Burn My Hart--A Sexy Billionaire Romance Read online

  ‘What does a big brother seem like?’

  ‘Authoritative. Confident. Always in control.’

  He hooks his eyes to mine. ‘I don’t think I’m always in control, Asha. In fact, I have a habit of losing control completely where you’re concerned.’

  Pleasure bursts through me. ‘I like that,’ I admit.

  ‘I’m glad.’

  I sip my beer.

  ‘Jagger’s the oldest—the one who’s getting married in a few weeks.’ He lifts his own beer, wrapping two fingers and his thumb around the neck and lifting it to his lips. His Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. ‘Holden’s three months younger than Jagger.’

  My eyes flare wider. ‘How is that...? So he’s...’

  Theo places the beer back on the table and moves it around a little, watching the trail of liquid that moves in its wake.

  ‘The by-product of an affair.’ His words are clipped and I wonder what he’s not saying—I’m sure there’s something. Curious, I lean forward without realising I’m doing it.

  ‘Did your mom walk out?’

  ‘Not my mom,’ he corrects. ‘We all have a different mom, actually.’ He lifts his shoulders. ‘But yeah, it pretty much ended their marriage. I mean, Holden’s living proof of Dad’s inability to keep it in his pants so I’d say the writing was on the wall from the moment he turned up.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How old was he, when he came to live with you guys?’

  ‘Just a kid still.’ He clears his throat and reaches for his beer, rocking it from one hand to the other. There’s a sixth sense that keeps me quiet, and my instincts are rewarded when he leans forward a little.

  ‘The thing is, we found out a year ago that he wasn’t even my dad’s.’

  ‘What?’ I frown. ‘So why would he take him in? I mean, if you’re going to be hanged for the crime...’

  ‘Dad did have an affair with Holden’s mom,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘But it ended months before Holden was conceived. There’s no way he could have thought Holden was his son.’

  ‘So why take him in?’

  ‘Holden’s mom asked him to,’ he says with a lift of his shoulders. ‘I think it’s the one decent thing my dad did in his life, and he didn’t even get that right.’

  ‘I don’t know; it seems pretty selfless.’

  ‘Holden was devastated to learn the truth.’ He shakes his head angrily. ‘All his life he’s been raised as a Hart and now to learn that he’s not, that the truth of his parentage is lost for ever...’

  ‘He doesn’t know who his biological dad is?’

  ‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘My dad’s on the birth certificate and Holden’s mom’s dead. I know Holden had an investigator looking into it but nothing’s really shown up. I think he’s accepted he’ll never know the truth. Now he just has to work on getting over that.’

  I shake my head, trying to imagine how hard that would be.

  ‘It’s really knocked him sideways. I keep telling him we’re still his brothers, just the same as before, but it’s not getting through to him.’

  ‘I get that, though.’

  Theo sighs. ‘Yeah, I know.’ A rueful shake of his head. ‘But it doesn’t change anything.’

  ‘Not knowing is...’ I choose my words carefully, ignoring the slight warning light going off in my brain, because I don’t talk about Mom with anyone and I don’t really talk to Theo about stuff. Yet my mouth moves, forming words almost without my consent.

  ‘My mom died when I was born.’ I drop my eyes to the table because it’s easier to talk when he’s not seeing right into my soul. ‘All I know about her is from my dad and Joshua. Stories, pictures, anecdotes that don’t feature me at all. I know I’m like her in some ways,’ I murmur, lifting a hand to my hair and toying with it between my fingertips. ‘Same complexion and smile.’ I let one lift my lips for a moment. ‘But nothing like her in others. She’s a mystery to me. There are parts of me that are a mystery. It’s like there’s this puzzle inside me that only my mom could have pieced together and because she’s not here, because she wasn’t here, it will never really be the same.’ I swallow, lifting my beer and taking a sip.

  He’s watching me. I can feel his eyes boring into me and it does something funny to my stomach. I force myself to meet his gaze and try to look normal, like I haven’t just ripped a part of myself raw.

  ‘I didn’t know you felt like that.’

