She didn’t understand exactly how it worked. But Xander’s words hit her on a visceral level. Yes, she’d fought hard to break out of her battered body, leave her mother’s nest, and start a new life. Her mother loved her . . . but she’d known that the woman had carried a terrible burden for her for ten years. It had been time for both of them to move on. What Xander described sounded different.
“The Dom wants this responsibility?”
“Absolutely. If he’s doing everything right, he gets to watch her learn, blossom, and grow. He comes to know her inside and out, help her overcome whatever fears or blocks are preventing her from truly being happy. In turn, she gives back to him by submitting even more of herself. Bonds between Masters and their subs can get exceptionally deep.”
“And you’ve had this experience?” London almost didn’t want to know. It would hurt to hear that he’d taken someone under his wing and cared for her so deeply. But curiosity won out.
“No. I’ve seen it in action, but my knowledge of a total power exchange, the sort that Javier proposed, is theoretical. I don’t have any firsthand experience with a twenty-four/seven relationship. But even that wasn’t my biggest concern. Fran simply wasn’t submissive. If she didn’t give her power to me freely, then I’d just be taking it. And that would make me all kinds of asshole.” He looked at his brother. “Javi, there was just no way I could have saved her.”
Javier didn’t say a word, just glared at his younger brother.
Though her head was spinning with the intriguing possibilities Xander discussed, London stepped in again. “Maybe you couldn’t have saved Fran, Xander, but if she’d believed that someone cared about her, even as just a friend, it might have made a difference.”
“Exactly!” Javier added.
“She was your wife,” Xander pointed out. “You should have cared first.”
London couldn’t argue with Xander’s logic, but Javier’s stricken face made her desperate to move on. “Maybe so, but that’s water under the bridge now. She’s gone. You two are left and you have only one another. I’m not going to watch you tear yourselves apart. Javier, by now you should understand the destruction that happens when you wash your hands of someone who’s meant to be in your life. So either start trying to get along with your brother—because you know I’m right—or I’ll call Luc to come get me.”
Dead silence followed. They both stared at her in stunned silence. Yes, she had a reputation for being sweet as pie, but she had a stubborn streak and temper. She wasn’t afraid to use either when necessary.
“Am I staying or going?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The brothers looked at one another. They seemed to have some silent communication for a long stretch of seconds.
Finally, Javier nodded. “Stay.”
It sounded mostly like a command, but London heard a bit of a plea in there. She fought down a smile.
“Please, belleza.” Xander didn’t even try to disguise his imploring tone. “We both want you here.”
“Last chance, then,” she warned them. “Behave, you two.”
They both nodded, but silence ensued. The enmity had drained from the room, but it appeared that neither man knew how to break the ice. It was a miracle they hadn’t already thrown down.
“Were you shocked to learn that Francesca was pregnant?” she asked Javier.
Xander jumped in. “You two didn’t always get along, but losing your son or daughter must have been a tough pill to swallow. Why didn’t you tell me? I know you wanted kids.”
Javier sighed, then scrubbed a tired hand across his face. “Today was the first I’d heard of it. I did want kids, but I couldn’t bring myself to get Francesca pregnant intentionally. I wasn’t convinced she was capable of loving someone more than herself. So I was always careful. Nick said the coroner thought she was about four weeks pregnant.” He drew in a deep breath. “I hadn’t touched Fran in at least three months.”
London gasped. The baby hadn’t been his? She stared at him, openmouthed, trying to decide how to respond. With some expression of sympathy? Or outrage on his behalf? He probably didn’t want to talk about it at all.
“That’s terrible.” The words slipped out, but they didn’t feel bad. They definitely weren’t insincere. “And you had no idea that she was pregnant?”
Javier shook his head. “I doubt she did, either.”
“Francesca always acted hormonal and difficult,” Xander added. “Nothing in her behavior would have been a tip-off.”
“You never liked her.” Javier didn’t ask; it was a statement.
“Did you?” Xander countered.
Javier shrugged. “Like London said, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He regarded her. “Whatever you made smells excellent.”
Between his naked chest and his information bombshells, she’d completely forgotten about the food. “Just canned soup and grilled cheese. Do you want it in bed?”
As soon as the words were out, London flushed. That sounded far more sexual then she intended. A little smile toyed at Javier’s full lips.
Xander gave an annoyed huff. “Put some clothes on, Javi. I’ll go out to the car and retrieve London’s bag and the stuff she grabbed from your office on the way over.”
That was a relief. It would save her a trip. And it would give her a few moments alone with her boss.
She turned to find him disappearing back into the bathroom. The light to the closet flipped on, and he returned a minute later wearing a dark charcoal gray pair of sweatpants—and nothing else. The pants fit too well to not see the outline of his firm, narrow hips and lean backside without any trace of underwear.
Both brothers were put together so well, and each made her feel something different. To her, Javier represented security, protection. Reassurance. But he taught her, too. In a fraction of a day, he’d contributed to her professional growth. Her family had merely wanted to coddle her to the point of smothering, but Javier wanted her to blossom and succeed. And Xander . . . he made her hot, reckless. When she was with him, she wanted the clothes to come off and for him to leap on and show her all the joys of being female. London remembered having boyfriends before the accident, and several had made her fifteen-year-old heart swoon. None had made her long to press every inch of her body against his and plead for his touch. The idea of turning her body and her will over to either one of them made her tingle and ache in some really interesting places.
