Clarence’s voice was cautionary, but I didn’t give a damn whether or not Dylan wanted to talk.
I was tired of tiptoeing around his state of mind.
We were going to talk about what happened in London, and how it could affect Lancaster International in the future.
I shrugged out of my suit jacket as I strode toward the pool area.
I was hot.
I was tired because I hadn’t slept at all on my flight.
But mostly, I was annoyed because Dylan’s actions had kept me from pursuing a relationship with the most attractive, fascinating woman I’d met in…well…maybe in my entire life.
If he hadn’t created a huge scandal, I would have been at that meeting with Nicole, and I would have been every bit as mesmerized as I’d been sitting next to her on an airplane.
I would have hired her on the spot, and talked her into staying in London longer so we could discuss the details, right after I’d taken her to my place so I could fuck her until she begged for mercy.
Christ! I had to stop thinking about Nicole Ashworth.
I saw Dylan sprawled out on a large lounge chair before I even entered the outdoor pool area. The outdoor space was enclosed in glass on the three sides, so one could admire the view of downtown Los Angeles from the inside if they didn’t care to step outdoors.
The home sat high on a hill, with all of the lights of the city spread out in a seemingly endless area below.
It was an amazing sight at night, but I ignored the splendor of the view.
My mind was on one thing and one thing only: threatening my brother with his life if he didn’t get his shit together.
I pushed on the glass door that led into the pool area as I yanked at my tie. It was a warm night, but I wasn’t sure whether it was my state of dress or my irritation that made me feel like I was fucking suffocating.
“Dylan,” I growled as I strode to his lounge chair. “We need to talk.”
My identical twin opened one eye and groaned. “Sod off, Damian. I don’t need a lecture.”
He needed a lot more than simple censure, which was the only thing I’d been capable of doing…until right now. “You’re completely pissed,” I accused.
Dylan and I had shared more than a few drunken hours together when we were younger, before we’d had to grow up and face the multitude of responsibilities that had been left to us after our father had died.
“Not pissed, exactly,” Dylan said, his words slurred. “Just…relaxed.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been pretty damn relaxed for the last two years then.” I went to the bar, dropped ice in a glass, and poured myself a generous portion of a good Irish whiskey.
I didn’t normally drink to excess like Dylan obviously had tonight, but I knew I could use a good single malt as I tried to pull the reins in on my brother.
“Why do you have to be so stiff and buttoned up?” Dylan asked as he leisurely opened a second eye to look at me.
I tossed back a swig of my whiskey before I said dryly, “I’m British. It’s in our DNA.”
He lifted a brow as he sat up in the lounger. “We have very similar DNA, and I know how to loosen up.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course we had similar DNA. We were identical twins. And he wasn’t “loosened up.” Dylan was thoroughly pissed. Big difference there.
I took a deep breath, and let it out as I took a chair close to my brother’s lounger. “All of this has to stop, Dylan. The orgies. The eccentric behavior. Getting pissed until you have no idea what you’re doing. I realize that you didn’t exactly hang around in London to see the fallout of showing your bare ass in the middle of an orgy, but it was front-page tabloid news. You hurt Mum, and the entire country now thinks it’s me, not you, who needs multiple sex partners. What do you think some of our worldwide partners are going to think, the ones who are really buttoned up and conservative?”
Dylan shook his head as he argued, “That was all a setup, Damian. I swear. One of those women slipped me something in my drink, and then took me somewhere. I had no idea what I was doing. Hell, I don’t even think I had sex with any of them. And I sure as hell never claimed to be you.”
My brows