Brandon DeCaro stared at his stoic reflection in the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his tux suit for the umpteenth time since putting it in on half an hour ago. His gaze flickered up to the stray tendril that had escaped his brushed-back bangs and swept over his forehead. He despised it. He had given it the effort to set it in place and yet despite having all the hair products money could buy, his hair wouldn't stay in one place.
Yet she seemed to adore it.
Stella had a thing for his unruly locks. She always had. Not that he knew the same opinion still held.
Scoffing to hide a smirk Brandon walked down the stairs, to find his best friend already waiting in the lobby of his villa, "Look at you, Casanova," Sky teased, hands tucked into his pockets casually, "Are you trying to impress your wife?" He grinned smirking at Brandon suggestively.
Brandon frowned and rolled his eyes, "Shut up Sky," he hissed much to Sky's amusement. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, Brandon was always lavished in money, and he quite literally owned nothing that made him look underdressed.
Sure, he thought about the slight widening of her eyes when she would see him, indicating the mask interest she was desperately trying to keep off her face, but that didn't mean anything.
Brandon was used to those looks, he got it from every woman he would pass. It just gave him a rush seeing it from his ex, that's all.
His phone buzzed in his pocket for the 50th time since he reached home early this evening. He had a lot to do after finishing up that unexpected meeting with the board later that afternoon but instead of going back to the office to spend the rest of the day till the ball, he had gone downstairs to see Stella.
Now he was up to his neck in work and the executives won't stop hounding his cell. Running a billion-dollar hotel chain was no easy feat. Brandon stared at the messages, flicking through them as he put together a plan for addressing this.
The profit margin for the Manhattan branch was less than last year, then there was the DeliFoods issue he was still yet to deal with and on top of that-
"Daddy!" Brandon's oak-brown eyes snapped out of his thoughts to train on a pair of eyes with equal shades. Nic writhed in Sky's arms, his small hands outstretched, indicating his will for Brandon to hold him.
A smile immediately tugged at Brandon's lips as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and untucked his other hand from the tux to reach out to pick up the child, "Hey buddy," he greeted the boy, once he had him in his grip.
Brandon was never a big fan of kids, the very idea of it made him recoil thinking he'd have to play father to his offspring when he barely knew what a good father figure was.
But this felt natural, this felt normal. Why did this feel normal? Had he become so accustomed to having Stella and Nic around that he subconsciously fooled himself into believing he was actually his son?
"Where are mommy and daddy going?" Nic asked, his hands ravelled around each other as he spoke.
"To a party, champ," Brandon replied, his hand instinctively on Nic's back to support him in his arms as he swivelled around. The kid was only 3, his lateral stability wasn't exactly top motor skills.
"I wanna go," Nic pouted, his puppy eyes peeking at him from under his lashes, he could practically see Stella's pleading face from within it.
"Next time, champ," Part of him felt a twinge in his heart to leave the kid alone by himself. Sure, he had Sky, and Sky was a much more capable father figure than he was. But still, he felt this odd sensation in his chest that he couldn't yet describe.
He was beginning to care too much. He was beginning to care too much about this child, he was beginning to care too much about this fake family.
He was beginning to care too much about her.
This would no doubt put them both in a difficult situation when this relationship comes to an end. If he began to care about Cara past the professionalism they were trying to keep, everything else in his life would begin to suffer. He could already feel his work focus starting to slip, it would be a matter of time before she had him wrapped around her finger, making it that much easier to break him.
Again.
Brandon shook his head, masking the thoughts running rampant in his mind as he faced the child that derailed his relationship almost 4 years ago, not that he blamed him for it, "Uncle Sky will take you to play games tonight,"
Nic continued to pout but nodded, his chin tucked to his chest to accentuate his sorrowful eyes, "Okay," He murmured, as Sky laughed.
"All right Puss in Boots, let's go," Sky teetered, reaching out to take Nic from Brandon's arms. Unwillingly, Nic allowed himself to be passed on, but not before giving Brandon that pleading look once again.
Brandon watched Sky walk away, talking to Nic in an overly enthusiastic voice to distract him from the fact that his parents were going out. The child, ever so equipped with a seriously short attention span, grinned and nodded, listening intently to Sky speak as they walked out of the open front door of Brandon's villa.
Leaving him once again, alone with his thoughts.
