Page 5 of Beautiful Sin
Jaxson’s heart stuttered at the casual observation. Was he that transparent? Had Wei noticed the way his gaze lingered too long on Lan? The way he found excuses to touch him—a hand on his shoulder, fingers ruffling his hair—gestures that should have been brotherly but felt like something else entirely.
“Your concern is touching,” Jaxson said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Did you workshop these zingers while practicingyour coffee art, or do they come naturally with that premium roast of yours?”
“Please.” Wei’s eyes danced with unholy amusement. “I’m saving my best material for when you finally realize you’re—” He cut himself off, smile turning mysterious. “Well, that’s a show I want front row seats for.”
Jaxson shook his head, fighting both irritation and fondness as he watched Wei take another self-satisfied sip of his precious coffee. Before he could formulate a suitably cutting response, Colt’s practical voice cut through the morning air.
“Speaking of shows, is Xander up yet?”
Jaxson welcomed the change of subject, glancing at the hallway where silence reigned supreme. “Still in bed.”
“He didn’t come home until four this morning,” Wei chimed in. “From the sound of it, he was either reenactingSwan Lakein his bedroom or fighting ninjas. Hard to tell with these walls.” He tapped his fingers against his mug, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Though I did hear him mumbling something in his sleep when I passed his room. Sounded suspiciously like someone’s name.”
Colt’s knife scraped against his plate, the sound sharp in the morning quiet. “He really should stop working at that bar,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Sure, he’s raking in tips like a poker champ on a hot streak, but living like a vampire can’t be good for him.”
Jaxson felt a flicker of curiosity at Wei’s implication, quickly followed by an unexpected pang of something darker. Who exactly was Xander dreaming about? The thought of Xander with some nameless stranger from the bar shouldn’t bother him, yet somehow it did. Perhaps because Xander’s romantic escapades inevitably meant more noise in their already cramped apartment.
“And studying on top of it,” Wei added, watching Jaxson’s reaction with those too-perceptive eyes. “I don’t know howhe manages without turning into a walking energy drink advertisement.”
Jaxson shrugged, pushing aside his unexplained discomfort. “It’s not so hard once you’re used to it.” The memory of his own grueling schedule after their parents died flashed through his mind—the bone-deep exhaustion, the constant worry about keeping the family together, the late nights poring over legal documents to ensure they could keep the apartment. He remembered how Lan would wait up for him sometimes, curled up on the couch like a small, worried cat, those dark eyes following his movements as if afraid Jaxson might disappear too.
“So says the patriarch of our humble abode.” Colt’s voice dripped with dry humor as he precisely cut another triangle of French toast. “We know you’ve got your work ethic set to ‘superhuman,’ Jaxson, but that doesn’t mean Xander’s signed up for the same program. Besides, we’re not exactly scrounging for pennies now that we’ve sent the mortgage off with a gold watch and a retirement party.”
The sunlight filtering through their ancient curtains caught on Colt’s damp hair, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. Jaxson sometimes forgot how much his brother had grown up—no longer the sullen teenager who’d resented Jaxson’s authority, but a man with his own career and ambitions. The thought was both comforting and vaguely unsettling, a reminder that time was marching on, that their family dynamic was shifting in subtle ways he couldn’t quite control.
“Perhaps a family conference is in order when Sleeping Beauty graces us with his presence?” Wei suggested, dark eyes twinkling as he swirled his precious coffee. “A suggestion to trim his work hours seems timely, considering his academic ventures are ramping up to ‘crunch time.’”
“I’ll have a word with him,” Jaxson agreed, already mentally preparing his ‘responsible older brother’ speech. The one that always made him feel simultaneously ancient and completely unqualified, like he was playing a role in a play he’d never rehearsed for.
As if summoned by their conspiracy of concern, Xander materialized in the doorway. His golden-blond hair performed an impressive impersonation of a bird’s nest after a hurricane, while his sculpted physique somehow managed to make exhaustion look like a fashion statement. The old t-shirt he wore had clearly given up trying to contain his shoulders and was now just along for the ride, revealing a strip of tanned skin at his waist that spoke of afternoons spent at the campus gym rather than in the library.
“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough as gravel but still carrying that hint of charm that probably doubled his tips. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, performed a quick sweep of the kitchen before settling on the coffee pot like it held the secrets to eternal youth.
Wei’s eyebrow arched. “You’re up early for someone who moonlights as a professional night owl. Dream something interesting?” The question seemed innocent enough, but the knowing glint in Wei’s eyes suggested otherwise.
Xander’s movements faltered for a fraction of a second, his fingers tightening on the coffee pot handle. “Nothing worth sharing,” he replied, a hint of color touching his cheeks that had nothing to do with the kitchen’s warmth. He collapsed into his chair with the graceful desperation of a man who’d been vertical for far too long. “Hunger beat sleep in a cage match,” he yawned, reaching for the nearest edible item. “Planning a rematch after breakfast.”
“Solid life choices,” Colt approved, dabbing his mouth with his napkin like he was dining at the Ritz rather than theirscratched kitchen table. The morning light caught on his cheekbones, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face. It was easy to forget sometimes that Colt was objectively beautiful—easy because he was just Colt, the perfectionist brother who folded his socks and alphabetized his books.
Jaxson waited until Xander had inhaled half his breakfast before launching Operation Intervention. “Xander, we need to talk about your job at the bar.” He adopted his real estate negotiation voice, the one that balanced authority with understanding—a tone he’d perfected over years of being the family’s de facto parent.
Xander paused mid-chew, looking remarkably alert for someone who’d probably seen more sunrises from the wrong end lately. “Let me guess—you want me to either quit or dial it back?” His honey-colored eyes held a flash of defiance that reminded Jaxson of their teenage years, of Xander’s quiet but determined rebellion against being the “middle child.”
“Reducing hours would be ideal,” Jaxson said, choosing his words carefully. “Especially if it means fewer dawn patrols. But if you wanted to explore other employment opportunities…” He let the suggestion hang in the air, an offering rather than a command.
Xander held up a hand, somehow managing to make the gesture both respectful and dismissive. “I’ll talk to my boss about cutting back the hours.” He paused, a flash of determination breaking through his sleepy demeanor. “But I’m keeping the job. There’s something satisfying about earning money without having to sell my soul to corporate America. Yet.” His lips curved into a small smile. “Besides, the tips are excellent, and the… scenery isn’t bad either.”
Something in his tone made Jaxson wonder exactly what kind of “scenery” Xander was referring to. Or who. The bar was popular with college students—Lan’s age group. The thoughtof Xander surrounded by attractive young people, flirting and charming his way to better tips, created an uncomfortable knot in Jaxson’s stomach that he chose not to examine too closely.
Wei snorted into his coffee, the sound drawing Jaxson back to the present. “Says the man who sells his sleep schedule to drunk college students instead.” His dark eyes moved between Xander and Jaxson, cataloging their expressions with that unnerving perceptiveness that sometimes made Jaxson wonder if Wei could actually read minds.
Colt’s fork paused midair, laden with a precisely balanced stack of scrambled eggs. “Didn’t you say yesterday you’ve got that meeting with a client this afternoon?” he asked Jaxson, his tone casual, though his eyes were sharp.
Jaxson nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “The client’s itching to inspect a few apartments she’s taken a shine to.” He nursed his coffee like it held the secrets to Manhattan real estate, the ceramic warm against his palms.
“What corner of concrete paradise are they eyeing?” Wei inquired, leaning back in his chair with feline grace.
“Upper East Side.” The words carried weight in their household, where finances were always a carefully balanced equation.
