(THEO) “I told you I needed that fucking transaction done last night, Warren,” I barked into the phone as Lennox and I approached the tennis courts at the club.
“If you cost me that deal, I swear I’ll get on a plane right now and fuck your wife.
Get off your ass and do what you’re fucking told.” “You can’t smoke here,” Lennox hissed, shooting apologetic looks at the handful of members lounging in their white tennis outfits.
I found my lighter in my blazer pocket, flicked it on, and lit the cigarette dangling from my lips.
The flame danced in the cool spring air as I took a long drag.
Warren sighed on the other end.
“Your father said—” “I don’t care what Teddy said.
This is my call.
Authorize the fucking buy-in,” I spoke over him, savoring the burn in my lungs.
“And tell him I’ll be back in the city by tomorrow.
I’ve got another meeting lined up with the Peterson group.” “Theo, this is moving very fast.
We should have the legal team review—” “The legal team reviews everything at a snail’s pace,” I cut him off, exhaling smoke into the air.
“I didn’t build this portfolio by moving slow.
Now, I’m having lunch with Lex’s soon-to-be bride.
When we talk again, I want the fucking numbers, not excuses.
Give my love to Ida.” I hung up without waiting for his reply.
Lennox pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Can you reel that in when Remy’s around?” “Reel what in?” “The threats.
The aggressive negotiations.
The—” He gestured vaguely at my cigarette.
I took another drag.
“Warren knows I’m gay.
He’s been managing my accounts for three years.
If he can’t handle a little passion, that’s his problem.” “Remy doesn’t know you like that,” Lennox said as we stepped through the gate and into the second court.
His jaw was tight, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with something more protective.
“She’s going to think you’re a monster.” “I am a monster, Lex.
We both know that.
She’s just too polite to say it out loud.” I flicked the cigarette away and adjusted my sunglasses as the afternoon sun hit my face.
I’d only met Remy a handful of times over the past year, Lennox had kept that part of his life separate from mine for obvious reasons.
Our family had a way of poisoning everything good.
But Lennox had somehow managed to escape the worst of our father’s influence.
He was genuinely kind, genuinely soft in a way that defied our genetics.
That made me feel like a lousy older brother, but better late than never, I supposed.
“There she is,” Lennox said, his entire body relaxing.
I spotted her first.
Lithe and elegant, her high ponytail spilled into a cascade of chestnut-brown waves that gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.
She was warming up on the court, moving with the kind of graceful confidence that only came from growing up with money and good breeding.
“Beautiful as always,” I admitted, watching as Lennox’s smile softened, his eyes full of that nauseating quiet affection that made me wonder how he could be so fucking happy about one person.
“She’s wonderful,” he said simply.
Remy served the ball with a sharp snap of her racket.
Her opponent, a man in his late twenties with the kind of tan that suggested he spent all his time at the club, scrambled to return it.
They volleyed back and forth, the soft thwack of the ball against the racket creating a rhythm.
“Your father’s thrilled about the match,” I said, watching them play.
“The picture-perfect little Kanes to succeed him.
He loves that shit, marriage, stability, the pillars of society.” “Dad’s changed,” Lennox said, but his voice didn’t sound convinced.
I turned to watch Remy’s opponent more closely, and that’s when I saw him.
He was waiting at the edge of the court, tennis ball in hand, watching Remy play.
At first, I thought he was just another club member, another trust-fund kid with nothing better to do on a spring afternoon.
But then he shifted his weight, and I caught the full line of him.
Tight white shorts clinging to muscular thighs.
A fitted tennis shirt that showed off the kind of athletic build you didn’t get by accident.
Messy waves of golden-blond hair that fell effortlessly over his brow, the kind of hair that begged to be touched, tousled, pulled.
My eyebrows rose appreciatively as I leaned on the fence.
“Who’s that?” “Don’t fucking go there,” Lennox snapped immediately.
I turned, surprised.
