Anyone But the Superstar (Anyone But You #3)

Chapter 27

27

FELIX

I never imagined it would be so hard to apologize.

Not that I thought it would be easy. Or that I’d be forgiven. I mean, if I were Elizabeth, I’d nut kick me at first sight before telling me to fuck off.

‘Camilla dear, I’m so glad you could make it.’ Elizabeth’s voice, stiff and lilting, filters through the cracked-open secret door built between the Moore brothers’ offices.

The door I’m standing behind, wedged in between the brother who punched me and the brother who thought Mike Hunt a good name for a hairless cat.

The brothers who have denied me the opportunity to beg for forgiveness since I landed in New York an hour ago.

‘ Elizabeth .’ Camilla’s surprise is quickly followed by two loud air kisses.

‘I knew the secret door would come in handy,’ Chase whispers.

Thomas doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. He shuts his younger brother up and wipes the satisfied expression off his face with a single raised eyebrow .

I make note to try and imitate it if I ever play a mafia boss.

Before Jack left me at the airport, he said a car would be waiting for me when I landed in New York. That it would take me where I needed to go. That it was all part of the plan. Not having time to ask questions, I ran full speed through the airport to make my last-minute flight, hopeful that the plan Jack mentioned was Elizabeth’s.

In fact, I was so hopeful, I didn’t even care about missing my call time. Or that Ron was going to have the one more mistake he needed to officially place me on his blacklist. Not wasting a moment, I spent the entire five-hour flight rehearsing ways to apologize to Elizabeth for the awful things I’d said and almost believed. To find the words to encourage her to introduce herself to her father and sister. To help her realize how lucky they would be to have her in their lives. How lucky I would be if she gave me another chance.

I may have overheard the flight attendants muttering that I was either practicing for a movie or had cracked under the recent tabloid stories.

Landing, my hope was further bolstered by the chauffeur who met me at the arrival gate holding a sign with Johnny Douchebag scrawled across in black marker.

However, when I was driven into a basement garage and escorted by security up a private elevator only to be deposited into a chair situated in front of a large desk which Thomas Moore sat behind, all hope met a quick and violent death.

After his secretary, part of the office escort crew, mentioned Chase Moore’s imminent arrival, Thomas and I waited – alone – in tense silence.

Me noting how, despite being dressed in an impeccably tailored three-piece suit, the eldest Moore child looked no less savage than he had while swinging his fist while wearing a sequined kitty-cat t-shirt. Him, probably debating the various places he could hide my body.

So when Chase finally waltzed in wearing a smile and Mike Hunt strapped to his chest, I felt something akin to relief. Which then dissipated when the younger Moore decided to bypass my outstretched hand and instead greeted me with a hard, passive-aggressive slap/punch on my back, followed by Mike’s complete refusal to even acknowledge my presence.

It was the cat’s silent treatment that truly hurt.

Now out of his carrier, Mike’s been grooming his left testicle for the last five minutes.

Between the flight, navigating intense animosity from two polar opposite brothers, being rejected by a hairless pussy and now hearing Elizabeth’s and then Camilla’s voice next door, I have lived an entire lifetime of emotions in the span of six hours.

Ignoring the two men who want to maim if not kill me, I lean forward toward the bookcase-camouflaged door to better hear the conversation happening in Chase’s neighboring office.

‘What an unexpected surprise.’ Camilla’s over-annunciated syllables grate on my nerves. ‘I didn’t know you worked at Moore’s.’ She says the word like it’s beneath her.

‘It is my family’s company, after all.’ Elizabeth sounds unaffected by the condescension.

‘Hmmm.’ There’s a wealth of insinuation in that sound.

‘I’m here as the final step between you and your collaboration with Moore’s.’

‘Final step?’ Camilla’s voice sharpens. ‘The contracts are signed. I was told I was here for product selection.’

‘That was before.’

‘Before what?’

