Page 222 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

"You’re where?" Knight’s forehead wrinkles.

"I don't know. Somewhere over Mexico?" I yawn, then throw off the cover and sit up in the bed of my private jet.

On my way to the shoot, I used the plane, only to be inundated with memories of her.

I left the plane with the taste of her on my lips, the scent of her crowding my senses, the feel of her clinging to the tips of my fingers, the warmth of her pussy surrounding my dick.

That last? It hasn't left me in all the weeks I’ve been away.

I've heard about a phantom limb aching after being cut off, but what do you call a phantom pussy that never lets go of its hold on your cock?

I drag my fingers through my hair. I'm losing it.

I've been away from her for two weeks, and the shoot is far from over.

But the first weekend I have off, I've decided to hop on the plane—risking being swamped by the memories of her that cling to this plane—and go to her.

I have no idea how she's going to greet me.

No clue if she'll hit me or welcome me with open arms. Probably not the second, but even if it's the first, it's okay. At least she'll be touching me.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. That’s how desperate I’ve become; flying thousands of miles to see a woman on the off chance she’ll deign to acknowledge my presence.

"The fuck you doing away from LA?" Knight’s voice pulls me out of my meanderings.

"The last I heard, I'm a working actor. And contrary to public opinion that we sit around on our arses all day, waited on hand and foot, I wake up at four a.m. most days to work out, and then head to location for make-up, prep and shoot."

He laughs. "You also fly around in a million-dollar private jet that emits up to ten times more carbon dioxide than a normal commercial flight."

I wince. "Look, I know it doesn't make up for it, but I also donate the equivalent of what it costs to fly on one to off-set carbon omissions."

He blinks. "You do?"

I rise to my feet and pad over to the adjoining bathroom. "You sound surprised."

"Knowing you, I shouldn’t be. You’re the most generous person I know."

"Not like you don’t do more than your share with your inheritance." I prop the phone on the counter, then flip up the lid of the commode and shove my sweatpants down.

"It’s only money." He raises a shoulder.

"You only say that because you were born with it." The sound of my stream of urine hitting the porcelain fills the air.

"As were you."

"It’s why we’re happy to give it away. Now, if we’d been like Cade and born with not a penny to our names—"

As if summoned, my phone vibrates with a notification that indicates Cade is waiting to join the call.

"I’m patching him in," Knight warns.

Cade’s face appears on screen. "Hey, motherfuckers."

"And here I’d hoped I didn’t have to see your butt-ass ugly mug for a little longer," I groan.

"Aww, did you miss me, honey?" He makes smooching noises. "Catching you with your wiener in your hand, too. How appropriate."

"Go fuck yourself," I grumble, then pull up my sweats and flush.

"Heard you’re having girl problems?" Cade smile widens.

"Heard you’re having performance issues?"

Cade whistles. "Descending to that, are we? It must be love," he sings out.

"Shut the fuck up, wankface."

"I’ve seen Trappist monks look happier than you, bro," he offers.

"This is what you get when you wake me up in between time zones and countries." I scratch my unshaven chin.

"So, you get a day off and decide to hop a flight to go see your lady love?"

"What’s it to you?" I scowl.

"Since you’re the first of us three to decide to settle down—"

The blood drains from my face. "Who said anything about settling down?"

"You’re doing a twenty-four-hour turnaround to go see her. Hence…" He raises a shoulder.

"Hence nothing. A man’s entitled to go back home, isn’t he?"

"Keep fooling yourself into thinking that," he chuckles.

"Is there a point to this call, you mofos?"

"Yeah, don’t screw it up," Knight growls.

"Screw what up?" I pad out into the main cabin and toward the small galley where a buffet has been laid out. I ignore the food and pour myself a cup of coffee.

Cade jumps in. "Your chance at happiness, you dumbass. Not that I'm a proponent of marriage. But you’ve been mooning over this girl for months—"

"So have you."

He blinks. "Ex-fucking-cuse me."

Ha, got ya, asswipe.

"You’ve been carrying around a torch for this woman and you haven’t bothered to acknowledge it, so don’t preach unless you can follow what you teach, and all that."

"Huh? Do I know what you two are talking about?" Knight lowers his eyebrows. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes," I say at the same time Cade growls, "Nope."

"Which one is it?" He glances between the two screens with our faces.

"It doesn’t matter." Cade walks into what looks like a dressing room. "Wankface here is trying to distract us by drawing attention away from him." He places the phone on a bench, then begins to strip.

"Fuck, I could do without the sight of your arse filling the screen."

"You showed me your pecker. Only fair I up the ante."

Knight groans. "I did not get on a call with the two of you to be treated to a display of your private parts. Trust me, I get enough of that from my fellow team members."

"It’s what happens when the three of us are so strapped for time that the only time we get to meet is when one or the other of us is getting undressed."

Cade carries the phone with him into the shower. "I have five minutes to get clean and join the team manager for a press conference, which is why I jumped on the call, by the way."

"And here I thought it was because your week wasn’t complete unless you jumped on a call with the two of us," I scoff.