Javier made his way to the bed, and London followed, grabbing the tray from the dresser and bringing it to him. “If it’s gotten cold, I’ll make you something else.”
He shook his head with a vague smile. She put the tray on his lap and straightened. They were too close, and she almost couldn’t breathe. But when she tried to step back, Javier grabbed her wrist and held just tight enough to prevent escape.
“Why my brother?”
“Excuse me?” What exactly did he want to know?
“Out of all the men in this world—hell, in this town—why choose my brother?”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “I-I . . . well, initially he chose me.”
“I’ll bet he did.” Javier sounded bitter about that.
“Why are you so angry? We haven’t, um . . . slept together.”
“Yet.”
“You’re my boss.” But they had chemistry. She might be innocent, but she wasn’t stupid. Javier had given her more than one indication that he wanted her, too.
The possibility poured over her like a landslide of lava. She tried to shove her heated reaction aside. Even if he desired her, was it because he wanted her . . . or merely because his brother did?
“Answer my question,” Javier demanded. “Why Xander?”
“He’s charming. He makes me feel good about me, and I haven’t had that in a really long time. When I’m with him, I feel pretty and not like I’m in someone’s way or like I should be better.”
“That isn’t strictly for your benefit, you know. It’s a tactic. Make you feel good and special, part you from your clothes. He wants to fuck you.”
His words were like a slap. “Thank you for making me feel stupid. Because, of course, no man could possibly like or want me as I am.”
She tried to tug his wrist from his grasp, but Javier wasn’t letting go.
“I’m sorry. That’s not at all what I’m saying, little one. Please . . . I think you’re wonderful and beautiful and special. I mean that. With Xander, it’s a line. He’s not known for his depth or sincerity.”
London frowned. “You act like your brother is a sexual predator. He had the opportunity to . . . you know, the day we met. We were in a bed, and I was naked. I asked him to. He didn’t.”
She could tell that surprised Javier, but he eventually shrugged. “Probably another tactic. You’re talking about a man who’s slept with probably five thousand women. You don’t seduce that many females without playing a lot of head games.”
Five thousand? London felt sick to her stomach and for the first time, she wondered if Javier was right. “Oh my . . . Then why me?”
He reared back. “Are you kidding? You’re the kind of woman a man looks at and thinks of nothing but losing himself in the soft depths of her body again and again until she never looks at another man.”
More shock pinged through her system. “You . . . you haven’t thought that.”
Javier tugged on her wrist and brought her closer. “Oh yes, I have. From the moment I saw you. I tried to tell myself to stay away. You don’t need a broken man. I don’t need a sexual harassment lawsuit. What you say or do now has no bearing on whether you stay employed. I want to be clear about that. If you turn me down, you’ll have a job.”
“Thank you,” she said automatically. London had no idea how else to reply. Everything was happening so quickly.
“I want you to think about something. You know how many women Xander has taken to bed. Know how many I’ve slept with in the last seven years? One.”
Another stunner. Javier lobbed them at her, one after the other. “So . . . even though you didn’t love Francesca—”
“I was faithful to her until the day she died.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Hell, even since she died.”
“Why?”
He took a bite of the sandwich, and to London it seemed as if he was looking for something to do, a way to stall, until he could get his head together. “Our father was a terrible skirt-chaser. About the time I turned ten, I realized that he was putting far more energy into fucking his secretary than into caring for his wife, kids, or S.I. Industries. It left a dirty taste in my mouth. I couldn’t give Francesca everything I should have. But I could give her fidelity.”
London really couldn’t breathe now. Javier took a bite of soup. The action was so simple—a direct contrast to the complex man sitting in front of her.
“Why be faithful to a dead woman you didn’t love? Penance?”
“Probably.” He shrugged. “At first, I was too shocked that she was dead and that she’d been unfaithful. After a few weeks, I got angry, both at her and myself. I was too mired in fury and vodka to care about sex. Then . . . one day turned into the next. Lately, I’ve been spending all my time warring between being CEO and turning this company around, and drowning my inner demons with booze. They’re mutually exclusive, and I’ve felt torn in two.”
She sank to the edge of the bed beside him and moved the tray so she could wrap her arms around him. He might not want her comfort, but he needed it. “I’m here to help however I can. I’ll listen and assist with the business. I can talk to you when the need for booze settles in. I’ll do whatever.”
“Kiss me.”
The command came out of nowhere, and the longing to do exactly what he said assaulted her. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to feel him, heal him, melt into him. He was broken, and yet she admired so many of his qualities. Stalwart. Some would call him stubborn, but when he believed in something, he gave himself to the cause. And he was faithful.
She doubted Xander would ever be. After having that much sexual freedom, he would always want it, right? London knew she wasn’t a raving beauty, but Xander had qualities she admired as well. Persistent, funny, intuitive, willing to stick his neck out for the people who mattered. Maybe . . . he’d never met a woman he could really care about.
God, that line of thought was so dangerous to her heart.
The reality was, she admired and wanted them both. She’d developed feelings for both. And she had no idea what to do.
Torn, her thoughts racing, she bent to him, leaned in . . . and kissed his cheek. She’d started something with Xander purely to lose her virginity with a hot guy who would give her pleasure. She’d begun working for Javier with the idea of growing into someone professional and productive that she could be proud of. But she’d never intended to desire them both. Worse, in the span of one day, that desire had taken root and flourished like a weed, tenacious and unwanted. How would she ever choose, especially when either of them could steal her heart—then break it without ever meaning to?