‘Before you started blackmailing people.’

I hold my breath, fists clenched .

‘I—I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Listen, Cammie.’ Elizabeth’s voice softens, having heard the tell-tale stutter. ‘I know what it’s like.’

‘Know what what’s like?’

‘I know what it’s like to be put in a box. Told what to do and when to do it. Not knowing if your choices are your own or what others want from you.’

Thomas’ eye twitches. Chase’s foot bounces up and down.

My heart aches.

‘But you don’t have to find your way like this.’ Papers shuffle. ‘By signing these, you can start fresh. Stop hurting people and work with Moore’s to?—’

Camilla laughs. ‘Are you under the impression that I did what I did because I feel trapped?’ She snorts. ‘You know, I hadn’t heard much from you since the whole mishap with your father.’ Camilla pauses. ‘I mean the man you thought was your father.’

The three of us start.

Mike pauses his licking.

‘But it seems that your whole sabbatical from real life has made you delusional.’

There’s a pause.

‘I see.’ Elizabeth sounds disappointed, yet unsurprised.

‘Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to continue on with what I came here for.’

‘Certainly.’ There’s a click and then, ‘You can send them in.’

I glance to either side of me, but neither Thomas nor Chase gives any indication of what’s happening next.

‘Here we are,’ a different woman calls out, entering the room.

‘Our mother,’ Chase whispers.

‘I was just treating Mr Branson to a late lunch. ’

‘The treat was all mine, Eleanor,’ a man, Mr Branson I’m guessing, replies.

Elizabeth’s mother titters. ‘Oh, stop it.’

‘Daddy?’ Camilla’s voice sounds strangled. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was invited, of course. The Moores have given an interest in donating to the Branson Foundation.’

‘They have?’ Camilla sounds as confused as I feel.

‘Yes, but, just as we were getting to the nitty-gritty, Thomas had to leave.’ His voice turns arctic. ‘Something about rumors involving your dealings with Felix Jones and Amanda Willis?’

My heart speeds up.

‘Oh, ah, that’s nothing, Daddy. Just a—a misunderstanding.’

‘Well now—’ Mr Branson bounces back to his previous jovial tone ‘—that’s settled then. You can just sign these and then Eleanor and I can get back to that donation they’ve been wanting to make.’

‘But—but Dad, this isn’t what I agreed to. This is just a series of non-disclosure agreements.’

‘Yes. They are.’ Goosebumps break out on my arms over Mr Branson’s emotionless tone. ‘And you will sign them, in addition to the dissolution contract ending your previous collaboration agreement.’

‘But—’

‘ Or you can consider yourself cut off. Permanently . Do I make myself clear?’

We all three lean forward, foreheads nearly touching the bookcase, to hear Camilla’s forlorn capitulation. ‘Yes, Daddy.’

I might have felt a sliver of sympathy toward Camilla if I wasn’t champing at the bit to get to Elizabeth. To thank her. To apologize. To grovel.

To do all the things .

But as I reach for the hidden latch, just after hearing everyone move to exit Chase’s office, Thomas rests a heavy hand on my shoulder, stopping me. Again.

‘Why don’t we reconvene tomorrow, Mr Branson?’

I turn toward the non-secret door, where Eleanor’s voice rises then fades as she walks past.

‘Now that the papers are signed, we can schedule a lunch to discuss the charitable…’

I move to follow, but Chase blocks my path.

I’m getting really fucking tired of their interference.

His smile now threatening in conjunction with his aggressive stance. ‘We didn’t invite you here to reconcile with our sister.’

Disappointment flares. ‘ You invited me?’

Thomas nods, moving beside his brother. ‘We invited you here so you could understand just how much you don’t deserve her.’ His tone deceptively bored. ‘The money Elizabeth had Mother donate to the Branson Foundation? It’s hers. She insisted.’

