Page 10 of The Damaged Billionaire

“Nothing. Why?” I ask, sounding nonchalant, hating the emphasis on me. I have always been able to fly under the radar with my family. Harrison was always in the spotlight; his sights set on the governorship is what drove him and our family for years. Then he met Beth and achieved his dream, so we all looked to our second older brother, Ben, as he took the reins of our family law firm. He fired one of our most profitable clients and got an instant family in Em and Rosie, hence the reason we are all here today.

“You're never on time, you are always out late, you look like shit,” Eddie says, and I look at my younger brother for a beat. I always see him as the baby, but he has grown up a lot these past few years, despite being the only one of us boys who still actively speaks to our mother. The mere thought of her sends a shiver down my spine. She has been too quiet lately.

“Not here…” Ben growls, eyeing my brothers, and I look at him sharply. He is Raphel, the red eye bandana face paint doing wonders at hiding his grimace.

“What do you mean, not here?” I look between them, confused, as they all look at each other, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I am not privy to all the information my brothers are.

“Let’s go inside and talk,” Harrison says, taking a step toward the house.

“Wait, what fuck is going on?” I ask. Now I really need that glass of whiskey as my shoulders stiffen.

“Fruit!” Ben hisses at me, and I roll my eyes but nod, acknowledging the kids within earshot.

“We want to talk with you about your lifestyle choices,” Harrison says in a voice that drips with uncertainty, and I look at him with narrowed eyes. For the first time, my brother, the governor, of all people, seems nervous, and that makes me feel on edge.

“Lifestyle choices?” I tilt my head in question, my voice rising slightly.

“Tenn, you’re out every weekend, sleeping your way through half the city; you're not looking after yourself; you’re flashing your cash too much…” Ben adds, and I can see the empathy in his eyes behind the stupid face paint, but my skin starts to crawl.

“So you have all been talking about me? Discussing my behavior behind my back? Planning to what? Confront me all together? Reprimand me?” I press, bewildered, wondering how long they have been in discussion for.

“Hey, you all look great,” Beth says, smiling as she walks up to us. But as she really takes us all in, her smile starts to fade. “You did it here?” she hisses at Harrison accusingly, and my eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re in on this too?” I ask her, shocked.

“Tennyson, we are all worried about you. You’re out late, you’re partying a lot…” she offers as her lips press into a thin line, eyes wide with pity—pity that isn’t warranted.

“I am not partying too much. So I like women and whiskey, who doesn’t?” I shrug, waving off their concerns, but I already know it’s not going to shut them up.

“You need support,” Eddie says, the look on his face making me feel sick to my stomach.

“I don’t need fucking rehab.” I spit out the words under my breath, anger starting to swirl. I might enjoy a drink or two, but I do not have a problem.

“Fruiting!” Ben hisses at me again, while looking around at all the kids who laugh and play nearby.

“No. Not rehab. Willow,” Beth says, her smile small and warm. A woman offering me genuine affection is a novelty to me, and my anger subsides a little.

“What?” Is Beth talking in code because of the kids or am I still drunk? I am pretty sure I finished off the best portion of a bottle of fine Japanese whiskey that I ordered from room service last night when I was with Katie. Or Karen… or whatever her name was.

“What the fu… fruit is Willow?” I ask, drilling my eyes into each of my family members, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Who,” Beth corrects, looking clearly pleased with herself, and I know now that she has organized something.

“Who what?” I seem to be the only one who’s confused, since nobody else is asking questions.

“Willow. Willow is who is going to help you,” Beth says, and I sigh and run my hands through my hair, wishing I didn’t look like a fucking turtle.

“Again, who is Willow?” I ask, trying to keep my voice down, but I can’t help but be frustrated. I wish they would all just get to the point and stop talking in riddles.

“Watch out!” I hear a woman yell from behind me, but my reflexes are slow this morning, and it takes a beat to register.

“Strawberries!” Ben shouts, and I see him move just as I turn and get hit from behind. The thwack of a ball slamming into my head is loud enough for the entire country to hear, my head jerking forward on impact, almost knocking it clear off my shoulders.

“What the fu—!” I groan as my brain rattles in my head, deep throbbing vibrating across my skull, annoyance now crawling up my spine. A soccer ball bounces straight off my forehead and into Eddie’s waiting hands.

“Fruit!” Ben yells, giving me a death stare. “No swearing in front of the kids,” he grits out.

“I just got hit in the head by a fruiting soccer ball. I think my fruiting head almost fell of my fruiting neck!” I yell back at him, all three of my brothers now almost choking on their laughter while my dehydration, pain, and frustration all start to swirl into growing anger.

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