  ‘It’s not a big deal.’ I keep my tone light with difficulty. ‘I mean, I’m fine. I’ve had twenty-eight years to get used to not knowing her. I don’t really think about it, in fact, but just talking about Holden... I mean, he doesn’t have his mom or dad. His whole life as he knew it has been ripped out from under him.’

  ‘But it hasn’t.’ Theo’s words show exasperation. ‘Jagger and I were always the biggest part of his life; we’re a part of him, and we’re still here.’

  ‘Except you’re not really,’ I insist, reaching across and lacing my fingers through his. ‘You helped make him who he is. He’s been shaped by you and your brother and your father and all the people who’ve been a part of his life, but there are facets of himself that he thought to be reflections of your father and now he knows they’re not. The biology he took for granted, accepted as a fact, is a lie. More than that, you and Jagger have a bond he’ll never truly be a part of.’

  He’s quiet for a moment, weighing that up, and then he shakes his head. ‘That’s bullshit.’

  ‘I get why you think so.’ I squeeze his fingers and he frowns. ‘But, for Holden, he’s an outsider now.’

  Theo’s expression shifts, his eyes swirling with resentment and frustration—both of which I understand.

  ‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience.’

  I blink, pulling my fingers away, only he holds on tighter, squeezing them in the same way I did a moment ago.

  ‘Not really,’ I respond with an attempt at airiness.

  ‘No?’

  I shift my head to the side just as a couple take seats at a table a few feet away. I watch as the guy leans towards her and she smiles up at him and I feel a pang of something in the region of my heart: loneliness. I hadn’t realised I felt that but, sitting across from the guy I’m sleeping with, who’ll never be more to me than just sex, makes me realise how much I want to be in something real, something lasting.

  I turn back to Theo to find him staring at me and my chest tightens.

  ‘You’re close to your brother?’ he prompts, kicking his feet out beneath the table so they brush against mine. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a sensual fog winds around us, predictable and inescapable.

  ‘Close is complicated,’ I say after a moment. ‘But yeah. We are. I mean, we’re like chalk and cheese in a heap of ways but we’re also super similar.’

  ‘And your dad?’

  I lift a brow. ‘You’re hoping to rattle some skeletons out of my family closet now?’ It’s an attempt to lift the mood.

  ‘I’m just curious.’ He doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t smile.

  I swallow, looking down at our hands—his dark, mine pale. ‘My father’s a hard man to be close to,’ I say after a few moments. ‘I love him, he’s my dad, but we’re not really the “sit around the table and talk about our day” kind of family. We never have been.’

  ‘Boarding school will do that to you,’ he quips, but with sympathy.

  I nod.

  ‘But there’s something more,’ he prompts when I don’t speak. And I laugh because his ability to see inside me and read my mind is unexpected.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  He grins, a sexy shifting of his lips that makes my heart rate double. ‘I can see your cogs turning.’

  I shake my head, still laughing softly.

  ‘Wh
at? You’re holding something back,’ he prompts.

  ‘So? That’s our deal,’ I remind him. ‘We don’t talk about stuff like this.’

  ‘I’ve just told you something deeply personal,’ he points out.

  ‘Yeah, but that was your choice.’ I wink and pull my hand back right as the waitress reappears with a plate of raw meat. She places it between us and presses a button so the grill lights up. Theo stands and moves around the table, coming to sit beside me.

  ‘Easier,’ he says, by way of explanation.

  I don’t complain. I like him being close to me like this. Our thighs brush beneath the table. He uses the tongs to lift a few pieces of meat and places them on the grill. It begins to sizzle and I watch, almost hypnotised by the smell, the smoke, the sound.

  ‘You know—’ his voice is low, further drugging my senses ‘—the fact we know this only has a few more weeks left makes me kind of want to throw the old rules out the window.’ His eyes hold mine and I feel in that moment the strength of this man, the charisma and the intelligence. I feel every ounce of his professional success.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’m curious about this stuff. It doesn’t change what we are—sex is sex.’