Chase crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Her inheritance. Money she hasn’t touched ever since she found out that she isn’t our father’s daughter. Money we were hoping she’d use for her , not you.’

Thomas’ left eyebrow arches. ‘She’s too good for you.’

I swallow, feeling sick over the money, the effort Elizabeth has made. Effort I don’t deserve. ‘You’re right.’ Fighting back nausea over my asshole actions, I gauge the distance between here and the door, more motivated than ever to get to Elizabeth. ‘I was dumb and scared, and I screwed up.’ I take turns looking both brothers in the eye. ‘But I love her.’

Feeling very much like one of the many action heroes I’ve played, I assess which brother I might have to incapacitate first if I want to reach Elizabeth. It’s two against one, but as they’re encumbered in perfectly fitted business suits and I’m still in California casual – shorts and a t-shirt – I’ve got mobility on my side.

‘And if there’s even a chance she’s dumb enough to love me back—’ I sidestep, making note of Chase mirroring my move, while Thomas inches closer ‘—then I’m going to do everything I can to spend the rest of my life apologizing for my lack of intelligence while thanking God for hers.’ Giving up on stealth, I raise my fists and brace for impact. ‘Including fighting the two of you if I have to.’

Yet, instead of throwing the first punch, the two brothers do something far more chilling. They share a look – Chase for once grim, Thomas for once smiling – before turning their attention back to me.

I’ve never felt so imperiled in my entire life. Not even before BASE jumping Shanghai Tower.

Knock. Knock.

My eyes shift hopefully to the secret door between Chase and Thomas.

‘Don’t kill him!’

‘We’re here to help!’

Like a child whose playtime was interrupted by chores, Chase sighs and gestures me back.

Not asking twice, I retreat to the center of the room as two women push themselves through the bookcase door.

Thomas reaches out a hand to the smaller blonde. Chase pats the redhead’s butt.

‘Hi.’ The blonde steps forward but is held back by Thomas. Rolling her eyes in the face of his grimness, she smiles. ‘I’m Alice. Thomas’ wife.’

Looking between the two, I could not ask for a more prime example of the grump and sunshine trope popular in so many famous romantic comedies .

The redhead swats at Chase’s hand and waves. ‘And I’m Bell.’ She has a slight Southern accent that reminds me of Texas.

Raising my hand in answer, I feel like the odd man out. ‘I’m Felix.’ I glance behind them at the office that mirrors the one we’re all standing in. ‘Were you in there with Elizabeth during the meeting?’

‘Oh no,’ Alice answers. ‘We were listening from the bathroom.’

‘The Moores tend to eavesdrop a lot.’ Bell leans forward, giving my arm a playful punch. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

Ignoring Chase’s laser focus on where Bell just touched me, I replay what his wife just said. ‘I’ll get used to it?’

‘Yes.’ A genuine, bright smile lights up Alice’s brown eyes. She tilts her head up and back to stare at Thomas. ‘Because we all decided that we’re going to respect Elizabeth’s feelings and think about what she would want, right?’ She speaks slow and loud, making me think she’s talking more to Thomas than to me.

Amazingly, Thomas nods in answer. ‘As I was saying, we didn’t just invite you here to show you how much you don’t deserve Elizabeth.’

Alice’s smile wavers.

Avoiding his wife’s eyes, Thomas continues. ‘We also decided to aid you in coming up with an apology worthy of our sister.’

With a satisfied shimmy, Alice returns her attention to me.

‘Since apparently, you can’t do it yourself,’ Thomas mutters.

Either Alice doesn’t hear him or she’s has made the wise decision to ignore him.

‘My apology?’

Thomas glowers harder, if that’s possible. ‘Were you not going to apologize?’

‘I’ve been trying to—’ I stop, pausing to take a breath and release my mounting frustration. ‘ Of course I’m going to apologize. I’ve been trying to call but she hasn’t been answering her phone.’

Rather than looking appeased, Thomas seems satisfied. ‘Yes. I had her change her phone number.’

