Page 12

12

Aldous

“ Y ou still there?”

Aldous barely heard the question in his earphones, revulsion surging through him. He sat on the bedroom balcony, watching the sun set over the Pacific, so relieved to be back at home he wanted to dissolve right into his sun lounger. The bright orange of the sun gradually faded into the blackness of night. Jasmine curled up against his thigh, her snores low and gentle. She’d nudged against him in her sleep, but he didn’t have the heart to move away.

Besides, it felt strangely…comforting.

Roman’s laugh rang out from the balcony downstairs, and Aldous felt ill.

Dex. He was on the phone to Dex—his ex-boyfriend, arranging a visit.

Aldous hadn’t expected to have this reaction, but Roman’s mention of an ex- boyfriend had hit him like a fist to the gut. All day, images of Roman in bed with another man had assailed his mind, taking residence there and refusing all attempts to evict them.

He wasn’t homophobic.

…was he?

He had gay friends, for Christ’s sake. Two of his university housemates had got together during his first year of university, quickly moving to a single bedroom—right next to his own. Fuck, he’d even walked in on them in the living room once.

He’d never thought twice about it. He’d certainly never been disturbed by it.

Absent-mindedly stroking Jasmine’s ear, Aldous’s swallow was impeded by the lump in his throat. It was true that he had gay friends, but his experiences weren’t all good.

“Aldous?” Jensen’s voice interrupted.

He blinked, forcefully pulling his focus back to the group call. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Rhys’s voice filled his ears. “Jensen asked how things were going with Brianna.”

Bri.

Roman hadn’t been the only one on his mind. Yesterday’s events in the records room had clung to him like sweat, drowning him in a desire that he could never quench. After they’d arrived home in the early hours of the morning, Aldous had been exhausted.

Even then, he hadn’t gone to bed. Instead, he’d stumbled into an icy shower to try and douse his ardour—without success. His cock screamed to be touched, but Aldous couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Things are… better than expected,” he admitted grudgingly. He couldn’t deny it. “I like her.” Far too much.

He’d especially liked discovering what she looked like beneath her clothes, hearing her moan when Roman stroked her, seeing how her cunt clenched.

It was a secret he would take to his grave… but all of that was new to him.

After his childhood experiences, he’d suppressed his desires, locking that part of him away and throwing away the key. He’d never watched porn. He’d never been with a woman. Shit, he’d never even kissed anyone. He’d reached a point where he believed he was asexual—or maybe he just convinced himself. The closest he’d come to sexual pleasure was his dreams, waking hard and wanting with an ache he would never fulfil.

But his experience with Bri and Roman had him questioning everything he thought he knew about himself.

For the first time in his life, Aldous wanted more.

Careful, cutie, or I’ll bend you over the desk and fuck you in front of your husband.

Aldous had thought about Roman’s words so often they were likely branded on the inside of his skull. Would Bri want that? Aldous certainly knew his answer.

“I’m glad you like her.” Jensen’s tone suggested otherwise. “But—”

Rhys barrelled over him. “Just be careful.”

“She’s not like her mother,” Aldous assured them. Being the youngest meant Jensen and Rhys constantly strived to protect him. Even if Aldous was now older than either Rhys or Jensen had been when they’d been sent to prison. “Trust me, I was prepared to hate her just as much as you.”

Idly, Aldous checked his watch. Bri had said her sister was coming for dinner, and she’d likely be here soon. Not that he’d tell any of his family that; he didn’t want another lecture on maintaining his distance around his own wife. But instead of the time, it was the date that caught his eye.

20 th June .

And suddenly Aldous realised why Rhys and Jensen had called.

It was the anniversary of Graeme Friedman’s death.

The day a thirteen-year-old Aldous had finally broken down and told his mother what Friedman had been doing to him for five agonising years. The memories of that day hadn’t deteriorated since. Mum had picked him up from school after Friedman’s class. They were touted as one-to-one remedial study sessions, but Aldous quickly discovered they were anything but.

Even now, Aldous wasn’t sure what had set him off. It wasn’t like he’d left the class with the conviction to tell Mum everything. The class had been no worse than any other with Friedman. He still remembered feeling the welts on his back smarting when he gingerly sat down in the car, his body violated and abused and broken.

And Mum? Mum had smiled and asked how his day was.

For once, he hadn’t lied.

His answer sent their lives crashing down around them. The night that ended with Rhys being taken away in a police car and Jensen being rushed to hospital. Friedman hadn’t lived to see sunrise, and Aldous swore he’d never allow himself to be touched by a man again.

For the first time in 14 years, Aldous had forgotten.

That felt like a milestone all on its own.

“Look,” he began, still petting Jasmine. He froze slightly when he realised what he was doing. How long had he been sitting here scratching her without conscious thought? Like a normal human being who wasn’t horribly scarred by his past both in and out. “I need to go. But thank you for calling. I appreciate it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jensen asked. “Normally you’re… bad around this time.”

“I am,” he said truthfully, purposefully stroking Jasmine as she stretched. His situation was far from ideal. God knows he’d rather not have to deal with Vivian fucking Yarborough and her ilk, but Bri had soothed him more than she knew. And maybe I am starting to move on.

Maybe he was starting to heal.

After saying his goodbyes, Aldous made his way down the spiral staircase, circling the long chandelier suspended from the ceiling of the second floor. Light shone from within it, throwing the shadows of both himself and Jasmine onto the wall.

