Page 13 of In the Heir (Westerly Billionaire 1)
Monica shrugged. “I’m confused. Other women can know about me, but you don’t want your brother to?”
“Other women?” This is too much. “Excuse us, Monica. I need a moment with Spencer.”
Spencer looked uncertain. “Monica, I’ll get you the notes later. Wait in my car.”
“Sure.” Monica laughed. “Whatever.” She slid into the car, but before the door closed, she said, “When you’re married, would you mind if he and I—”
Spencer shut the door before she finished. He leaned against the side of the car and folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve never come here, Brett. What do you want?”
“You could start with an explanation.”
The look he gave Brett was cold and steely. “The thing is, I don’t owe you one. How I live my life is none of your business.”
Brett counted to ten and pocketed his hands. Spencer was stonewalling him on a personal level, so Brett shifted automatically to handling it as he would any difficult negotiation: he plowed ahead. “Are you still getting married this weekend?”
After a brief pause, Spencer shook his head. “The paperwork is more time-consuming than we had anticipated. We’re putting it off for a couple of weeks.”
Thank God. He almost called Spencer out on what he was actually spending his time on, or rather who, but he didn’t. He was willing to keep some thoughts to himself if it got him what he wanted in the end. And what he wanted was for Spencer to see that Alisha deserved to be treated better. “I may not have been receptive to the idea of Alisha when you first said you were marrying her, but if you’re going to do this, you should do it right.”
“Relationship advice from you? Am I supposed to take this seriously?”
“You’re supposed to be the kind of man who gives a shit about his fiancée.”
Spencer straightened. “You don’t know anything about me or Alisha. I don’t need your money or your advice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this conversation is over.”
Brett stepped closer to him until they were in a nose-to-nose standoff. The truth was obvious, but Brett wanted to hear it voiced. “You’re better than this, Spencer. You know it, and so do I. What you’re doing today shows a lack of respect for whatever you have with Alisha. You’re not fucking invisible. People see what you do. Those same people will go back and say things to her. Ask yourself how that will be for her. You say you love her, but then you do something that is guaranteed to hurt her. If her feelings don’t matter, why the hell are you marrying her?”
Spencer looked away first, and Brett knew he had been heard. That’s all he could do. He wouldn’t tell Spencer not to marry her. He sure as hell wasn’t going to encourage him to do it, either. Hopefully, what he said woke his brother up to the fact that actions had consequences.
Brett started to walk away, but stopped and turned back. How could he cheat on Alisha? Monica was pretty, but Alisha . . . she was the real deal. Beautiful inside and out. If he started comparing the two, Brett was certain his feelings for Alisha would quickly become apparent. And he made a valid point earlier. “This shouldn’t have been my first time here. I should have gone with you when you were house hunting.”
A funny expression spread across Spencer’s face. “Are you okay?”
In the past, Brett would have assured him that he was. Westerlys didn’t talk about their feelings. His mother’s words came back to him, though. If Spencer’s goal really was to emulate him, he needed to know that it wasn’t all gold coins and roses. How different might everyone’s life have been had his father let his mother in instead of walling her out. Perceived impossibilities. They were simply obstacles he smashed through in business. The distance between us appears insurmountable.
But is it?
One systemic policy modification can change the course of a company.
He’d often told his directors that clear goals are the most powerful. Vision inspires effort. Focused vision inspires focused effort, which produces success.
Our family has unhealthy patterns.
They stop now.
No walls. No lies.
“You asked me why I came. I’m here because I care about you. I want things to work out for you and for your company. And if you need help, I’m always only a phone call away.” He expelled a harsh breath. “But you need to know that Alisha is an amazing woman. She’s intelligent, caring, and beautiful. If you don’t treat her well, you’ll lose her to someone who will. Dad learned that the hard way.”
With that, Brett walked away. He’d said his piece. What happened next was up to Spencer.
Chapter Seven
On Saturday morning, Alisha put the thermometer on the counter near the bathroom sink and looked at herself in the mirror. This is what I get for lying about being sick. Taking her temperature hadn’t been necessary. She shivered with cold, her face flushed, and her eyes glazed from fever.
She downed a couple of Tylenol and dragged her feet back to bed.
I’ll sleep it off and be fine by Monday morning.
Her phone beeped with a text. She groaned and rolled over to read it. Spencer wanted to talk. She dropped the phone beside her without answering him. He was fine not talking last week. He can wait another day.
Still on top of her bedsheets, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Her phone beeped again. Rachelle wanted to know if she wanted to go to breakfast. Alisha typed back that she was sick.
Again?!? I’m worried about you. I’m coming over.
Alisha swore. She felt miserable. If Rachelle came over, Alisha would have to get up and try to look less like she wanted to die. Not because Rachelle wouldn’t allow her friend to wallow, but because Alisha wouldn’t want to put the weight of how she felt onto her.
Alisha had learned at a young age to hide her pain, smile when she wanted to cry, and put her feelings aside for others. She didn’t want to do that today. All she wanted to do was stay in her pajamas, leave her bed only to use the bathroom, and not think or worry about another person until Monday. She texted back. Please don’t. I just want to crash and sleep it off.
If Rachelle was put off by her blunt response, Alisha was prepared to apologize for it. Monday. She closed her eyes and instantly fell back asleep.
She woke to a pounding headache and the sound of her doorbell ringing over and over. At first she pulled a pillow over her head, but the ringing didn’t stop. Swearing, she stumbled out of bed to answer it. She felt cold and hated whoever had ended the reprieve she’d found in sleep. She looked out the peephole in the front door.
There, in a gray polo shirt and dark slacks was—Bre
tt?
Shit.
If I don’t answer the door, will he go away?
“Alisha, open the door.”
“I can’t,” she said lamely. “I’m contagious. I don’t want to give it to anyone.”
“If you’re actually ill this time, you need to open the door. How sick are you?”
Alisha raised a hand to her throbbing forehead. Too sick for this. “Thank you for checking on me, but I’m fine.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Go away, Brett.”
“Show me how sick you are, and I will.”
Alisha straightened. “Oh, for God’s sake.” If seeing her in her full germ-infested glory would get him to leave, then fine. Let him look. She swung the door open and put an arm up. “I’m fine. See?”
He looked her over from head to toe and frowned. “You look awful.”
She would have glared at him if she’d had the energy. “That’s sweet, but there’s no need to heap on the compliments.”
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m serious. You’re definitely sick.”
She waved a hand at him. “Thank you, Doctor Obvious.”
He raised a hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m aware of that, too.” She pushed his hand away. “Which is why I’m home sleeping it off.”
“Alone?”
Irritated that he wouldn’t leave, she snapped, “Yes, my therapeutic orgy ended an hour ago, and they all went home.”
His smile didn’t help her mood. “I’ll have to try that the next time I’m sick.” His smile faded. “I thought Spencer might be here. Does he know you’re sick?”
Alisha shook her head and turned away. Pretending was beyond her at the moment. “I can’t do this right now. Could you let yourself out and lock the door behind you, please?” She trudged back to her bed and collapsed, facedown, on top of it.
A few minutes later, Brett’s voice pulled her back awake. “Roll over.”
Alisha did and opened her eyes. The glass of water he held out to her was the solution to the dry mouth she hadn’t realized she was suffering from. She pushed herself up to a seated position and sipped it. “Thanks.”
