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Chapter 12
Evan
I wake up early just as I always do, and I’m able to see the sun breaking out over the horizon. It’s my favorite time of the day; when everything’s quiet, and all you can hear are the sounds of the country.
I’ve been coming here my entire life. Ever since my mother, Marilyn, married my father, George Belcourt, this has been my home. I’ve spent countless summers between here and in boarding school. I came home for the holidays even when I was in college.
George Belcourt made this my home. He accepted me into his arms and into his family, and I’ve never thought about it since. He’s the only father I’ve ever known.
This morning, as I look out upon the grassy gardens and the expanse of beautifully maintained grounds that circle the mansion, I see Meg, my ethereal angel, walking in the early morning air.
I just watch her for a long time while taking in her beauty. She’s walking in some kind of a short nightgown. Her brown curls are gliding down her back.
She must be an early morning person like myself.
And yet in this moment, I’m reminded that my brother Paul stole her from me last night. For as much of a family as George Belcourt has built around him, there’s this ever-present competition with my brothers. We always go for the same girl—the prettiest girl—in the room.
While none of us are relationship-people, it’s important for me to know that I have the upper hand on my brother. So I watch Meg with a certain amount of lust, desire, and jealousy—it’s all mixed into one.
I want her so goddamn bad. I never should’ve waited. I never should’ve hesitated. I should’ve gone for her first.
But Meg evokes this sense of vulnerability and sensitivity that I want to respect. She deserves the world.
For some reason, I didn’t want to be a one night stand for her. I wanted more. I wanted to let her know that I care about her, and the only way to do that was to hold back for a while.
My brother Paul gave no notice of going after her last night. He’s barely officially met her, and she’s already been to his bedroom. It makes me fume with envy. She walks around the grounds, and I wonder if her pussy’s feeling freshly fucked by him or what.
Damn, how I wish it had been me.
My brothers and I might be in competition for the same woman all the time, but we normally don’t share. Not one at a time anyway.
I’m determined to have Meg, even if Paul’s already been inside of her.
It doesn’t mean anything—it doesn’t mean that he’s won the game.
I still have a shot. She’s barely gotten to know me and my charms. I’m sure when she does, I’ll be the brother that she chooses to be with.
I pull myself away from the window and make myself an espresso. My suite has all the amenities, including an espresso center.
I make it a double, and I make it strong. I need it for this morning. My mind’s racing with thoughts of spite and rivalry.
The espresso machine pumps out the creamy dark liquid, and I take it to the window in a little cup to enjoy the view of Meg. My libido’s in overdrive, even this early in the morning. I have a hunger and a longing for her that’ll only be satisfied once I have her on her knees, begging for my cock.
I decide it’s time for a grand gesture. The chef is still here from last night. I’m going to get him on the phone and to plan a little something for Meg that’ll surprise and delight her.
I call the kitchen.
“Hi, is Chef Bartholomew still in? Oh good, he’s already up. Please, can you inform him that I’d like to talk to him? Thanks.”
I wait for the chef to get on the line. Finally, he does.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Hi sir, it’s Evan. Listen, I’d like you to be in on a little surprise I have planned for the woman we dined with last night. Her name’s Meg. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to set up a little breakfast in the gardens outside. You know, something simple. Farm-to-table, and yet also elegant.”
“Okay,” he says in his European accent. “I have the perfect idea for you. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll set up everything.”
“Great, that’s perfect. Thank you, Bartholomew.”
