Four Brothers and a Bride-Chapter 49

ASHTON

[I could never hate you, Dee-Will]

Why did I send her that? Shit. I wasn’t thinking straight. I can’t have Demi thinking we can ever be a thing. I promised Ashley to stay away. Sighing, I try to chuck my phone into my bedside drawer when another message beeps in. I know it’s from Dee and I probably shouldn’t continue chatting with her. But I am so curious to know what’s been going on in her mind ever since I went cold turkey on her. Hence, I check the message.

[Thank you. I thought I lost you.]

I clench my fist and grit my teeth at the crying emoji that pops in after the message. Has she truly been crying? I haven’t really been paying attention to her especially when we are in the same room. I get barely a second to skim my eyes over her face without setting off any warning bells in Ashley’s head.

During the past few days of actively trying to keep her out of my sight, I have come to depend on other cues like her scent when she enters a room I am in and the way her heels sound over the carpet, tiles and stone steps. I know when she’s in the building and when she’s not. It’s like I went blind and my other senses came alive.

[Can we talk? Somewhere away from here. I have a lot to say to you.]

At her latest message, I chuck my phone into the side drawer. Now, it’s getting messy. I can’t encourage her. Putting my phone away is mostly to stop myself from being pulled in by my emotions and reigniting a flame that should never have been lit between Demi and I. I have to be in control or both of us will sink and take the family down with us. I can’t allow that.

Ever since the night I gave Ashley Demi’s passcode and they spent the night together, something died inside me. To cope, I like to imagine that whatever it was that died, it was necessary to awaken me to the danger lurking in the near future if I follow my heart without taking my head along.

Feeling broken has allowed me to distance myself from Demi like we are complete strangers to each other. It has also allowed me to easily blank out memories of her from my mind and block further fantasies of her in my head.

I have been leaving for work earlier than I usually do. I return late hoping Demi isn’t waiting by her door to talk to me and when I don’t find her by her door, I ignore the sharp tug of pain. Demi hasn’t tried calling or texting me either and I am guessing it’s Ashley’s influence. I’m not mad at him. I’d go mad with jealousy if the roles were reversed.

Despite the days that have passed, I still haven’t been able to wrap my head around things, especially my last night with Demi. In that one night, she literally admitted to being in love with me, lying to me and knowing my biggest insecurity!

Ashley’s request came at a time when I needed space from Demi because I am not ready to open up and have the tough conversations about the underlying reason behind my secret identity and insecurity with my hair.

If Ash hadn’t intervened, not much would be different between Demi and I. I would still be keeping her at arm’s length because we can’t move forward in our friendship without opening those cans of worms and I’m not ready for any of that. Hence, I continue to ignore her firstly for my own sanity (even though it makes me look petty) and secondly, to stroke my brother’s ego and stave off further jealousy on his part.

More messages continue to trickle into my phone till I can’t ignore it any longer. I grab the phone to switch it off when her last message gets my attention.

[I know you’re not sleeping. I can’t sleep either. Say something, Will. I am losing my mind here. I just really need someone to talk to and right now, you’re the only one I want to converse with. I really don’t want to come knocking on your door tonight. That’s how crazy I feel right now.]

[Go to sleep, Dee. I’m not doing this with you]

[Please promise we would talk about everything soon and I’ll try to fall asleep. Please...]

It takes me a few seconds to think about it. [We will.]

Finally, the messages end. I am both relieved and worried. Did I just betray my brother’s trust by keeping in touch with his wife? In my defense, I make a mental note to clarify things when I see Demi and ensure that I get her to focus on her relationship with Ashley. That way, I wouldn’t feel bad about our chat tonight.

The next morning is super awkward. Demi hardly looks forlorn like the past couple of days. She sips her coffee with a small smile playing on her lips. Even mother notices her mood has improved.

"Nessa will be resuming today." Demi explains. "I get to go back to my less complicated role as an intern. No offense, boss." She nods to Asher who barely looks up from the stock market reports trilling on his iPad.

"You won’t remain an intern forever." Father chimes with a dry look. "And if you haven’t learnt anything from this family, then know this; we don’t shy away from opportunities to grow, we embrace them."

"Y-Yes father, I mean yes sir." Demi nods. Mom closes a reassuring hand over Demi’s fingers and winks at her. Then she looks over at Asher who has barely touched his food.

"What happened to Nessa?"

Asher’s eyebrows wing up in surprise.

"She went on a sick leave." He replies, hastily sipping his coffee and nearly burning his tongue.

"Oh, why didn’t you get a temp secretary then? Why saddle Demi with both roles?"

"It’s okay, mother. I’m so wet around the ears anymore. I’ve learnt a lot in a short time. Besides, I offered to handle Nessa’s duties. I wasn’t forced to do it."

