Page 30 of Old Money

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Brooks says to me once the room has filled with chatter again. “Carrington, the funerals. It was you.”

I take a bite of my cheesecake.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Come on, Julian,” he pushes.

“Let it go, Brooks,” Keaton chimes in, glaring at him. Brooks clears his throat and leans back. Keaton gets it. Brooks…he’s not there yet. He’s the baby. My dad was in his late forties when Brooks was born. He was spoiled—even more than Keaton and I had been—and coddled in so many ways. It wasn’t until these last few years that Cato realized the monster he had created and began teaching Brooks some life lessons on hard work.

Finally, when the dessert plates have been collected, my brothers and I give each otherthe lookas we all text our drivers. The appropriate amount of time has come, and we can leave without it looking like we dined and dashed.

“Who’s gonna go first?” Keaton asks.

“Me!” Brooks says, almost shouting. “You guys got to bail first on Easter.”

I laugh and shake my head. Another reason to never marry or have kids. May I never have the type of family where my kids fight over who gets to leave me first.

“Go ahead, Brooks,” I say. He hugs us both then makes his way to the grand sitting area to say his goodbyes.

“How long are you in town?” I ask Keaton as we both check the time over and over until it’s been an appropriate break between us and Brooks.

“I was going to fly back tomorrow,” he says.

“Do you have time for breakfast in the morning?” I ask. He nods.

“That would be awesome,” he says with a smile. He looks down at his watch. “Ready?” I nod.

We find Dad and Angelina, say our painful goodbyes, and bolt for the door.

“I’ll text you tomorrow?” I call out to Keaton as he gets in the car that pulls up for him.

“Sounds good!” he calls back.

I get in the car and tell Tyler to take me back to my apartment. I blow out the breath I’ve been holding all night as I look down at my phone, opening the text she sent me earlier.

I hope your Thanksgiving is as wonderful as you’ve made mine.

Little does she know that it was. And it was all because of her.

JULIAN

Iwake up the next morning, staring out at the city from my bed. I need to get up and go workout, but all I can think about is her.

Before I know it, my hand wraps around my cock, hard as a brick with just the thought of her. Those dark-green eyes beneath those thick lashes, not a drop of makeup on her skin, and she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Her tight little body, hot as hell in her little dresses or in one of my t-shirts. I picture the way she looked, sprawled out on that bed underneath me yesterday. The way her skin smelled like lavender. Her short, dark hair splayed out behind her. The way her nails dug into my arms, her legs wrapping tighter and tighter around me.

I close my eyes, imagining her tight little body wrapped around me. I picture tugging her little jeans down, just low enough for me to be able to get to my destination. I pump my hand faster and faster, picturing her shoving her head back into the mattress as I work my magic. Then I pull them down a little farther, and—errrrrrrr. Errrrrrr. Errrrrrrr.My goddamn phone vibrates around on my nightstand.

“Fuck,”I groan as I sigh, reaching for it.

“Hey, Keat,” I say.

“Hey,” he says. “Did I catch you workin’ out?”

I close my eyes, trying to slow down my breathing. Fucking embarrassing.

“Just a warm-up,” I say. “What’s up?”

“You still want to get breakfast?”

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