He was beginning to like the house, he had to admit. No-one in their right mind could complain about the location. The weather was gorgeous, raining sun down on them without fail.

As he entered the extensive kitchen, Aldous realised what he liked most about the house.

Bri lived in it.

Between the acres of gleaming marble countertops, Bri stood at the stove, humming along to a tune only she could hear. The air was warm and thick with garlic and butter, coiling around him like a snake as he hovered in the shadows of the doorway.

He stood in rapt attention, both unable and unwilling to tear his gaze away from her. Her hips swayed as she cooked, holding his gaze hostage.

The memory of yesterday simmered in his blood.

Aldous knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to see her like that again.

It was Jasmine that gave him away—or her tail, at any rate. She padded into the kitchen to approach Bri, her tail slamming into the kitchen cabinets with excitement.

“Well, hello sweetie pie,” Bri turned, leaving her spoon in the pan and bending to give Jasmine a scratch. She sighted him in the doorway a moment later, her voice softening. “Hey.”

Was that bashfulness in her gaze? He hoped so. Was she remembering yesterday? Aldous approached her slowly, casually leaning against the kitchen island. “No sweetie pie for me?”

She picked up a large measuring jug full of stock, slowly pouring it into the pan and stirring. “You’re many things, Aldous Stone, but I’m not sure that’s one of them.”

He did his best to hide his smile. “How are you feeling about the trip?” He knew she was disappointed about not finding her father. How could she not be?

Bri bit her lip, throwing him a flirtatious smirk. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

It only took him a heartbeat to realise they were talking about very different things.

There was that arousal bubbling beneath his skin again, ready to pour out at a moment’s notice. “Neither have I, wife, ” he admitted, letting his gaze prowl down her body. Her oversized t-shirt hid her curves, but the skimpy shorts beneath ended at her upper thigh—an inch or two below her shirt. Almost like she’d borrowed a shirt from a lover after spending the night with them.

The shirt wasn’t his, but suddenly he wanted it to be.

The drone of a buzzer rang through the kitchen, and the two of them shared a look.

“That’ll be my sister.” Bri stared at the pan hesitantly. “Of course she’s early.” She moved, jogging over to the nearest intercom. “Can you keep stirring it whilst I let her in? And add what’s in the jug a bit at a time until it’s gone.”

“Sure.” Aldous approached the oven, recognising the contents of the pan as a risotto. Or nearly a risotto, anyway. As he followed Bri’s instructions, voices began to drift in.

“—medication is working well,” Bri said brightly. “How are things going with, uh, work?”

The groan strolling down the corridor suggested things were not going well, but heavy steps thudding down the spiral staircase interrupted it.

“Evening, Reina.” Roman was as jovial as ever. Was that because he’s just spoken to his ex?

Reina’s response was drowned out as Aldous’s thoughts swept in like a tsunami. Was he annoyed at Roman laughing and joking with his ex because of what happened in the records room? Because he didn’t want Roman playing with Bri’s emotions?

That must be it.

He jumped as Bri appeared next to him, nosing over the risotto he’d been stirring on autopilot. “Looks great.” She smiled. “Let’s eat.”

Although the risotto had been cooked from scratch, the beef wellington that accompanied it was one of the meals his personal chef had dropped off for the week. Given he’d only just moved to Los Angeles, he hadn’t sampled many of the staple dishes she offered—including the beef wellington.

Aldous approved. Encased in golden puff pastry, the beef was cooked to perfection, the sight of its rich pink centre almost as good as its scent. He’d definitely have to make this a regular feature on his weekly meal requests.

Particularly if Bri was going to keep moaning like that.

“Oh my god, this is good,” she sighed, eagerly tucking in to her next bite.

Reina nodded, giving her sister an almost tentative smile. “You seem happy.”

“I am,” Bri agreed, her attention briefly jumping to Aldous and Roman before she looked down at her plate, her cheeks beginning to glow. “We may not have found my dad yet, but the Mexico trip was… fun.”

“I’m glad.” Reina grinned, with an apologetic look at Aldous. “I’m sorry to say that I do have a message to pass on.”

What did it say about Vivian if both of her daughters were apologising for her? “I half expected you to,” Aldous replied, letting out a huff as he leant back in his chair. “What does she want?”

“Your company—Alpine Ridge—has issued a request for proposals for a contract to supply. One of those proposals will be from a company called Harper Materials. You’re to accept the request and pay the amount they require.”

Frustration ticked in his jaw. “Am I to assume that the bid will not be competitive?”

“Correct.”

“But I’m to pay it anyway?”

“Correct,” Reina said again, fiddling with her hair, looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. “I’m just passing on the message. That’s all.”

Given Reina’s line of work, Aldous expected Reina to be more like Vivian. The more time he spent around Reina, though, the more he realised she was nothing like Vivian. He certainly hadn’t expected to empathise with her. Aldous didn’t know whether Roman and Bri saw it, but he certainly did. Her eyes darted around, constantly in movement—and rarely holding anyone’s gaze for long.

It was subtle. Subtle enough to be overlooked.

For someone like him, however, it glared like lights on a runway. Aldous recognised it because he lived it . He mostly had it contained, but there were times his anxiety got the best of him. The wedding had been one of them. He’d been a sweaty wreck by the time he staggered up to his hotel room.

He just hoped she hadn’t suffered like he had.

Regardless of who they were—or what atrocities they had committed—nobody deserved that.