  I nod slowly. I mean, he’s right. What am I afraid of? That we’ll blur the lines and fall in love? Neither of us is that stupid—we know what we’re doing.

  I meet his lopsided grin with one of my own and tilt my face forward so our foreheads touch. ‘Just remember, when all is said and done, I’m only using you for your insanely hot body.’

  He seeks my lips with his. ‘Deal.’

  Desire flashes inside of me, hot and uncontainable. I’m hungry, but food feels a lot less important than it did a minute ago.

  He pulls away and I can see from his eyes that he feels just as I do, that he wishes we were anywhere but here, in this charming, crowded restaurant in the East Village.

  He reaches for the chopsticks, wielding them expertly, lifting a piece of cooked beef from the plate and bringing it towards my lips. I part them expectantly and moan as the flavour hits me.

  ‘Oh, my God, that is amazing.’

  ‘What can I say? I’m a talented chef.’

  I let out a small laugh. ‘Clearly. And the marinade is pretty good too.’

  ‘I guess some of the credit belongs to the kitchen then.’

  I swallow, watching as he places another batch on the grill then turns the full force of his attention on me. He’s lifted one arm and laid it along the back of the booth so I’m in the circle of his body, surrounded by his strength and warmth, and I like it here. I really like it.

  ‘So you were saying how you feel like you never really belonged?’ he prompts and I shake my head.

  ‘I don’t think I was saying that at all.’

  ‘Or words to that effect.’

  I reach for another piece of beef, tasting it while I contemplate what I had been going to say. ‘My dad never wanted me.’

  He frowns so a divot forms between his brows.

  ‘Oh, it’s fine. I’m not upset about it, not like I used to be. It’s nothing to do with me; it’s just what he had planned. He and Mom knew they needed a child, an heir—he takes the whole family empire thing pretty seriously. Joshua ticked that box. My dad was done and dusted, no need for any more noisy, crying infants to destroy his peace and tranquillity.’ I don’t meet his eyes.

  ‘But they changed their mind?’

  ‘I was an accident,’ I demur quietly. ‘I’ve always wondered if maybe my mom planned it, maybe she lied to my dad to fall pregnant? I mean, maybe she chose to have me?’

  ‘Would that have made a difference to you?’

  I bite down on my lip. ‘Yeah, probably.’ Crap, my voice sounds shaky. I clear my throat. ‘But, whatever, dad definitely didn’t want another child, and he definitely didn’t want a daughter.’

  I feel Theo tense. ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s not like he’s a misogynist. This isn’t a boy versus girl thing. He didn’t know what the hell to do with a daughter, and without Mom he felt like he was flying blind. I was—am—so different to Josh, and Dad just had no clue how to deal with that. I was like a bizarre alien or something.’

  He doesn’t smile, but he stares at me with an intensity that makes my skin lift in goosebumps.

  ‘I have no experience with kids but I imagine we’re all pretty much the same.’

  ‘In lots of ways,’ I murmur. ‘But I was sensitive and emotional. Dad couldn’t deal. Joshua has always been contained and calm, reasonable and rational. I used to fly into a rage if I didn’t get my way, slam doors, stomp my feet, cry loudly, laugh until my stomach ached. I felt everything to the nth degree and it took a long time for me to learn that wasn’t...okay in my family.’

  His frown deepens. I dip my head forward, burying it in his shoulder.

  ‘You’re nothing like that now.’

  I think about that. ‘I probably still am, deep, deep down. But conditioning is powerful and my whole life was spent conditioning me not to act like that.’

  ‘Self-possessed is a word I would use to describe you.’

  ‘Sure.’ I lift my shoulders. ‘I’ve definitely learned to be that way.’

  His expression shows disapproval. ‘So you were made to feel as though all your natural instincts were somehow wrong?’

  Yes. A thousand times yes. But I hate admitting that to anyone. I feel disloyal and unkind. ‘It’s hard to distil it down to such a simple statement. My dad was grieving my mother. Her death changed him.’

  ‘I imagine it was hard for your brother to lose her too, and for you to have grown up with no mother.’