Always prim and proper, Lex seldom swore, especially not at the club where someone might overhear.
But his usual calm nature had been replaced by a flash of genuine irritation.
“That’s Remy’s little brother,” Lennox said, his voice low and sharp.
“And emphasis on little, Ash.” The man, boy?—straightened and turned toward us at the sound of Remy calling out.
A veritable Matthew, he had that effortless beauty that made people stare without meaning to.
He shared his sister’s straight nose and sharp cheekbones, but his fuller lips balanced his features perfectly, giving him something softer, more approachable than Remy’s cool elegance.
Athletic.
Built.
The kind of tight muscles that moved gracefully under his skin when he walked.
I appraised him over my sunglasses, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette butt away.
“Now he’s drop-dead fucking gorgeous.” Our gazes locked across the court.
His eyes were a striking pale blue, like shards of ice, sharp and clear and unsettlingly intelligent.
For a moment, neither of us looked away.
I saw something flicker across his face.
Lennox rushed to pick up the cigarette butt as I stood tall, watching them approach.
He was shorter than me, at least six inches, but that worked in my favor.
A strong little thing.
My favorite kind.
As they crossed the distance between us, I estimated I had easily a foot on him in height, maybe more in reach.
“Theron!” Remy held out her hand with a warm, practiced smile.
“So glad you could make it.” She was always the picture of perfect manners, effortlessly polite.
And every time we crossed paths, she looked genuinely happy to see me, despite the fact that I’d been an absent older brother figure for most of Lennox’s relationship with her.
If she ever felt dismissed by me, she never let it show.
I took her hand, clasping it in mine before brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
“The lovely Remy.
How many times have I asked you to call me Theo?
We’re practically family,” I said, laying on the charm in a way that felt almost genuine.
She grinned, but before she could respond, Lennox cut in.
“Don’t fall for it,” he warned, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning to pat her younger brother’s shoulder.
“Hey, T,” he said, his voice warm in a way it rarely was.
“Good to see you, man.” The younger man, Torren, glanced toward me again, softly rubbing his knuckles on the underside of his nose in what looked like a nervous gesture.
A tell.
I filed that away.
“Theron Kane,” I said, extending my hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He hesitated just a fraction of a second before grasping it.
His palm was warm.
His grip was firm, with the kind of strength that came from actual physical labor, not just gym time.
When our hands touched, I felt the slight tremor in his fingers, the almost imperceptible pull back before he committed to the handshake.
“Torren…Matthew,” he said quietly.
His voice was low and husky, probably made even more so by the exertion of playing.
He must sound like a fucking dream getting bent over.
My lips twisted into a smirk, and I felt Lennox’s elbow find its way to my ribs with pointed intention.
I held the handshake a beat too long, watching Torren’s pupils dilate slightly and watching the flush creep up his neck.
He was trying not to react, trying to keep his face neutral, but his body was betraying every thought in his head.
“We’re going to our usual table,” Lennox said quickly, his hand finding the small of my back in a grip that was definitely a warning.
“I’ll see you both up there in half an hour, okay?
We’ve got some things to catch up on.” “See you in a bit!” Remy called cheerfully as she tugged Torren back toward the court.
“Can’t wait,” I answered, my eyes still on Torren.
As they walked away, I watched the way he moved, controlled, and deliberate, trying not to look back at me.
But I could feel his attention on me anyway, the way you can always feel someone watching.
“Nineteen, Theo,” Lennox said quietly, his grip tightening on my jacket as he steered me toward the clubhouse.
“Just turned nineteen in December.
Do you understand what I’m saying?” I smiled.
“Legal is legal, Lex.” “Theo—” “And besides,” I said, looking back over my shoulder one last time as Torren took his position on the court, “he was looking at me like that the entire time.
Pretty sure that makes it a mutual interest.” Lennox didn’t respond.
But the tension radiating off him told me everything I needed to know.
He knew exactly what I was thinking.
And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop me.