‘Because of the press?’

He tilts his head, considering. ‘There’s that. But also because I didn’t want to make it so easy for you.’

I can tell Thomas and I are going to be fast friends.

I close my eyes for a moment, reminding myself that while right now, they are a huge pain in my ass, it’s great that Elizabeth has such caring brothers. ‘Listen, I flew here with the sole purpose of apologizing.’ I wave towards the secret door. ‘So while the thing with Camilla was great, I don’t need it. I just need Elizabeth.’ I focus on my hardest critics, Thomas and Chase. ‘Who you just kept me from.’

Neither brother looks regretful.

‘Tell me something.’ Bell draws my attention. ‘Did you call her before or after she sent you that video of your co-star selling you out?’ She folds her arms across her chest, looking more formidable than her husband as he reaches down to pick up a thoroughly nut-clean Mike Hunt.

‘Before.’ I open my phone and bring up my call history. ‘I regretted what I said the moment I said it. I just… my mom…’

Bell’s expression softens. ‘Yeah, I get it. If someone threatened my mom, I would’ve lost it.’

‘Me too!’

Pivoting toward the office entrance – the non-secret one – I’m greeted by a cat in a stroller being pushed by a girl wearing an astronaut helmet and a glitter-speckled tutu.

The cat – who from his hairy nature, I can only assume is the regal King Dick Moore – yawns under his lace bonnet.

‘I’d get mad if someone was mean to my mommy. ’

Alice seems to melt at the little girl’s words. ‘Thank you, Mary.’

Thomas strides to the little girl, bending down to kiss her nose before closing her visor.

Mary giggles, flipping her visor back open. ‘Did you figure out how to get him to tell Aunt Liz that he loves her, yet?’ She looks expectantly at Thomas.

‘Not yet.’

She pouts at his reply before pushing the stroller and cat toward the couch. ‘Did you show him the list?’ With a grunt, Mary lifts Dick out of the stroller, lowering him to one side of the couch.

Mike abandons Chase, leaping from his arms and bounding up onto the cushion next to Dick’s.

‘The list.’ Alice rocks back on her heels, clapping her hands. ‘I almost forgot.’ She hurries across the large Oriental rug and out the door.

I address the only one who seems to know what’s going on. ‘You made a list?’

Mary nods, settling herself between the two cats. ‘In case you had trouble coming up with ideas for the gesture.’

‘Gesture?’

‘Here it is!’ Alice re-enters the office, pushing a rolling whiteboard into the room.

Studying the many colored Post-it notes arranged in a grid-like pattern on the board, I move closer to read one. ‘Thread golf balls in arch over new Gucci golf bags.’

‘Oh no.’ Alice places both hands on my arm to guide me back a few steps so she has room to flip the whiteboard over.

Thomas incinerates my arm with his eyes.

‘ This is the list. ’

I stare at the wobbly letters written in all-caps and in alternating colors.

‘I wrote it,’ Mary chimes in, somehow having procured a tea set which she’s set up on the coffee table, cups in front of her, Mike and King Dick.

Even the best Hollywood scriptwriters couldn’t make this stuff up.

Forcing my attention back to the board, I read the first line out loud. ‘Hang a billboard saying, “I’m sorry” in Times Square.’

‘Simple and effective.’ Bell’s face lights up. ‘Plus, I know all the marketing people in New York.’ She snaps her fingers. ‘I could get this done tonight, no problem.’

Navigating her idea as I would any writer pitching me a role I don’t want, I try for diplomacy. ‘Why, I think that’s a great idea, and I thank you so much for offering to help, but I’m having trouble seeing how that would appeal to Elizabeth.’

Bell’s expression flattens.

‘Elizabeth hates being the center of attention,’ I explain. ‘I’m not sure drawing all of New York’s and probably the country’s attention to her is the best idea.’

