Boy in the Club a boy & billionaire novel - Rachel Kane Page 0,57

into his chair.

“This is a resort. They have waiters. Dalton, can’t you summon someone? Clap your hands and make a waiter appear.”

My brother groans. “I’ll get you your damn drink myself.”

Except that suddenly I’m alone in the room with Finn.

“You did really well,” I tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

He gulps, he blushes, and he won’t meet my eyes. “I’m… Thank you.”

“I mean it. I would’ve put some ugly pipes out there, functional and horrible. But suddenly you’ve given us a new revenue stream, and a chance at some prestige. That’s sharp. It’s smart.”

Now he’s practically rolling his eyes. “Will you please stop? You’re embarrassing me.” His voice is this shaky quiet laugh.

“Hey,” I say, and before I realize what I’ve done, I’m reaching up, I’m touching his chin, lifting it, making him look me in the eye. “First rule of business is, learn to take credit for what you do. Don’t ever let anyone else take credit for your work.”

Now his brow scrunches. “I thought you said the first rule of business is that everybody else is an idiot.”

I nod. “In business, everyone wants to be first, even the rules. They’re all first rules. There are no second rules in business.”

When Dalton walks back in, I drop my hand from Finn’s face, like it was fire burning me. Shit! The last thing I needed was my brother to catch me at a vulnerable moment.

And sure enough, he paused for just one beat too log.

Fuck. Now he’s gonna want to talk about it.

But all he said was, “I’ve got drinks down in the garden. I didn’t know what you liked, Finn, but Noah’s having a mimosa.”

“I’m not turning down a mimosa,” says my assistant.

“Listen,” I say, before we head to the garden. “You heard that Noah offered for us to stay here the night. I know you’re not packed or anything, but—”

“I’d love to,” Finn says. Then he hesitates. “I mean, if that’s all right?”

I shrug. “I could use a day off. I’ll have my assistant cancel my calls.”

That makes him smile, and I’m grateful to see it, even though it hurts me to look at his lips, their fullness, their plumpness, the way they’re crying out to be kissed.

Does he even know what he’s doing to me?

I can’t help but notice the four lawn chairs are arranged in a patch of shade…or that Dalton and Noah are on the two outside chairs, leaving the two inner ones for me and Finn to sit next to one another. We’ve shed our jackets and ties, and I’ve got my shirt unbuttoned down to my breastbone. I can’t help but notice Finn’s shirt is buttoned up all the way. Hiding his scar, I suppose.

He really does think it’s an ugly thing. I see him touching it, where it stretches up to his face, when he thinks I don’t see. He’s so self-conscious. I wish I could tell him to stop worrying about it. His face is beautiful, and the scar doesn’t detract from that, it just gives him character.

Beautiful? Holy shit, Colby, cool your jets. Of all the men on earth, this is the one you’d better not think of as beautiful. The idea is to keep him safe, right?

Right.

Safe. From me, from every other man with grabby hands out there.

I normally take my scotch neat, but I’m grateful someone has thought to put a few ice cubes in it today. The late summer sun leaves me parched.

“I can’t believe you live in this place,” Finn is saying to Noah. “It has to be exciting, just waking up every day in this huge mansion.”

Noah groans. “You should have seen it when we first got here. You’d have thought it was haunted. Cobwebs everywhere. Possibly mice, although I never actually saw any. Definitely ghosts. Apparently there’s an Old Widow Woman who walks the halls late at night.”

I could see Finn shiver. He’s so susceptible. He really gets into whatever mood is around him. “I love it,” he says. “I’ll be on the lookout for her tonight.”

“You know,” says Dalton, “when you’re done with your drinks, you should show Finn the spring-house. It’s really the best thing about this place.”

“I will,” says Noah.

“Not you. I was talking to my little brother. He knows the layout as well as we do, by this point. What do you say, Colby, are you up to playing tour-guide?”

I don’t know what’s going on in Dalton’s head, but I get this sense he’s playing a game with me. A