The Construction Worker & the Billionaire Page 3

  “Yeah, well, she deserved better than me.”

  “You need to slow down and enjoy the empire you’ve built.”

  “I’m still young. There’s always time later.”

  “But I can see your troubled about it. If you would like to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine. I just need to be alone right now.”

  The old man nodded at double-speed, backing away with that same look of concern.

  “Most certainly, sir. Anything in particular strike your fancy for dinner?”

  Logan shook his head with a tired smile.

  “Whatever you were planning will be fine.”

  Before he could be interrogated any more, or choose from an extensive wine list, he jogged up the stairs. Becoming more depressingly aware of his big empty house with every step.

  I don’t even have a pet. Maybe I should get a goldfish...start small.

  The second he thought the words, he snorted out loud.

  My brother is dripping in glow sticks, booze, and girls, and here I am venturing out on a limb to maybe, possibly, one day get a goldfish. Dream big.

  He shut the door to his bedroom just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out eagerly to see a text from his PI. No words, just a number. Cleveland area code.

  TO CALL OR NOT TO CALL. That is the real question.

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Logan wandered aimlessly along the grounds. Strolling down the dirt paths—framed by wildflowers and palm trees. Hiking up the grassy hills. Jogging down onto the sand so he could look out at the water.

  He was vaguely aware of the fact that Millard was watching him from the house—glued to the window. If he hadn’t thought that Logan was having some sort of mental breakdown by coming home early before, he most certainly did now. No doubt he’d already thought of at least five award-winning psychiatrists to call—his fingers twitching restlessly over his phone.

  Logan didn’t blame him. Everyone from Annalise, to Jerry, to the board, right down to his own private eye thought he was being strange. It should have bothered him. He’d cultivated a flawless reputation based upon dependability. Logic. Endurance. Calm. Nowhere in that equation was there room for existential walks on the beach.

  But today, he couldn’t help it. He had a lot on his mind.

  If he knows about me and hasn’t called himself, then he doesn’t want to talk to me and I should respect his privacy. But what if he doesn’t know? What if he was in the dark like I was?

  Round and round the questions looped themselves. No end in sight. Finally, when it got to be too much, Logan did something else out of character. He made a snap decision.

  Without giving himself any time to hesitate, he reached down into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A surge of adrenaline raced through him, as his fingers typed in the number.

  It rang once. Twice. Three times. Logan was just preparing himself to leave the world’s clumsiest message, when the line opened suddenly to a cheerful voice on the other side.

  “Hello?”

  Chapter 6

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, I can’t believe I’m doing this, I can’t believe—

  “Logan?”

  Logan whirled around only to come face to face with...himself. It was utterly bizarre. The most surreal moment of his entire life. His only comfort was that ‘himself’ was also stunned.

  “Holy shit.” Dylan approached carefully, like at any moment, someone might pull back a curtain and reveal the hidden cameras underneath. “So this wasn’t a joke. We’re really twins. I wasn’t sure if you were screwing with your profile picture. But then again, I knew I was adopted, so I knew it could be true.”

  When the two had spoken on the phone the night before, Dylan had been skeptical. He thought his friends were playing a prank on him. The only thing that finally convinced him was when Logan told him to look up Skylight Resorts online. He could see a very professional picture of him. Of course, it was at that moment—in what had to be the worst timing in the world—that Dylan’s phone died, and Logan had to wait on pins and needles for twenty minutes while he located his charger.

  “Not a joke,” Logan repeated in as steady a voice as he could manage. “Really twins.”

  There was a brief pause, then—

  “Dude—that’s fucking AWESOME!”

  Before he knew what was happening, the man swooped over and embraced him—lifting him clear off the ground with a whooping cheer. He froze with instant surprise, before clapping his hands slowly down on Dylan’s back, a reluctant half of the world’s most effusive hug.

  “How long have you known?” Dylan set him down just as quickly as he’d picked him up, looking him over with sudden interest. “Did your adoptive parents tell you?”

  “No, I actually just—”

  “Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening!” Dylan interrupted, thrilled beyond all belief. “I was literally about to walk out the door when you called, then—BAM! I have a brother?!”

  Logan stared at him curiously. He had never seen such a beaming smile on his own face. A part of him didn’t think he was capable of that kind of brightness. Maybe it was just Dylan.

  “Yeah, I know.” He laughed in spite of himself, raking his fingers back through his hair. They didn’t get very far. As usual, it was slicked back to perfection, frozen stiff with gel. Nothing like Dylan’s shaggy beach waves. In all truth, he would have looked much more at home in Florida, while Logan would have fit right in to Cleveland. “It took me a while to process myself.”

  “How long?” Dylan asked again, oblivious to the fact that he’d interrupted the first time he’d asked the question. “How long have you known?”

  “Not long,” Logan said quickly. “Just a few days. I found out when Evelyn died.”

  Dylan’s face blanked and he shook his head. “Who?”

  It was like a cold chill descended into Logan’s very bones. His face paled as he stared at his brother—appalled beyond words at his mistake. Of course Dylan didn’t know. With how many places the man had lived in the last eight months alone, it had been hard enough for Logan’s PI to find him. He couldn’t imagine the Wayne County Coroner’s Office had much better luck.