Her lips twist to the side, muttering, ‘Well, we could always just post the picture of you and your apron.’

Chase jerks his eyes to his wife. ‘What was that?’

‘Hmmm?’ Bell flutters her lashes at him. ‘What was what?’

Ignoring the marital squabble, and the knowledge that Bell has seen Elizabeth’s sketch book, I read the next line. ‘Set up meeting with her real dad and my new aunt to meet her.’

Thomas nods, resolute. ‘Elizabeth wants to meet them.’

‘Yes.’ I draw out the words, wondering how diplomatic I have to be to not get punched. ‘But shouldn’t Elizabeth be the one to decide if, when and where she meets them?’ I glance at Alice, my biggest cheerleader and ally against my biggest nemesis. ‘We shouldn’t take that decision away from her, right?’

As I hoped, Alice nods. ‘That’s a good point, Felix.’

Thomas, nostrils flaring, is at my side in two strides.

I brace for impact, but instead of attacking me, he aggressively wipes his suggestion off the board with his hand, like a child throwing a mini tantrum.

Alice studies her shoes for a beat before lifting her head with a carefully arranged neutral expression, and helps Thomas wipe dry erase marker remnants off his fingers with his handkerchief.

Having dodged a bullet, or more accurately, a fist, I return to the board, reading under Thomas’ half-smeared suggestion. ‘Hold a family dinner.’

‘That would be my idea.’ Eleanor Moore waltzes into the room.

I lean back, searching for Elizabeth, but she doesn’t appear.

‘Sorry, Felix, but I sent her home.’ She gestures to her sons in a what-can-you-do kind of way, looking elegant and regal as she does.

A battle was lost, but not the war, I tell myself as Eleanor continues.

‘Elizabeth was forever gathering us around the dinner table, even when she was a child.’

‘Even when we wanted to kill each other,’ Chase adds.

Thomas shakes out his handkerchief before folding it twice into the perfect square and sliding it into his pocket. ‘Even when we were less than appreciative.’

The three Moores share a look, this one filled with love and happy memories. Making me remember that most of all, the moments where Elizabeth seemed to open up to me were over the simple, shared meals I made for us in the condo.

‘I love that idea, Eleanor. ’

Elizabeth’s mother’s smile rivals her diamonds.

‘However.’

‘Oh God.’ Chase collapses in a huff, laying his forehead on her shoulder. ‘Now what’s wrong?’

I grimace, not knowing exactly how to explain, even though my mother clearly said she didn’t mind people knowing about her addiction. ‘My mother really cares for Elizabeth, even after only talking to her a few times on the phone. And I was hoping that the first family dinner we had would include my mother.’ I shrug one shoulder. ‘But she won’t be available until next week because she’s…’

Eleanor’s slim hand drops on my raised shoulder, easing it back down. ‘Because she is currently doing the brave and healthy thing by taking the time to recover and deal with her illness.’

I nod, grateful for Eleanor’s phrasing. ‘I won’t pick her up for a week.’ I stare Thomas in the eye. ‘And I don’t want to wait that long. I can’t.’

The silence that follows is interrupted by the clink of plasticware.

‘Have you told her that you love her?’ Mary, helmet visor up, pours Dick an imaginary cup of tea.

As unaffected as I am by hundreds of people staring at me while I’m performing – both in front of a camera and on the red carpet – my skin has never felt so hot as it does now when all Moores turn to stare at me, the same straightforward question in their eyes.

‘Um, no.’

Mary shakes her head, her astronaut helmet twisting as she does. ‘I go to a feelings doctor.’ Alice smiles at her daughter. ‘And my feelings doctor says that whenever you feel stuck, you should talk about your feelings.’ She pretends to pour Mike Hunt tea .

Mike hovers over his cup, meowing in disappointment to find it empty.

Lowering the plastic teapot to the table, Mary straightens her helmet. ‘Why don’t you just talk to Elizabeth?’