The look Asher gives Demi tells me that that isn’t nearly the case. I know he shoved it down her throat so why is she covering for him? Demi gives him a quick glance and a small smile that I don’t miss. Something ruptures inside me. Are these two friends now?

When her eyes wheel towards me, I lurch to my feet and grab a bottle of water to go.

"I’m off."

On my way to work, I keep trying not to read too much meaning to the small smile Demi gave Asher. Why does it bother me so much? Give how green I feel, I begin to understand what Ashley must be going through and how he must feel like a joke to Demi due to her affections for me. I am not even Demi’s husband and I lost my appetite over a harmless smile she shot at my own brother?

"C’mon Ashton, this is ridiculous. You have to tame this. It’s not healthy at all."

At work, I blot out the disconcerting thought of Demi’s affection for me dwindling due to our estrangement and try to focus on my client. The woman just completed the paperwork for the purchase of a Mercedes G Class. She sits with her legs crossed, silently watching me behind her amber tinted glasses.

Her gold studded fingers taper off with blood-red nails that are like claws. Those claws gently tap my desk in an annoying rhythm while I sign my part of the documents. I try to blank out the childishness especially after she blatantly ignores my polite request that she kindly stop the act as I find it distracting.

"You and your brothers are a sight for sore eyes." She begins with a sultry curl of her lips. "I wonder where you got that from."

I hate the small talk but Gris will die of second-hand embarrassment if I leave our customer hanging. Like he can read my mind, he tacitly implores me to indulge the older lady. I stifle a low grunt and beam up at the woman sitting across from me.

"I guess we have our father to thank for the genes."

The loud scoff from the woman makes me look directly at her. Gris tenses beside me, knowing how fast my anger can brew.

"I’m sorry." She says taking off her glasses and sitting upright. "The thing is, I’ve seen your father. I mean, we were old schoolmates. I know what he looked like in his hay days and this," she says stabbing the pointy end of her right index finger at me, "...is far from it."

"Oh, he was much better looking?" Gris asks because I remain silent.

"Oh no, I wouldn’t say better looking. The quads are handsome in an elegant way. Brett was equally handsome but in a gruff way, you know. While you and your brothers have golden manes for hair and blue eyes, Brett had rich coffee brown eyes and a short cap of black hair that wouldn’t grow beyond his neck. It literally hugged his head."

"If you know my father so well, you would also know that he is married to a blond woman."

"Oh, I do. Barbara is lovely, always looks like a painting in every photograph. But the hair color isn’t the only stark difference between you boys and Brett..."

I’m done with her. I surge to my feet and shove the papers at her.

"That will be all, Mrs. Randall. My staff will have your car delivered to your preferred location in the next thirty minutes unless you would rather drive it home yourself. Thank you for choosing Rollins Automobiles. Have a terrific day."

I can tell from her narrowed eyes that she questions my home training but I don’t give two cents about her opinion. She can retract the deal for all I care. I keep selling out cars even in my absence from work. Her bad review will be like a drop in the ocean compared to the thousands of good reviews our clients have given us over the years.

Mrs. Randall feigns a smile and grabs her documents.

"I hope to see you again. There’s still so much we can learn about each other." While she winks at me, she nearly walks into Mila at the door. Gris gladly catches her before she loses her balance. She mumbles an apology to Mila and takes Gris’ hand all the way out.

"Wow. How does it feel to be pulling women your mother’s age?" Mila chuckles, plunking her bag on my desk.

"Not exciting, trust me."

Mila helps herself to a seat. She looks resplendent in her cropped sleeveless top, high-waisted jeans and sneakers. Her hair cascades around her bare back in bouncy waves. It’s the first stylish and functional outfit I’ve seen her in. I wonder if she made an effort to look this chic and comfortable knowing how much I prefer it.

"You called?"

I did. I wanted a distraction. If I had known my client will stir the pot, I probably wouldn’t have called Mila but she’s here now so I’ll just have to entertain her.

"I told you. I missed you."

"Yeah, right." She replies, rolling her eyes.

"Let’s go racing? How about that?" Her eyes light up at my suggestion.

"You’re dressed for it. A little wind in your hair will give you the blow out you never asked for. Plus, I need a partner to stick her head out of the car and scream out her lungs when I win." Mila takes my outstretched hand.

"What you’re getting is a competitor not a cheerleader. I’ll race you and beat you."

I snort at her confidence. "If I had a penny for every time I heard that one."

"Loser owes winner two truths and one dare."

She’s so weird but I shrug in acceptance and lead the way to my favorite race track. Two hours later, I am taking off my helmet and struggling not to give my tires a kick. Mila’s Bentley is already parked ahead of the finish line. She’s perched on the bumper, a goofy smile on her face.

This is my biggest loss ever. Even Ashal has never come in at first place by bloody nine seconds ahead of me. I thought I was fine but my mind is still very crammed. That’s the only explanation for this woeful defeat. It’s either that or Mila just might give me a run for my money.