Brandon fished out his tablet from the pile of documents he had left in the living room in the lobby of the villa in an attempt to distract himself from work.
Had this façade started to become something more? No. Brandon DeCaro was much more of a level-headed man than that to let some pretend game of house get into his head.
He didn't care about Cara like he used to. He didn't have the same feeling he had for her back then, she was just a pawn in this game of inheritance and nothing more. When this was over, she was going to take her son and be rid of his existence, and he could go back to fooling around with other women.
That's right, Brandon DeCaro wasn't a married man, he could look at, or have any woman he wanted with charming looks and the body of a Greek god. He didn't need to stay faithful; he could go out late, and sleep with whoever he wanted as long as it stayed off the press.
He could go right back to his playboy ways and prove to himself that he didn't give a shit about her.
Before he could ponder on his revelation any longer, his phone buzzed again in his pocket. Brandon snatched the device and stared at the caller ID before sighing. "What do you want?"
"Mr DeCaro, I would like to speak with you privately today regarding the meeting you had with your executives this evening," Came a thick Italian accent on the other side of the phone, "Regarding your father's will and DeCaro Industries,"
"Can it wait?" Brandon grumbled back, his eyes darting around for anyone listening in. He wasn't in the mood to be facing this issue so soon. Executives at DeCaro Industries were starting to suspect that the hotel chain may not be inherited by CEO Brandon DeCaro but they were yet to confirm this matter in accordance with Chairman DeCaro's will.
A fight for power was slowly approaching.
"No signore, your father is requesting it now, before the charity ball," The old man really likes to make things difficult for him.
"Merda! [Shit]" Brandon cursed, his attention catching the sound of Cara's heels descending the steps. He leaned down, trying to mask his clearly irritated emotions by avoiding facing her. "Ti parlero dopo [I'll talk to you later]"
He didn't even wait for a response before stabbing the end button and texting Vince to prepare another car. It's fine, he can see to it in 15 minutes and meet up with Cara at the party. Brandon could feel his temper already starting to rise at the thought of going over there tonight.
Did his father think of him as some sort of dog? Calling him at random times throughout the night and expecting him to come running at his every beck and call?
Fucking bastard.
"Brandon?" Stella called his attention, but Brandon kept his gaze glued to the phone, reading through Vince's prompt responses and orchestrating a plan to get there in time to appear at the ball as a couple. "Is the dress okay for the party?"
He didn't even bother looking before dishing out a quick response as though not to seem distracted. "Let's go, we'll be late," he continued absentmindedly, formulating the last of his strategy to get this done.
He heard her mutter something before her heels clicked against the tiles as she walked past him towards the open door into the terrace. Brandon shoved his phone back into his tux pocket, his eyes flickering up and his lips parting to begin explaining the circumstances to her.
The moment his gaze trained on her bare back, gracefully outlining her toned muscles down to the dip at the small of her back, Brandon felt his words wind in his throat.
What is that fucking dress she's wearing?
No. What is this feeling he's getting from the look of her body in that fucking dress?
Suddenly he felt uncomfortable, not with what she was wearing, but because she was wearing it. Brandon usually didn't care what any of his girlfriends wore, he had dated Fashion Designer Stella Solaria when she was at the peak of her career, wearing designs that covered very little.
He wasn't the possessive type. He was secure enough with himself not to give more than two shits.
"Cara, what is that?" His tone was so damn obvious about the lurching feeling in his gut. She sidestepped, the train of the dress gliding along the floor as she faced him. The moment the front of it was in view, he felt his blood set itself on fire.
The deep V-neck plunged just under the bosom, giving a delicate cut scene of her breasts perfectly settled under the fabric of the black dress.
He was at a loss for words. For the first time in his life, Brandon DeCaro couldn't think straight as he kept bottling up his emotions while trying to reason with her to get change.
The wedding ring he had slipped on her finger a few nights back was the centrepiece of the jewellery she wore. It was obvious she was married.
But any man in the room would have trouble looking away from her. Any man, married or not would have trouble keeping away from her. For the first time in his life, he didn't want any other man to look at her, the idea of it made him despise it entirely.
"Cara I don't want some thirsty bastard staring at my wife-"The words slipped off his tongue faster than he could process them. He tried to explain it to her, he tried to reword his outburst to make it seem less like a piercing sword, but even he couldn't understand what he was saying.