  “Um...Evelyn Parker.” He lifted his eyes hesitantly, uncertain how to proceed. “That was the name of our birth mother. I got...I got a notification when she passed away. I guess she wanted us to know about her. I don’t know why she didn’t come forward sooner.”

  “My parents told me she was young and her father absolutely refused to let her keep the baby. But I guess it was babies. I didn’t know that part of it. Just that she was young and forced to give up her baby. She was so upset that they had to sedate her afterward.”

  Logan swallowed hard. “That’s so sad. I thought she just didn’t want us.”

  “No, she did. It’s why I don’t hate her. Our mother wasn’t given a choice. Her babies were ripped from her arms.”

  He looked away. “I wish I couldn’t met her before she passed.”

  “Me too.”

  “My adoptive mom met our biological mom. And they talked. Our father didn’t even acknowledge me. And I’m assuming you too. He said he never slept with her, and just left her out to dry. I never want to meet that bastard.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Did you parents meet our biological mom?”

  “No. All they knew was she was too young to raise a baby.”

  “I can’t believe she’s dead. I should’ve looked harder for her. I mean, I tried. But nothing turned up. I thought I had all the time in the world. I guess not. This is so sad.” His voice wavered as he fought back tears.

  In an instant, every trace of a smile vanished completely from Dylan’s face, leaving him strangely blank. He stared at Logan a second longer, before lowering his eyes quickly to the floor—trying to collect himself. A full thirty seconds passed before he managed to speak.

  “Are you sure she’s dead? It’s he
r?”

  Logan nodded slowly, feeling oddly protective. Was this how you were supposed to feel around family? Was he technically the older brother? “A few days ago. Cancer.”

  Dylan absorbed this for a moment, looking grim.

  “What kind of cancer?”

  The question took Logan by surprise. It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it himself—as pragmatic as he was. All adopted children wondered about their medical history at some point or another. Cancer was a rather ominous red flag for him to have overlooked. Then, just as he was about to quietly panic, a little voice sounded in the back of his head as a detail he’d read in the report floated suddenly to the surface.

  “Breast cancer,” he answered suddenly.

  He had long ago written the woman out of his life’s narrative before he knew all the facts, but he had no idea how Dylan might feel about her. “They told me...they told me it was quick.”

  They had told him no such thing, but he couldn’t stand to see that look on Dylan’s face for even a second longer. It was like the man had been born to smile. Take that smile away, and he was lost without it.

  Dylan nodded slowly, trying to reconcile it all in his mind. A dead mother, and a twin brother all in twenty-four hours.

  “Do you have a picture?” Dylan asked.

  Logan pulled out his phone and showed him the pictures he found in his investigation. “Um, that one right there was taken after she had us.”

  “She was so young. So beautiful.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “We look just like her.”

  “Sure do.”

  Dylan blanked out as he pondered everything. There was only so much the human mind could take. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

  Chapter 7

  The place Dylan had picked to meet was a bar in the heart of downtown Cleveland. A little grittier than the places Logan was used to, but to be frank, he appreciated the anonymity. At any rate, a drink was a drink. And it was badly needed.

  “Hey there, sweetheart.” Dylan winked as a pretty waitress came to take their order. “I’ll have a Guinness with a side of Jack. You know what—make it a double.”

  There was something inexplicably sensual about the way he said double, and Logan buried his face quickly behind the menu to give the two of them a moment—feeling a bit like an extra on a sitcom, the foil to the handsome playboy that always got the girls.

  Strange. Usually when Logan walked into the room, he spent the entire rest of the night trying to avoid the spotlight and the gaggle of long-legged gold-digger women that came with it. But sitting beside Dylan, a man with the same face and a vastly more outgoing personality, he might as well as been invisible.

  ...he loved it!

  “You got it.” The waitress flashed him a seductive smile, trying to figure out a way to discreetly leave her number, before turning to Logan. “And for you?”

  The menu came down. Logan had been considering getting his regular scotch, but was suddenly worried it would sound too pretentious in a place like this. Maybe a beer instead?

  “What do you have on—”

  “Oh my gosh!” She clapped her hands over her mouth with a high-pitched squeal. “You guys are twins?! That is so cute! Are you identical? You totally look identical!”

  The entire thing was fired out in a rapid-fire stream of consciousness that made Logan flush and Dylan grin. The two of them shared a quick glance—experiencing, for the first time, the same reaction that good-looking twins around the world got every day.

  “We’re actually not twins,” Dylan informed her in a flat deadpan, “we’re triplets. And the third one’s coming—so let’s get these drinks going, okay?”

  Logan leaned back in his chair with a secret smile, blown away by the innate ease with which his brother was able to lie. Nature versus nurture, right? Logan had a hard time hiding it from Millard when he didn’t like a particular dinner. Triplets would be out of his league.

  “What about you, bro?”

  He lifted his head as Dylan flashed him a mischievous smile—latching onto the familial nicknames more and more. “You know what...I’ll have the same thing he’s having.”