"I am a little out of it today." I say, shrugging off my gloves.

"Don’t be a sore loser, Will. I am undefeated."

I look up at her. Addressing me as Will has never been a problem. I do fancy it but right now, it only reminds me of Dee.

Mila is still smiling at me. As my eyes skim her beautiful face, it just occurs to me that the two women who know my secret identity as Will and my true hair color coincidentally have a crush on me and both promise to keep my secret. I don’t know how I feel about straining both wonderful women along. I don’t want to lose either of them.

"Something wrong?"

"No."

"Would you prefer I call you Ashton?"

"Either one works. They’re both me." When I start heading back, Mila’s words surprise me.

"No. They’re both different versions of you. I call you Ashton when you’re being aloof and serious like your father expects. I call you Will when you’re carefree and wild. For the record, I like Will better. That’s the man I met." Her eyes dip to her hands when I turn to look at her. "That’s the man I like."

My heart skips a beat when she looks at me with a sultry gaze. I mope at her, unable to form words. "Do me." She says with a shrug. "Do you prefer the professional businesswoman Mila or the latest race car champion?"

My tongue loosens up a bit. "Why can’t it be both?" She is stunned by my response. "They’re all you and they’re both amazing. Each one comes in handy. There’s no reason to dislike or prefer one to another." A deep blush seeps into Mila’s cheeks. I look away to give her space for an embarrassed smile. I guess she wasn’t expecting that. I hope I didn’t just complicate our friendship by giving her butterflies.

My phone beeps in my pocket.

[You barely touched your breakfast. Don’t skip lunch-Dee]

My heart gallops just seeing her name.

"Another date?" Mila asks, coming up behind me. "I thought you were done going on those." I quickly shove the phone back in my pocket and shoot her a thin smile. "I’m serious. You never told me the details about the last one but I could tell it didn’t go so well. Why do you still keep that number? You really should be done with that."

"I’ll drop you." I tell her, tugging her hand.

***

Due to Demi’s text, I feel revved up after my sore defeat at the race track. I refuse to question how a simple text can light up my day so bright that losing to a woman in my favorite sport fails to dampen my spirit. I gradually watch the time crawl while Gris handles a presentation amongst our senior staff. When a question is addressed to me, I blink, confused.

"I’m sorry guys. Can we raincheck this meeting? I’m not feeling my best right now."

"No problem, sir." Stan, one of my loyal staff answers. As they all file out of the conference room, I get on my feet.

"Gris, I’ll be heading out for lunch. I might take longer than an hour. Text me if anything urgent comes up."

It only occurs to me that I don’t have a fail proof excuse for visiting when I park neatly in the underground parking lot of Rollins HQ. I do a quick sweep with my eyes and spot Demi’s car. Great. She hasn’t stepped out for lunch. I get to see her.

The story I am going with is that I am here to see Asher and have a private talk with him regarding Iman. That’s a conversation he has been stonewalling for some time now but we are definitely going to talk about it today.

I don’t plan on interacting with Demi for long as my promise to Ashley still stands. However, I plan on taking the opportunity to say a few words since I can’t snob my sister-in-law in front of the staff.

"Ashton?" She mutters in surprise as I step through the elevator and make my way to her amidst the gasps.

"Demi."

She stutters a bit and I silently enjoy it.

"Is Asher in?"

"Um, yes."

"I’m here to see him." I want to say more but this is as far as I go if I must stay focused. When I turn to leave, Demi’s fingers brush over mine like she meant to pull me back but chickened out last minute. It’s all in her eyes. It takes a lot of willpower to ignore the spark in them and make a beeline for Asher’s office. I knock twice and let myself in.

Asher appears shocked to see me. "Ash, what are you doing here? You didn’t call."

"I didn’t want you to make an excuse not to see me."

Asher’s eyes keep flicking towards his bathroom door.

"What? Why would I not want to see you? What is this about?"

I square my shoulders. "Four letters, IMAN."

Just then, the bathroom door opens. His secretary steps out and is shocked Asher has company. My eyes catch the pregnancy strip in her hand before she hides it behind her back. I shoot my brother a steely look. Nessa hides the strip in her hand and hurriedly leaves the room. I take one full breath and zero in on Asher’s face. I can’t believe him.

"She’s not pregnant." He tells me. "I mean, she was but now she’s not. I had to confirm."

"Really Ash? Your secretary? And you had her abort your baby?"

Asher scoffs and returns behind his desk. "Can we talk about why you’re here? Iman, right?"

I can’t believe how casual he is being. He’s right though. I am here for something else.

"What exactly are you doing regarding Iman? You said you would handle it but all I’ve seen you do is carry on with your life like an attempt wasn’t recently made to end it. What’s going on, Asher? This is unlike you."