  I run a finger over my collarbone distractedly. ‘Joshua missed her, though he didn’t like to speak about that. As for Dad...’ I shake my head. ‘Grief is a difficult emotion.’

  ‘You’re making excuses for him?’

  ‘No, but I’m conscious that I’m making it sound like my dad was some kind of a monster and that’s not the case. He’s fine. He’s great. But he struggled with me, which meant I struggled with him. I suppose you could say that when my mother died we lost a huge part of my father too. I don’t think we’ll ever get him back.’ I lift my face to his. Our lips are so close. I feel his breath on the side of my face and my insides squeeze in the nicest possible way. It’s like a web has been spun with us at its centre.

  ‘He must be proud of you, though?’

  I lift a single brow, a twisted smile briefly lifting my lips. ‘I don’t think pride is necessarily in his arsenal.’

  ‘He’s proud of Joshua?’

  ‘He’s harder on Joshua.’ I make the distinction carefully. ‘He’s always expected more of him. Joshua is the boy.’ Derision at that old-fashioned notion creeps into my tone. ‘He was always the one who would carry on the family name, marry well, make babies and simultaneously grow the company at an exponential rate.’ I shake my head. ‘My dad did that. He’s formidable in business and he expected as much from Joshua.’

  ‘And you?’

  I bite into my lower lip, aware I’m running dangerously close to criticising my father—something I aim not to do. ‘I think he’s happy I seem happy,’ I murmur. Not that Dad has any idea if I’m happy or not, really.

  ‘You’ve increased Fleurs Sauvages’s market share by almost twenty per cent in the last three years. Your revenue is up forty per cent on a decade ago.’

  Despite the tenor of our conversation, I feel a laugh shifting through me. ‘You sound like you’re reading from our stock prospectus.’

  He grins. ‘What can I say? I looked into you when we met.’

  ‘Did you now?’ I’m not sure what to make of that. ‘Why?’

  A frown briefly mars his features. ‘Because I’ve never done this before and wanted to make sure of who you were.’

>   His honesty floors me.

  ‘Does that bother you?’

  I tilt my head to the side. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Caution runs in my veins. It always has but especially after the Holden debacle.’

  Sympathy is easy to feel. The shock of that discovery must have torn through each brother in a different way.

  ‘And what else did you learn about me?’

  ‘That you’re the sexiest woman on earth?’ he murmurs, reaching for the hem of my skirt and pushing it up so his hand can creep along my thigh towards my underwear. My breath catches in my throat.

  ‘That was in our investor literature?’

  ‘Sure was.’

  I laugh softly. ‘What else?’

  ‘That you’re incredibly good at what you do. That you’re clever and focused and driven and industry insiders all say that, without you, Fleurs Sauvages would have lost relevance instead of the way it’s transitioned to meet the needs of Gen Y.’

  Heat blooms in my cheeks. ‘Such lavish praise.’ I tut. ‘Surely you know by now flattery will get you nowhere?’

  ‘You don’t like compliments?’

  ‘I don’t need them.’ I’ve had a lifetime without, so, frankly, they border on making me uncomfortable. I lean forward and pull his lower lip between my teeth, then kiss him hard, wrapping my fingers into his hair, dislodging it a little from the bun on the top of his head. His hand moves behind me—I realise a moment later that he’s pulling steak off the grill.

  ‘Burning,’ he says by way of explanation, capturing my mouth once more.

  His other hand is between my legs and he brushes his fingers over my sex so I make a strangled, groaning sound into his mouth, earning a throaty agreement from him.

  ‘I suddenly feel like dinner was a crappy idea.’

  ‘You could be right. How quickly can you eat?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He pulls away and looks at me, nodding once. ‘We’ll get burgers delivered.’

  He kisses me again, slower this time, and beneath the table his hand nudges my lace thong aside so his fingers collide with warm, wet flesh. He swears into my mouth as he slides a finger deep inside me so I buck in the booth seat, the blood in my body catching fire in a way that would rival the grill.