here?”
She tried to be brave, tried not to cry when she saw his familiar face, but his eyes held so much compassion that she broke down when he gave her a single sunflower.
“Pretty flower for a pretty lady,” Gabriel said, his arms strong as they held her. Solid. Real and comfortable.
“Thanks for the flower.” Her words were muffled by his collared shirt. She pulled away, guilt filling her soul. What was she doing hugging him? Gabriel of all people? Even if he was her ex, she was still married. Yeah and the annulment document was still sitting in her in-box, waiting for her electronic signature. “Is there something you need?”
He smiled, eyes crinkling and dimple showing in his left cheek. A smile that was genuine and the same for everyone. “I’ve come to check on you. See if there was anything you needed.”
She stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in. After placing the sunflower in a vase, she joined Gabriel on the couch.
For long minutes, he stared off into space, seemingly preoccupied. Actually he acted as if he’d rather be any place but with her. Which was fine, but strange.