"What’s going on is that I am being careful, Ash. Iman isn’t working alone. You told me someone knocked you out back at his house when you trashed him, right? That someone knows we are vengeful towards Iman. If he ends up dead somewhere, the police will come snooping around us first because we have the motive to exact revenge on him. We will be accused of taking the law into our hands and the media will have a field day. I can’t have that."

"So, what’s your plan?"

"Hit him when he least expects it. His fate will not be linked to us. Till then, let that motherfucker wallow in fear and eventually let his guard down. Don’t worry, bro. I’ll let you take the first punch when I get my hands on him."

Someone knocks on his door and we both turn as father pokes his head in. My outfit gives me away.

"Ashton? What a surprise?"

"Hello father. I just stopped by to see Ash. I was just on my way out."

"Nonsense." He grabs my wrist. "I came to invite your brother to lunch. He never accepts my invitation. I am glad I can have another son at lunch. You won’t turn me down, would you?" I am uncomfortable with this but father has never personally invited me to lunch before. I oblige him because it’s the first time and I don’t want him to feel bad.

"Mr. Rollins, I..." Josh looks surprised to see me.

"Oh, Josh, come in." Father urges the young man by the door. "Ashton, you remember Josh, right? Josh, this is my second son, Ashton. He will be joining us for lunch."

Excuse me? My eyes ask father. What sort of setup is this? I am hardly comfortable having lunch alone with my father and he is going to drag an employee along? Josh shoots out a hand to shake me. I shake his hand. His grip is very firm. His eyes are bright and slightly mischievous.

"I’ll come too." Asher says with his hands in his pocket. Relief floods my heart at the sound of those words so much so that I nearly miss the cold exchange between Josh and Asher. I know they’re not each other’s favorite work friend. I don’t blame Josh. Asher is very competitive and that makes it difficult to build deep connections with colleagues.

When I suggest that Demi tags along, father and Asher surprisingly reject the idea. Asher insists that Demi has plans with Anna so I don’t argue.

We all visit a popular restaurant close to the business district. Shortly after we arrive, the paparazzi is tipped off and they cram the entrance to the restaurant. Father urges me to ignore them and focus on my oysters. I flick a glance at Asher who seems to be brooding.

"You good?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I guess I am not as hungry as I thought."

Josh orders the same thing as father, even his drink of choice. I get irritated watching him interrupt every conversation father tries to have with me or Asher. For a good looking and undoubtedly handsome man, he is a shameless brownnoser.

"How’s the company?" Father tries again. "Your financial report for the last quarter was impressive."

"Thanks father. We are working on a new ad campaign for our recent luxury car collection."

"That’s impressive."

"If only his clients thought so."

I turn at Josh’s comment. "What was that?"

He drops his fork and beams at me. "Making a high profit isn’t always the best indicator of a business’ longevity. It’s the goodwill they rack up along the way and such goodwill comes from their clients. If you’re rude to your clients, word will eventually spread and the sales will start trickling."

My mind does a quick run through. "Josh Randall, right? That uncouth woman that patronized us this morning must be your mother. You two are definitely cut from the same cloth." His pained expression gives me sterling pleasure as I match the fire in his eyes.

"That’s enough." Father intervenes. "Ashton, what is this about you being rude to a customer?"

"I wasn’t rude, I was direct. Mrs. Randall obviously had a lot of time on hands and preferred to rob me of mine by engaging in idle talk. I wasn’t down for it, especially when she had a lot to say about my father. Was I wrong to have abruptly finished our business dealings and carried on with my day?"

Father sips his water to hide his embarrassment. I don’t get it. When I turn to Asher, his eyes are flat.

"You better watch the way you talk about my mother."

"Or what?" I ask josh, dumping my napkin on the table. "Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?"

"Asher, talk to your brother." Father orders in a low voice.

"I think I just got back my appetite." Asher returns, choosing to dig into his food.

"Mr. Rollins, call your son to order."

Josh’s audacity makes me snap as I surge to my feet. "Mr. Rollins? Are you kidding me, Josh? What right do you have to address my father so casually?"

"SIT DOWN ASHTON."

"TELL THAT TO YOUR ASSLICKING EMPLOYEE, FATHER. HE CLEARLY DOESN’T KNOW HIS PLACE."

"I KNOW MY PLACE." Josh returns, his red eyes sizzling with rage. Father’s head is already in his hands. Josh slams his napkin on the table and gets on his feet too. "I KNOW MY PLACE, ASHTON. I KNOW THAT I AM ALLOWED TO ADDRESS MY FATHER INFORMALLY TOO."

"Father?" I scan father’s and Asher’s face over the rubbish this employee just spewed. Their expressions don’t ease my shock.

"FATHER???" I repeat Josh’s claim, pinning my father with a death stare. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BUFFOON TALKING ABOUT, BRETT ROLLINS?"