  “Excellent.” The waitress gathered up both menus, then remembered herself and dropped down an extra for the ‘third’ member of their party. “Those will be right up. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can get you.” She winked at Dylan. “Anything at all...”

  Dylan grinned widely. She left them sitting in silence. A silence that wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it could have been, considering the circumstances. Just a minute or so later, the drinks came. Dylan lifted his shot glass into the air, motioning for Logan to do the same.

  “To us,” he flashed his signature grin, “to family reunions, twenty-five years too late.”

  Logan clinked their glasses together.

  “Better late than never.”

  They downed the shot, and before Logan had even set down the glass, Dylan snapped his fingers for two more. Then two more. Then two more after that. Logan kept pace with him, matching drink for drink, but when Dylan raised his hand for a fifth, he shook his head.

  “You know what—I’d better not. I have an early day tomorrow.”

  A warm flush had spread through his entire body, and the edges of his words were beginning to slur. In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d acted his age—throwing back shots in a bar with a stranger who was quickly turning into a friend. But that persistent little voice kept chiming in from the back of his head. The one telling him to be responsible.

  Fortunately, Dylan’s voice was quite a bit louder.

  “In Miami?” The two of them locked eyes and he grinned again—tracing his finger around the rim of his glass. “Yeah, I looked you up too, Logan Alexander Chase. Skylight Resorts. Youngest self-made millionaire on the East Coast. How did you get here tonight? Private plane?”

  Over the years, Logan had been forced to talk about his fortune more times than he could possibly count. But there was something funny about the way Dylan talked about it. Like the entire thing was some kind of joke. One they could laugh about together.

  “Billionaire,” he corrected his brother with a sly grin. “Self-made billionaire. And yeah—I took the G5.”

  Dylan threw back his head with a sparkling laugh. “Oh—apologies. My mistake. I would have taken my own private jet, but seeing as I live in this city, I decided to take a cab.”

  Logan nodded with a thoughtful frown, one that barely hid the mischief beneath.

  “Not far from the construction site?”

  “Whoa!” Dylan kicked back in his chair with a drunken grin. “A self-made billionaire who still finds time to tear down the working class. No one saw that coming.”

  “I was kidding.” Logan laughed, watching Dylan trace the rim of his glass once more. It was a habit he had himself. “And I’ve always hated that term. Working class.”

  “I imagine that’s a hatred ingrained in you at boarding school—”

  “No, I’m serious.” Logan glanced around the bar, watching as the rowdy night slowly picked up steam. “What does it imply? People think I don’t work? That I didn’t slave away day and night to get to where I am today?”

  Dylan chuckled, raising two fingers at the waitress yet again. “I think the point is, you no longer have to work. You have the easiest life in the world now, little brother.”

  “Little brother?” Logan shook his head with a grin. “What makes you think that I’m the younger one? I was actually thinking the opposite.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “And I don’t have the easiest life in the world.” Logan laughed aloud as his mind raced through his daily routine. “At the office by seven. Work round the clock. Leave at midnight. You know what, there are parts of my estate I swear I’ve never seen in daylight.”

  “Parts of your estate.” Dylan snorted, tipping the waitress as she lay the new shots upon the table. “Yeah
man, I feel really sorry for you.”

  “I’m just saying—I’d kill to have a nine to five job like you. Not bring anything home with me. Turn everything off the second I clock out at five.”

  “Aw—you know about ‘clocking out?’” Dylan raised his eyebrows like he was witnessing something adorable. “I’d say you learned that from a movie, but it sounds like you don’t have time to watch those either. What between the jet, the women, and the private estate.”

  “The women.” Logan chuckled, not noticing the whiskey until it was placed right in front of him. “From the looks of things, you have a lot better luck with the women than I do.”

  “Well, that’s true.” Dylan tossed back his shot with a wicked grin. “Construction might not come with a gilded castle, but it does come with certain other...perks. I mean, you saw my profile on social media.”

  Logan tossed back the shot without thinking. His fifth in less than an hour. “Yes, I’ve seen evidence of those perks.”

  Dylan quickly ordered two more drinks, fighting back laughter all the while.

  The new shots were set on the table, but this time, Logan pushed his away.

  “No, I really shouldn’t. There’s this meeting tomorrow I can’t reschedule or miss, so I’ve actually got to get going—”

  “I don’t think so.” Dylan caught his sleeve as he pushed to his feet, and pulled him back down into his chair. “Everything can be rescheduled or missed—you’re the CEO of the fucking company! Loosen the hell up!”

  Logan shook his head regretfully. “Can’t. Sorry. But let’s do this again—”

  “Hey.” Dylan picked up a drink and pressed it into Logan’s hand, before taking one for himself. “You called me here, right? You wanted to meet? Get to know your long-lost brother?”

  Logan glanced down uncertainly. “Yeah, very much.”

  “Then we’ve got twenty-five years’ worth of bonding to catch up on.” Dylan clinked his glass against Logan’s, his eyes sparkling with a devilish smile. “Drink up, little brother. The night is young...”