As for his brother? It wasn’t Loïc’s fault he was charming any more than it was Minnow’s or Rodrigo’s fault they were charmed by him. As a result, the mood in the house was often jovial and festive, with everyone sharing meals and exchanging witty banter, while Severin found himself withdrawing, unable to compete.
He pulled on a T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots then headed for the kitchen for something to eat before he headed out. Despite his emphatic hand gestures, all four of Minnow’s overgrown puppies followed him downstairs. He probably should have woken Rodrigo, since the buyer was meeting Severin at Ro’s house, but he wanted to be alone – other than the hooligans dragging their sleepy asses behind him, hoping for breakfast.
“You’re up early,” Loïc said entering the kitchen not long after Severin.
Severin rooted through the fridge, looking for meat. Minnow kept trying to make him eat a wider variety of foods, but he was a creature of habit.
“I have a bike to deliver,” Severin replied, pleased to find a plate of cooked bacon hidden behind a bin of chopped vegetables. The sight of the fried meat filled him with a weird affection. Like a plate of bacon was romantic or something? It was though, knowing she’d made it for him and left it where he would find it, with a subtle suggestion to make a good decision set in front of his inevitable bad decision.
He wanted to go back upstairs and make her choke on his cock.
Okay, so maybe their methods of showing affection were slightly unorthodox.
“I haven’t been to bed yet.” Loïc grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and bit into it. “Want me to follow you with the car? You’ll need a ride back.”
“Sure.” He could have called a driver easily enough, but this was better. This meant his brother wouldn’t be home chatting up the two people Severin couldn’t afford to lose. He also wouldn’t have to make conversation with yet another stranger.
They ate breakfast, fed the dogs, took them out to piss then headed for the garage. He wheeled the new bike out into the pale light of morning, and his brother whistled low in appreciation.
“I wish I had half your talent,” Loïc admitted. “I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”
“I’m more destructive than creative. At least you can play piano and make polite conversation.”
Loïc shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “Polite conversation is a handy skill, and yet if I died no one would give a shit. Not even our sisters. No one ever would have given a shit, except maybe our mother when I was making her money.”
Heavy stuff for first thing in the morning, but then Loïc hadn’t been to bed yet.
Compared to Loïc’s life, his had been a fairytale.
“At least when I die mes enfants won’t be waiting their turn to spit on my grave.”
“Do you have children?”
Loïc smiled strangely. “It was a possibility once, but she ended the pregnancy almost before it had begun. If I did have children maybe they’d hate me too, not that they’d know abuse by my hand. Still, I’d make a terrible father.”
Severin had entertained thoughts of someday having children with Minnow, but all things considered, it might be better if Rodrigo fathered them. That thought, though, brought an unexpected twist of envy.
Maybe not all of them would be Rodrigo’s.
And what about marrying Minnow in the first place? How would that work, leaving Rodrigo out of that part of things? This whole thing between them was complicated and messy – maybe even a bad idea. But then, maybe his life wasn’t meant to be easy.
On the ride to Rodrigo’s, the wind was less biting than he’d anticipated, and for the first time in a while he wondered what day it was. Other than knowing it was a drop-off day, he had no clue.
He keyed in the security code at the gate when they reached Ro’s, then left it open in anticipation of the buyer.
Loïc parked behind him in front of the house then got out of the Audi R8 he’d bought the week before. The car was plain black, with no fancy detailing. It wasn’t as flashy as Severin would have expected for a young man with so much money, but then, Loïc had been trained to seem classy despite what their mother had made him do, and those lessons and choices were engrained.
As he stretched, he saw Loïc already had a damned football in his hand. The kid was a glutton for punishment. Loïc launched the ball to him, and he caught the sloppy throw without thinking.
“Is that what we showed you?”
Loïc grimaced. “It looks so easy when you and Rodrigo do it. I try and it wobbles like a drunk.”
They threw the football for about ten minutes. Insults flew back and forth faster than the ball.
“Come on, pretty boy. Is that the best you can do?”
“It’s hardly fair for you to expect me to catch up in a few weeks. Not all of us had siblings to throw a ball with.”