She didn't take that very lightly.
"We aren't really married Brandon, so don't try and tell me I'm dressed indecently!" Brandon stood there in silence as Stella flipped out over his slip-up as he tried desperately to figure out what the hell possessed him to say that.
Her heels clanked hard against the tile floor as she stormed towards the car Vince had prepared for her outside.
"Shit," He cursed, running his hand through the locks he had set in place earlier. He didn't have a moment to tell her his plan to address this issue with his father before she had settled into the car.
He was going to have to fix this with Cara later and atone for his stupidity. Grabbing his phone out again, Brandon quickly sent a text to Vince letting him know to go ahead with taking her to the ball.
Brandon felt a rush of release run through him as the car began to roll out of the driveway. He couldn't get into the car with Cara right now and risk making things worse. Moreover, he couldn't be in the same confined space as her wearing that godforsaken dress, he needed a minute to cool his head and a minute to plan his next words before she hated him even more.
He walked down the spiral staircase in his villa, flicking on the lights on the underground floor as the room illuminated. Several of the cars he and his father had collected over the years were parked in the subterranean garage, with his precious sleek black Pagani Huayra at the forefront.
Snatching the keys off the display case, Brandon stepped into his hypercar, fixated on how to make it up to his fake wife now that he had undoubtedly pissed her off. The engine roared to life, its lights illuminating the driveway up to the ground floor from beneath the house as the wheels rolled up the ramp.
Why did he care so much? He had literally convinced himself that he could sleep with whoever he wanted without a care in the world. In fact, he had slept with whoever he wanted since his breakup with her, 4 years ago and no doubt she probably has too.
Hadn't she?
Brandon felt uneasy just thinking about it despite every intention to shut those feelings down.
What kind of men had she given herself to after their break up? Did she keep in touch with the father of her child after they broke up? Does she still have feelings for him despite not being with him?
Would she ever go back to him, granted he was even alive like she refuses to admit?
He stared at the road ahead, every light zipping past the windshield of the car as he broke the speed limit.
Brandon had pushed all these feelings away the moment they broke up. He left the country and ran away from everything in an attempt to drown his sorrows with alcohol and women to get over the reality of how fucking betrayed he felt.
The reality that another man did what he couldn't. Gave her what he couldn't. Did she enjoy it? Did she like it? Was that man better than him? What didn't he have that another fucking man did?!
Brandon's foot was halfway down the accelerator, he could practically feel the floor of the car as it shot through the highway like a bullet.
In the 8 or so short months he had dated her, he was head over fucking heel for her. Every day he woke up with the thought of her and every night he went to sleep dreaming about her. He was smitten beyond compare to the only woman in the world he had ever wanted to see walk down the aisle to him.
And yet she betrayed him.
Ruined his life and any potential existence of romance afterwards. All that was left was the bitter feeling and a cauldron of hate and despair he so desperately tried to bury deep within. This fake marriage did nothing more than dig up the feelings he had spent years pushing away.
This was a bad idea from the beginning.
Maybe he shouldn't see her anymore, he didn't want to see her anymore, he wanted to tell her to end this fake marriage. He didn't want to go back and look her in the face knowing she would always prefer another man to him.
In Stella's eyes, he was always second. Even if he gave her the world, Brandon DeCaro, will always be nothing more than second. Fucking. Place.
And he hated her for it.
SO WHY DID HE CARE SO FUCKING MUCH?!
The light in front of him turned red, and Brandon snapped out of his whirlpool of nasty thoughts before he reacted. His foot slammed hard against the brake pedal, the brake disks of the Huayra screeching the car to a halt right before the intersection line. The disks flaming red and sizzling to reflect how calibre in which it had to hold the speed of the car back.
"Fuck!" He cursed, slamming his palm hard against the top of the steering wheel before staring at the cars crossing the intersection. He had so much on his plate right now, that he couldn't even think straight.
Between this hellish game with his ex and his position in the inheritance, he was losing his damn mind.
I am going to be absolutely frank with you. I was NOT going to publish this chapter I literally called it 'an attempt on Brandon's POV' and scrapped it. But i feel like youse deserve a little glimpse into Brandon's perspective in this whole mess hehe.
It's my Christmas gift for you all!
Lots of love,
Star