Tessa Blake [Blake - Taken By Him (The Billionaire Black Sheep Book 2)

2019 Tessa Blake

Happy Ever After, September 2019

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, institutions, news anchors, or bad boy billionaires is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form, by any means electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system currently in use or yet to be devised.

This ebook is licensed for your personal use and may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase a copy for that person. If you did not purchase this book, or it was not purchased for your use, then you have an unauthorized copy. Please go to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting my hard work and copyright.

I hail a cab on Rivington and give the driver Rafes address. Its been a hell of a day, and I really just want about a gallon of water and eight hours of sleep, but I need to fill him in on my exchange with Brigitte.

The verbal one, that is. I think Ill just keep the rest of what we exchanged to myself for now.

Thenunless hes got some other fucking mess for me to clean up or problem for me to manageI can head back to the Baccarat.

And jack off on their expensive sheets.

I cant believe I said that to her. I may not have my brothers preternatural facility with women, but Im generally a little more fucking smooth than that. But she rendered me insensible. I look out the window as we cruise uptown, thinking about the way she tasted, the way her body felt against mine.

I honestly think I could have convinced her to let me in. She wanted to, deep down, no matter how much she might have convinced herself she didnt.

But shed also been drinking. Not a ton but enough. Just enough that I wouldnt have been able to look at myself tomorrow.

At Rafes, I pay the cabbie and stand, just looking at the building, as he drives off. They call this stretch of Fifth Avenue Millionaires RowCentral Park views dont come cheap, after all. My brother is comfortable in this place. He belongs here.

I dont. I honestly never have. My parents gave me an apartment in a building one block south of here when I graduated from college; I sold it not long after, and used the money to move to California. It was the right choice. And Ive built something there, something that matters. Something that will outlive me.

I didnt feel the need to slap my last name on it, either.

I head inside and nod to the doorman. He picks up the building phone as I cross to the elevators, and when I get to the 15th floor, Rafe is standing at his open door.

He looks like hell, with bags under his eyes that you could smuggle drugs in and his hair sticking up all over as if hes been raking his fingers through it. Im not sure what hes been up to since we parted ways at the warehouse this afternoon, but Im going to guess it involved a lot of wallowing in self-pity and the liberal application of alcohol.

I wasnt expecting you, he says. The sibilants are just slushy enough to tell me that hes set his feet firmly on the path to drunk.

Just wanted to catch you up on my evening. I move past him, down the hall into his living room, and take in the pizza going cold on the coffee table, the empty bottle of Scotch. The television is blaring; onscreen, some idiot in a tight black t-shirt is talking about the ghost of a prostitute? What?

Rafe heads over to the bar and pulls another bottle of Scotch from the cabinet underneath. You want? he asks, waving it in my general direction.

I would actually like some water, I say, still trying to make sense of the television. What are you watching?

Ghost Adventures. He pulls a bottle of water out of the minifridge. Im out of ice.

Thats fine. Ghost Adventures?

Its never mind. Its stupid.

I can see that.

He uses the remote to turn it off. So what did you want to catch me up on?

I just spent the evening with Brigitte.

I sit on the couch and open my bottle of water. He takes a seat in one of the enormous overstuffed chairs, looking at me quizzically.

You mean Ainsleys friend?

No, Brigitte Bardot, I say. Of course I mean Ainsleys friend.

But why? We talked about this

Yeah, we talked about this at the warehouse, and you said not to worry about it. But I had to ask myself, is Rafe right about this? I put my feet up on the coffee table and drink some water. I mean, is Rafe really firing on all cylinders right now?

Of course I am.

Or is he too busy living in an Elliott Smith song, moping around waiting for a girl to call him and mend his broken heart?

Fuck off, he says, but theres no fire in it.

I assume, from this scene Ive stumbled on, that she hasnt called.

Shes not going to call.

Brigitte seems quite certain that she will, but Im keeping entirely out of this. She will or she wont, and giving him hopefalse or warrantedisnt going to change anything, and could possibly make things worse. I keep my lips zipped on that one.

Maybe she will, maybe she wont. But whether she does or not, I figured someone needed to get a sense of what sort of shape theyre in, mentally, after last night.

What does that mean?

It means that I wanted to talk to her. Make sure she knows how to keep her mouth shutand that she should.

I think about Brigittes mouth, then push the thought away.

I dont want her telling Ainsley you threatened her

Well, for one thing, I didnt threaten her. I sit up, set my water on the table, and turn to face him. And as for whatevers going on with you and Ainsley, I actually dont care about that. You can spend all your energy thinking about your girlfriend if you want, but if youre gonna do that, someone has to think about keeping you out of fucking jail.

He raises his hands, palms out, and nods. Sorry. Youre right. What did she say?

That she would keep her mouth shut.

Did you believe her?

You know, I did. I shrug. Ive been wrong about people before, but she seems solid. She really cares about Ainsley, and shes pretty sure hurting you would hurt Ainsley, which she obviously would never do.

I dont think Ainsley cares one way or the other, he says bleakly.

Thats between you two. I am absolutely not going to sit here and nurse my brothers broken heart. And honestly, when he sobers up, he wouldnt thank me for having done so. Some things a guy just has to go through alone. What I can say is, I dont think either of them plans to run to the cops, and thats my part of the situation handled, as far as Im concerned.

So what now? Back to Malibu? He doesnt exactly sneer it, but its clear Rafe still considers my lifewell, the life he thinks I havebeneath him.

I shrug again, and stand to leave. I think Ill probably stick a few more days, just in case something else goes sideways. Then, yeah, back to the beach, I guess. And, of course, Ive got that date with Brigitte tomorrow.

But I dont mention that. Thats not for him, not yet.

As I close Rafes door behind me, I think about her mouth again, the way it sighed open against mine. Think about the way every curve of her body molded to mine like she was made for me.

Yeah. Thats not for anyone but me to think about.