Wide, brown eyes have never made me feel so small or so dumb.

And I can’t help but think about what my mother said to me on our last phone call, and the advice she always gave me, whether it was in reference to cooking, acting or life – ‘Simple is best.’

‘But simple is boring,’ Chase complains.

Ignoring him, I continue to think out loud. ‘Elizabeth doesn’t like flash.’

Alice and Bell nod in tandem.

‘She is completely unimpressed by materialistic things.’

Thomas and Chase join their wives in nonverbal agreement, if grudgingly.

‘And above all,’ I think back to the letter she wrote me, ‘with everything Elizabeth’s been through, she just wants to know she’s loved.’

Mary raises her teacup to me and I hurry over to grab the extra fourth cup. Lifting it, pinky out, I clink it to hers. ‘You’re a genius.’

Looking very much like her father, one eyebrow disappears behind the top of her helmet. ‘Yes. I am.’

I’m about to get up and go do what I should’ve done much, much earlier, when Mike’s meow pauses me in my tracks.

Placing my teacup back on its plastic and heart-stickered saucer, I stretch my fist out towards Mike. He stares at me, as if assessing my worthiness, before touching his paw to it.

‘I’ll be damned,’ Chase breathes.

You know you’re stupidly in love when you find hope in advice from a nine-year-old dressed as an astronaut ballerina and reassurance in a fist-bump from a hairless pussy.

Liz

Fuck a duck.

I forgot how hard this stuff is to get off. Scrubbing harder, I rub the make-up remover wipe across my face, my skin feeling both abused and rejuvenated with each pass.

Back at home, my skin isn’t the only thing feeling rejuvenated. While I really wanted to give Camilla the benefit of the doubt, I wasn’t all that surprised when she laughed at my offer to let her choose to be a better person.

Tossing the completely covered wipe into the trash, I reach for another. There’s probably some metaphor to be found in my appearance—half my face make-up-free, half looking airbrushed and contoured to perfection, dressed in a plain white robe. Maybe something about the year I spent trying to decide between my past and present selves.

Laughing at myself, I attack the eye still caked with make-up, pausing when it hits me that my metaphorical thought wasn’t followed by Stanley’s voice in my head, berating me for having such new-age, hippie-like thoughts.

Progress.

Knock. Knock.

I start, poking my eye with my make-up-wipe-covered finger. ‘Jesus, fuck, my eye!’

‘ Merde .’

A hand touches my arm and I slap it away.

‘ Desculpa, meu amor . ’

‘Who the hell?’ Squeezing my injured eye shut, I try seeing out of my other eye, watering from the sting of smeared make-up.

‘It’s me, Felix.’

Even though his voice, language and blurry shape all add up to that being true, my brain is having trouble acknowledging that the man reaching for me is, in fact, Felix Jones.

One, because Felix is still working in California. And two, because there is no reason for the dark-brown-haired, darker-eyed celebrity with the sexy jawline – all details quickly coming into focus the more I blink – to be physically standing in the Moores’ New York City mansion.

Attempting to give me further reassurance, Felix gestures to himself. ‘It’s me, Johnny Douchebag.’

My laugh surprises me and I end up having a coughing fit while holding my eye, completing the whole hot-mess package I’ve got going on.

‘Should I get you some water?’

If I could roll my eyes, I would.

Reaching over to the faucet just a foot away, I turn on the tap, rinsing my face and taking a few cold sips of water. When I’ve cleaned off all the make-up and stalled as long as possible in an attempt to regroup, I turn off the water and reach for a?—

‘Here.’ Felix rips the hand towel off the hook and hands it to me.

Taking it, I pat my face dry while coming to terms with the fact that Felix Jones is very much standing in my bathroom now that my vision isn’t impeded by pain or make-up. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Your brothers invited me.’ He looks proud of this.