"That, too." He switches the phone to his other hand. "Other than my sister, you two are the only family I have. The least I can do is get on a weekly call with you guys. Even if it means I have to suffer through the puppy dog eyes of Mr. Lovesick here."

"That’s it, I’m gonna sign off—" I begin, but Knight cuts me off.

"The press-conference, what’s it for?"

Cade hesitates, then, "Not much. You’re looking at the new Captain of the English cricket team, is all."

"Knew it. Congratulations, douchebag," Knight says warmly.

"For once you’re being almost modest. It must mean a lot to you, huh?"

Cade glances away, which, in itself, is unusual. The man’s ego rivals mine, if that were possible. He's hiding something.

"It’s a culmination of everything I’ve worked for since high school," he murmurs.

"It’s fucking great news. I’m chuffed for you." I hold up my fist, and Cade virtual bumps it.

"It’s brilliant." He cracks his neck. "Of course, it’s only the beginning."

Knight laughs. "Of course."

"World domination and all that, huh?" I can’t hold back the tinge of sarcasm coloring my words.

Cade smirks. "Now, now. It’s what you want, too, which is why you've been chasing the top spot in Hollywood all these years. And it’s not about the money, considering how loaded your folks are."

"You’re right. It was never only about the money. Although, I prefer to be independent and support my lifestyle without drawing on my father’s wealth. There’s a different feeling when you spend your own money. It’s about—"

"Don’t say creative satisfaction. The three of us know that’s what’s driving you to see yourself on the big screen."

"Creative satisfaction. What’s that?" I drum my fingers on my chest. "I’m not naive enough to believe I can follow my heart’s desire and also make it to the top of the food chain."

"And that’s more important?" Knight sets his jaw.

"You mean being number one? Of course it is," I snap at the same time that Cade says, "You bet your balls it is."

Knight’s lips thin. "You wankers have got it all wrong."

"Your morality compass is on a different level, Knight. You believe in the power of right. That good always prevails. That doing the right thing pays dividends." Cade hunches his shoulders. "At least you still have a conscience, which is more than I can say for the two of us fuckers."

"It’s how I’m wired. It’s why I joined the army," Knight confesses.

"And we count on you to hold onto your path." I quirk my lips. "Between Cade and me, we have enough transgressions; we need you to balance out the scales."

"Whoa, hold on. You’re making me sound like a saint."

"Compared to the two of us, I reckon you are." Cade laughs.

"You two give me too much credit. You have no idea how many times I question why I took this route." A haunted look comes into his eyes. "Some of the things I’ve seen here would…"

"Surely, give us nightmares. And yet, you persist. Damn, if I don’t have the utmost respect for that, too." I tip my chin.

"When you’re in it every day, it doesn’t feel like a path to be respected or that it’s right.

There are enough moments where I’m in a grey area, when my sanity takes a beating and I wish I were a hundred miles away.

And then, something else happens, and it makes everything worthwhile. " His features soften.

"I wish you could share more with us. It’s crazy you’re not allowed to talk about what you go through."

"They do have shrinks for that," he replies and tilts his head. A beeping sound starts up on his side. "Guess my time's up—" He blows out a breath. "I need to get on."

Cade jerks his chin. "Anytime you need to talk, bro, you know where to find me." He raises his middle finger at the screen. "Also, before I forget, congratulations Mr. Action Hero."

"You follow the entertainment news?" I ask, taken aback.

"Uh…" He reddens. "I might have an online alert on your name for industry news."

"Aww, should I be touched?" I blow him a kiss.

"Fuck you, too, asshole. You take care of yourself, Knight." His screen goes blank.

"Cocky wankface. He’s going to take a hit one of these days, and then things will never be the same." I scoff.

"Pot, kettle, and all that." Knight touches his fingers to his forehead. "I gotta go. Talk next week?"

He signs off. I toss back the rest of the coffee, then place it on the counter. I head back into the stateroom, take a quick shower, then pull up the script I need to memorize before I land in LA.

A secret no one tells you about actors? It helps if you can speed read, and even more, if you have a near photographic memory.

The first I’ve learned, the second I’ve cultivated, and it’s especially helpful when it comes to remembering fight choreography.

It’s amazing what the human mind can do when you set your mind to it.

For the next few hours, I focus on the script and have memorized another hundred pages when the pilot announces we’re landing.

A sensation very much like happiness fills my chest.

Los Angeles has always been a pit-stop, a place to sleep in between shoots, somewhere to call a base because it's convenient since it’s where the Hollywood decision-makers are based.

This is the first time I can remember, I’m actually happy to be here and looking forward to going home. Home? Because she’s here.

I rub my temple. There’s no cause for this sense of anticipation that fills me. Nope, it’s not about her. It’s not. I’m just exhausted and looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. That’s all it is.

The jet taxies to a stop. I head down the stairway and toward where my car is waiting. The person standing next to it is someone I don’t recognize.

"Where’s Rick?" I scowl.

"He said to give you this." He holds up his phone.

I glance at the screen, then swear. "Take me to her."