Hotshot (The Bennett Brothers 1)

Nick comes around the corner and lifts Gail out of her chair in a bear hug. She’s so tiny in his arms, and I laugh watching her smacking him away. He puts her down and says a few words, making her blush.

Then he turns to face me, and all laughter stops.

His eyes land on mine with a narrow gaze, and his face transforms into a look only described as furious rage. Gone is the playful persona he gave Gail.

I know this look. This is personal. This is an anger that is hostile to the point of craze. It clicks.

This is about Bizzy.

I get up to meet him, ready for anything as he stalks into my office, barreling toward me. I barely register his fist before it connects with my jaw, and I’m slammed into the wall.

Fighter instinct kicks in and I shove him back, able to block his next punch. We’re the same height, but he’s got about twenty pounds of muscle on me and I feel it in his struggle as I maneuver his arm behind him and shuffle us around.

No words are exchanged as we hustle, causing glass, furniture, and pictures to fall and crush around us. Finally, I get the upper hand and propel him face first into the wall.

He shakes against me, fury radiating off his body.

I should have expected this. If we weren’t in my office, I’d let him go and unleash his anger. I deserve it.

“You going to fucking calm down?” I growl in his ear.

“Not a chance. I want to fuck you up, brother or not. You don’t have any idea of the damage you’ve done, do you? I trusted you.”

I let him go and stumble back, the pain in my chest searing hotter than the ache in my jaw where he clocked me.

My legs give out, and I drop to the sofa, my head in my hands. “What happened? Is she okay?”

He remains quiet; the only sound in the room is his panting. When I finally gather the courage to face him, he’s stone still, his arms crossed across his chest, staring at me with a mixture of hatred and disgust.

“She’s not okay, even though she’s doing a damn good job of faking it. Did you know about her anxiety of not having children?”

I nod shamefully.

“I’m not kidding, Crenshaw. If you weren’t my brother and this was happening to her, I’d probably kill you. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“And I did?” I shout then glance to notice Gail activated the privacy blinds. Thank God for Gail.

“You know the golden rule; it’s written in all your contracts. Hell, I even got the ‘talk’ when I was fifteen about watching where you slip your dick. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I told you last week, I wasn’t. I was drunk. Don’t you think I’ve regretted the decision? No one is as disappointed as me.”

“I beg to differ. There’s a wounded and crushed woman currently trying to come to terms with this.”

“What exactly happened, Nick? You were mad last week, but you listened to me. Why are you ready to tear my head off?”

“Because last week I was in shock, ready to believe it was a mistake. But after having lunch today with Bizzy, I saw what this is doing to her.”

“What about me? Have you thought about me?” This is the first time since this began that I’ve wanted any sympathy. In a mistake like this, sympathy isn’t usually deserved, but I find myself craving it. Everything I ever wanted was within reach, and I fucked it up. Even if God gives me a miracle and the baby isn’t mine, Bizzy will never forget this.

He drops his arms and shoulders and rakes his eyes over my face, seeming to let go of some of his anger. He walks over to the chair and sits closest to me. We don’t speak, but the question hangs in the air.

His throat clears, and I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“Boys, are you done with your wrestling match?”

Both our heads swivel to see Gail leaning in my door, extremely pissed off as she surveys the damage to my office.

“Because if you are, Crenshaw has a call.”