I lean to the side, searching for Chase and Thomas in my bedroom. No brothers. I frown at Felix. ‘They invited you to my bathroom?’ I speak slowly, trying to make sense of things as I talk.

‘No.’ He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘To the house.’

‘Okay.’ I draw out the word, feeling very much not okay.

‘This is probably why they were so hell-bent on the gesture.’

‘Who’s they?’ I toss the towel on the counter. ‘What gesture?’

‘A grand gesture.’

My heart thumps. ‘My brothers are forcing you to make a grand gesture?’

If the tile could crack and suck me under right now, that would be great.

‘No.’ Hands on my shoulders, he dips low to catch my eyes. ‘They were helping me think of a way to apologize. I wanted to…’ He stops, as if rethinking his words. ‘Well, no, I didn’t want to do what they suggested.’

‘What’d they suggest?’

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. ‘For starters, a Times Square billboard.’ He steps back, triumphantly pointing at my expression. ‘See. You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?’

I nod emphatically, just the thought of all those people knowing my business making me break out in a sweat.

Felix drops his hand, radiating self-satisfaction. ‘That’s why I agreed with Mary.’

‘My niece?’ I’m more confused by the minute.

‘Yes.’

By the look on his face, I can tell Mary added another man to her tally of those wrapped around her finger.

‘And she’s brilliant for someone being so enamored of your psychopath brother, Mike Hunt and King Dick.’

I snort, biting my lip to quell the echoing noise.

‘But now that I’m here—’ he looks around at the white marble bathroom, running a hand through his hair ‘—I’m realizing I don’t do so well without a script.’ His laugh suddenly unsure. ‘Maybe I should’ve written out the way to say I’m sorry before charging in here.’

‘Oh.’ Hope that I hadn’t known I had that his presence meant something more than I’m sorry squeezes at my chest. ‘So Amanda told you?’

‘Yes.’ He closes his eyes, as if replaying the moment. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am for blaming you.’

‘It’s okay, I know you were?—’

‘It is not okay, Elizabeth.’ Felix looks more serious than when his melons were hard. ‘I knew you didn’t – wouldn’t – do something like that, but I, I was just so scared. There so many things I didn’t know that made me?—’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t?—’

‘No. Don’t apologize. Please.’ He runs a hand through his hair, reminding me of the man I met at the bar. ‘You’ve done more than enough for me when I didn’t deserve it.’

‘I really didn’t do much.’

He skewers me with a look that rivals my older brother. ‘Just so you know, I wrote the check for the Branson Foundation.’

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

‘I 100 per cent appreciate what you did, but that money is yours.’

‘Not really.’

‘Yes. It is.’ He places his hands on my shoulders. ‘You are your mother’s daughter. Your brothers’ sister. That is money that your family, your real family, wants you to have. Money that I would rather you use to go meet the rest of your family, so you’ll have even more people to love you as much as you deserve to be loved. ’

I bite my lip, the pain and tang of soap helping me keep my emotions in check.

‘I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. That I said… that I said…’ He lets loose a string of Portuguese that I can only guess by his expression aren’t PG. ‘Elizabeth, I?—’

‘I accept your apology.’ I clear my throat, drowning out the imaginary lecture in my head from my brothers about giving in too easily. Because while my brothers may have my best interests at heart, having grown up with them, they are also the reason why I know just how dumb men can be. ‘And I like it when my friends call me Liz.’ Feeling awkward and hopeful once more, I reach my hand out between us. ‘I’m Liz.’

He stares at my outstretched hand, his eyes wide, the tension previously etched into his face softening. And when his brown eyes, lit with a smile, look into mine, my hope grows.

Hope that Felix and I can start over. Try again.

But instead of taking my hand, he lowers it. ‘I don’t want to be friends.’

