Page 3 of The Spare
He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t my concern. The last couple of years had been hard on him with Marcus being gone so often. I didn’t want to make it worse. Marcus was his only remaining family member after their parents passed a decade ago. The brothers recovered in their own ways, but it was a wound that Marcus’s absence may have reopened.
After their parents’ death, Xander spent his time avoiding commitments, and Marcus spent his time avoiding any feeling at all. Over time, they both seemed to get back to some degree of normal, but the last two years had flipped that stability on its head.
“Besides,” he continued, “my brother has a private jet; you can't rid yourself of me by being in London for a few months.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Oh.” He perked up. “The team you hired has successfully wrapped an Aston Martin in plastic wrap.”
Why was he so happy that I won? His smile indicated that I’d been bested. “Henry’s,” he finished.
Dammit. I forgot my brother was planning to drive down today as well. If I weren’t planning this gala, I would have been there to oversee my retaliatory fire.
“Checkmate, Amari.” He was practically giggling. “Better luck next time?”
“Fine.” I hated losing. “You win this round.”
He bared his teeth in a smug grin. “You’re losing your touch.”
CHAPTER2
Marcus
Isat at the kitchen island in my Philadelphia penthouse. I bought it years ago and never stayed in it. The only time it ever got any use was when Henry or Xander visited Philly. Everyone lived and worked in Manhattan now, so there wasn’t much use for it outside of being a decent investment. I held onto it for that reason.
The bright white marble reflected the sun's rays throughout the room. I spent an hour trying to get some work done. Instead, my mind replayed seeing Sloan this morning. The run was meant to clear my head.
I could have ignored her; it would have been easy enough. She hadn’t seen me. But she was Xander’s best friend, and Henry’s sister.
Neither of those reasons was why I stopped. I stopped because I couldn’t seem to break the magnetic pull she had on me.
She was always effortlessly elegant. A navy-colored wool coat wrapped tightly against her body, and her hair was pulled into a neat bun, a few rebellious strands framing her face. Her black tights pulled my attention to her alluring long legs as she adorably fidgeted with her folders.
By that point, I was staring. So, I gave in to temptation and stopped. It was oddly gratifying to say her name out loud.
Our interaction was short, but enough to defeat the purpose of the run.
I shook off the memory. My coffee grew cold as my laptop went into sleep mode again. Instead of the work I intended to do, I turned my phone around in my hand. I had texted my brother earlier, but he still hadn’t responded.
Refilling the coffee cup and regaining some focus, I reviewed the strategy for our next acquisition—Gant Pharmaceuticals. The goal was to finish this deal as soon as possible. Acquire, destroy, and move on.
Another email confirmed that my company’s bid to acquire Ellory Incorporated failed. It was acquired by Amari Global, the Amari family’s company, just as I had planned.
Sutton Industries, my company, was largely born of luck. One very lucrative sale meant I had the chance to recreate the success Rishi Amari, Henry and Sloan’s grandfather, had decades before.
I took it.
That was probably the first time I felt deserving of the praise Rishi lavished on me. I was always very cognizant that Henry, my oldest friend and Rishi’s heir, was never graced with such approval. It was compounded further by his captious father and the great expectations of being the Amari heir.
My success had never driven a wedge between us, nor did the competition we engaged in between our two companies. Our friendship had always trumped everything else—we were lucky in that respect—but I had a sinking feeling that luck was going to run out soon.
* * *
Another couple of hours passed, and still no response from my brother.
The sound of keys at the door pulled me from my thoughts. A smile stretched across my face when I saw my little brother walking into the entryway.
“Xander.” Something about seeing him after so long reminded me of when we were kids. When our parents were still alive, before we’d ever met the Amaris.
