My Grumpy Billionaire

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Griffin

Technically, I should be driving to Emmett’s place for a brunch my brothers and I have from time to time, but he’s in no condition to host anything after an ugly breakup.

So Sebastian’s holding it at the Aylster Residence. There are three Residence units at the Aylster Hotel, and Sebastian has one that he uses when he’s in town. He splits his time between L.A., where Sebastian Jewelry’s West Coast headquarters is, and Northern Virginia, where the company’s main headquarters and his grandmother are.

I give my Prius to the valet at the separate private entrance to the Residence. The elevator is waiting in the opulent lobby. On a table near the elevator is a vase full of tulips, some purple and some pink. The former reminds me of Purple Girl’s hair, and the latter reminds me of Sierra—and those damn sheets and the pink between her legs in my fantasy.

Good thing I was quiet. It’s hot as hell that she felt something for me—enough that she touched herself thinking about me.

An impressive spider, indeed.

My blood starts to heat, but I dismiss the whole line of thought. Brunch with my brothers isn’t the place to mull that over.

The elevator dumps me at the entrance to Sebastian’s unit. I open another door and step inside a huge living room. The furnishings are modern minimalist, ivory accented with dark teak. Lot of buttery leather, and several watercolor paintings of green mountains on the walls. The floor is pale champagne marble, buffed to a glossy sheen. A few geometric-patterned rugs add to the ambiance. But they can call it a “residence” all they like. No matter how carefully decorated and appointed, it’s obvious the place isn’t a real home.

The huge dining room is already set up with catered food from the Aylster’s kitchen. Although the Residence comes with a full kitchen, nobody wants to be poisoned by Sebastian’s cooking.

Everyone except Emmett is already seated with his food and drinks. Nicholas notices me and lifts a flute with a smile.

“Hey, there, professor!” he calls out cheerily.

I nod in greeting. “Hey back.”

“Want some?” He gestures at an open bottle of Dom chilling in an ice bucket.

“Yes.”

He pours me some and hands me a glass. The youngest of us, he invests and owns a lot of businesses and keeps himself busy. Everyone calls him Nicholas because his mother goes by Nick or Nikki.

I take the empty chair next to him. “Thanks.” I have a sip and soak in the buttery aftertaste of the cool, bubbly wine. It’s hard for a brunch to go wrong when it’s served with Dom.

“So, how’s your love life?” he asks.

My brothers’ gazes swing in my direction. Other than Emmett, I’m the only one supposedly in a relationship.

“There is no love life. It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“Well, that sucks,” Noah says.

“She’s really pretty,” Nicholas says.

“You saw the video?” He’s generally too busy to look at social media junk.

“Noah forwarded it,” Grant says with an easy grin. “He’s our own private NSA.”

I grunt, then grab some eggs and pancakes. As I pour syrup over them, I wonder what Sierra’s doing with her best friend.

The door opens again. I tilt my head and blink in surprise as Emmett walks in.

Outwardly, he’s fine. He’s lost a bit of weight, but when he’s busy, he tends to skip meals, so that isn’t unusual. His hair is neatly styled so it lies perfectly on his skull. The pale blue T-shirt and shorts appear casual, but they’re from a boutique in Milan, and look pricey. As he walks past me, I can smell the soap from a fresh shower. He doesn’t smell like alcohol. Or any other vice.

But then, overindulging in substances isn’t how he copes.

And I know he’s coping after that breakup with one of his associates. His eyes are slightly bloodshot—a sign he isn’t sleeping well—but he has the grim look of a man determined to live well, no matter what.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d drop by,” Sebastian says.