Dropping my gaze, I stare at my toes embedded in the plush bathmat. ‘Ah, yeah. Um, sure. Of course.’ Blinking rapidly, I try and suppress the hurt and disappointment threatening to overwhelm me. ‘I mean, yeah, I totally get it. I?—’

Felix finger rests under my chin. ‘I can’t be friends with someone I love.’ With a gentle touch, he lifts my eyes to his. ‘ E eu amo-te , Liz. Anne. Elizabeth.’ He steps forward. ‘I love all of you.’

‘Wait.’ I hold up both hands, my palms resting on his chest as I struggle to process that piece of information. ‘You love me?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Felix’s brown eyes hold mine. ‘So much, meu cora??o .’

‘But…’ I glance at the mirror and, as if having caught his previous uncertainty like a common cold, my hands touch on my scrubbed face, before dropping to the bow of my robe’s belt, fe eling all the ways in which I am physically unprepared for this moment. ‘I’m not even dressed.’

His brows pinch together. ‘Does that matter?’

‘I don’t know.’ A hysterical laugh replaces the sob in my chest. ‘Does it?’

Laughing with me, a sexy chuckle rather than a hyena-like explosion, Felix brings my hands back to his chest. ‘You’re always lovable.’ His finger traces my jawline. ‘Your face, your body, but mostly—’ his fingertips graze my chest ‘—here.’

‘My boob?’ I blurt out, face heating.

Rolling his eyes, Felix taps again. ‘Your heart .’

‘Sorry.’ I stare at my hands, my palms pulsing from the hard beat of his heart. ‘I’ve never, uh, been confessed to.’ Admitting that sad fact does not help my embarrassment.

Instead of looking amused, his eyes darken. ‘That’s okay, meu tesouro . I’ll help you take your own advice.’

I meet his eyes, the heat in them warming my cold agitation. ‘ My advice?’

He leans down, his nearness hitching my next breath. ‘The night we first met.’

I frown, the first thing that comes to mind popping out of my mouth. ‘When I told you to go fuck yourself?’

He rolls his lips. ‘Before that.’ His finger nudges the neck of my robe wider.

‘When I told you not to use serendipitous as a pick-up…’ My thoughts scatter at his lips on my shoulder.

‘After that,’ he murmurs, making his way up my neck, his breath tickling my ear.

‘I don’t remember.’ The sleeves of my robe slide back as I raise my hands to hold on to his shoulders.

‘Sure you do.’ His hands slip under the edges of silk. ‘You said it makes perfect. ’

‘Perfect…’ I rake my fingers up and into his hair, tugging, not so gently.

‘Mmmhmmm.’

The pinch to my nipple runs through me like lightning. ‘ Practice .’

‘ Boa rapariga, meu amor .’ He rubs over the sting with his thumb. ‘ Sim , we need to practice.’

Our lips meet, our breath flowing into each other, our bodies aligning in that perfect way that sets my toes curling into the bathroom rug.

Lips, tongue, touch – it’s a great kiss. Our best yet.

If this is practice, mark me down as an A-plus student.

Fully invested in our practice, I can’t help but whimper when he pulls away before I’ve had my fill.

His eyes bore into mine, serious and hot and brimming with promised practice. ‘ Eu amo-te .’

I’m too dazed from desire to be embarrassed.

‘ Eu amo-te ,’ he repeats, his hands cupping my cheeks, his forehead dropping to rest on mine. ‘No matter what your name. No matter Mike Hunt. No matter how many times your brothers punch me, or how many times I deserve it—’ he pulls back, once more holding my eyes with his ‘—I love you.’

I swallow. Or try to. It’s kind of hard at the moment.

As if sensing that, he kisses first one eye, ‘I love you,’ then the other, ‘I love you.’

Moving across my body, Felix kisses my skin, inch by inch, each touch of his lips followed by the words, ‘I love you.’

Until I’m physically too riled up to feel emotionally insecure. Until the dampness between my bare thighs demands action rather than words. Until my hands find his shirt and dig in, dragging his face to mine.

‘I love you too, Douchebag.’