Page 8 of Dominant

Chapter 2

Family

Alexander

I knew Mark was there as soon as the elevator doors opened.

Beyond the foyer, the living room blazed with lights. A blaring mechanical sound told me he was playing one of the violent video games he loved.

I hung up my coat, and then walked into the living room, dropping my suit jacket across one of the stools at the bar, and loosened my tie.

“I thought I bought you your own place to live,” I said dryly.

Mark paused the game and turned his blond head back to look at me with a crooked smile. Mark Gibson was my best friend, business partner, and, in every respect, my brother.

“What’s up, bro?” he grinned.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I was just looking forward to a nice, quiet night alone.”

He smirked at me and hopped over the back of the couch in a remarkably athletic move for a man in his late thirties. Crossing the room in long, easy strides, he clasped me into a tight hug. “Always good to see you too, you miserable old fart.” I breathed a laugh.

Slightly shorter and less muscular than I was, Mark nonetheless moved with the taut, coiled energy of a natural athlete. Not inclined to go to the gym, which he considered vain, Mark played sports fanatically - especially basketball. He loved working with a team to achieve a goal and always had excess adrenaline to burn off.

An impromptu visit from Mark wasn’t uncommon. Mark spent so much time at my penthouse, he was practically a roommate. He walked over to the bar to prepare us both drinks without having to ask. I liked scotch; he was a beer man. While he poured, I turned off the TV and took a seat on the couch.

“Hey!” he called. “Don’t turn the console off.”

“You’re not finishing this game tonight,” I warned him, but left it on. I knew he’d probably go back to playing it after I’d gone to sleep.

Although not technically my brother, Mark and I were the closest thing to family either of us had. We’d met in foster care when I was sixteen and he was fourteen. We spent two months in the same horrible family before they declared us both unmanageable and had us rehomed, but the experience had bonded us for life. At some point in that terrible household we had made an unspoken promise to look after each other forever. When we grew up, I had made it my responsibility to ensure that Mark had opportunities in life. As for Mark, he felt that his responsibility was to keep me tethered to humanity.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked, as he placed my drink on the coffee table and dropped back onto the couch.

He raised his beer bottle in a toast and I picked up my scotch glass, clinking it against his bottle.

“Checking up on you, brother. Haven’t seen you at work or the club, and you know I worry when you go silent.” Although he was smiling, I saw the tension and concern in his eyes.

I gave him a facetious smile. “Well, thanks for worrying. But I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah? Last time you said that, I found out you’d been in here for fourteen days and hadn’t slept for four.”

I did have a tendency to get lost in my work. Three or four months ago, seeing a deal through on a manufacturing plant that I knew would be very lucrative, I had run myself into the ground negotiating, managing, and troubleshooting every aspect of the complicated takeover. When Mark had finally barged into the penthouse and accused me of having been holed up for fourteen days, I didn’t even have any concept of how much time had passed. I had been obsessively hovering over my computer, monitoring my phone, and talking to lawyers and bankers to the exclusion of everything else. I had even lost ten pounds.

When you grow up the way Mark and I did, with nothing and nobody, survival becomes all-consuming. At some point in my life, I had clued in that money was the only way to be safe, and I’d been pursuing it relentlessly ever since. Mark was less driven, always managing to coast through life, but I was different. I needed to know that I could depend on myself.

“Well,” I swept my hand over my loosened tie, dress shirt, and wool slacks, “I guess you don’t have to worry. Because as you can see, I was out.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” he asked with a grin. “Trying out normative life?”

I shook my head. “I was at a business event.”

“Any talent?” he asked. It was a term we used to refer to girls when we were in our twenties, and I smiled.

“There was someone interesting, actually,” I admitted, thinking about the intriguing Miss Starck, “but she’s the daughter of my new business partners.”

“Oh shit!” Mark chortled. “Now that could be a very well-rounded partnership… the business and the daughter!”

“These are some partners we’re going to have to treat very well. They own the winery.”

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