Pain? Regret? Sorrow? For a fleeting moment, Simon could see every one of those emotions reflected in his brother's eyes. By the time he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask his elder brother about it, Sam's expression had turned indifferent and apathetic. Simon snapped his jaw closed, recognizing the look on Sam's face, the unequivocal signal that meant his sibling didn't want to talk about it.
"She's being unreasonable." Simon grumbled, returning his attention to his current problem. He wouldn't push Sam to share his pain if his brother didn't want to.
"Admit it. You love her." Sam crossed his arms and shot Simon a knowing look.
"She's stubborn."
"You love her."
"I trust her. I tell her everything else."
"You love her."
"Fuck!" Simon slammed his fist down on the desk so hard the solid oak shook on its foundations. "She makes me crazy. She makes me happy. I think she's so beautiful that I want to just sit and look at her for hours. One minute I'm perfectly sane, and the next I'm totally losing it. She couldn’t give a shit less about the fact that I'm rich, and I think the woman is blind because I swear she doesn't even notice that I'm scarred. The way she looks at me sometimes makes me feel like I'm ten feet tall. And she's looking at me. Not the billionaire, not the wealthy executive. Just the man. She can be as stubborn as a damn mule, but I even like that because she's determined. Smart. Kind. And she puts up with my cranky ass, accepts me exactly as I am." Breathless from his tirade, Simon sucked in a trembling, uneven gulp of air. He slumped forward, his anger spent. "So, yeah. If these wild lunatic, possessive feelings for her that I have every f**king minute of every day are love...I'm screwed. I'm can't even imagine having to live my life without her." Voice vibrating with emotion, he looked up his older brother, his expression tortured.
"Then don't." Sam answered simply, his brow lifting, meeting Simon's questioning glance. "We built this company together. We started in a crappy, one-bedroom apartment, bro. Now we're wealthy beyond our wildest dreams and a major player worldwide. If you can accomplish that, you can handle this." Sam's voice went from serious to teasing as he added, "Pull your head out of your ass and solve the problem."
Simon lips curved up in a small smile. He hadn't heard Sam say those words in years. It had been a frequent statement back in the days when they were still building Hudson. If one of them got stalled in the business by a roadblock, the other would kick them in the rear with those exact words. It had become their mantra, but they hadn't needed it in a very long time. They had plenty of employees who were paid very well to solve those problems before they ever got to Sam or himself. "Sometimes I think that I'd rather rebuild a whole business than to have to deal with this."
Sam shrugged. "Business is business. It's not always easy, but the outcome is fairly predictable. Relationships are messy. You have no data, no statistics. Nothing to justify taking the leap except emotion." Sam shuddered, as though the thought of jumping into a serious relationship was akin to torture.
"Then why in the hell are you telling me to do it?" Simon pierced his brother with an irritated glare.
"You need her." Sam stood abruptly and buttoned his suit jacket. "But if you ever decide you don't want her--"
"Don't start!" Simon rumbled, his voice lacking venom. If he had realized anything today, it was the fact that his brother had his own secrets, a woman in his past --very likely Maddie, judging by Sam’s strange reaction to the curvy redhead--who still haunted him. He suspected that whoever she was, she was the reason that Sam went through women so fast, so unemotionally. Sam was trying to fill a void, trying to forget. Simon shook his head, knowing that his elder brother was smart enough to figure out eventually that it just wouldn't work. If a woman got under your skin, she stayed there. Simon's whole world revolved around Kara now, and no other woman could ever be a substitute, could ever fill the black, huge vacuum she would leave inside of him if she ever walked away.
Sam's charming smile was back. "You love me. You know you do."
"Not right now." Simon answered automatically.
Sam swaggered to the door, not a hair out of place, his suit and tie undisturbed. No one would ever know that he had just watched his younger brother practically have a nervous breakdown before his eyes.
Sam placed his hand on Simon's door. Before he could exit, Simon called after him in a husky voice. "Sam?"
Sam turned back with a quizzical expression. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for listening."
The look that passed between them spoke volumes. Simon wanted to tell his brother how much he cared, but a lump formed in his throat. They sparred like brothers often did, but Sam had sacrificed a lot for Simon and his mother. Worked his ass into the ground for all these years.
"Nobody deserves happiness more than you, little brother. It's within your grasp. Take it." Sam answered, his voice full of brotherly support, as he exited without another word.
Blowing out a shaky breath, Simon stood and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the plush, executive office. Other than his desk and chair, everything was decorated in art deco, a design that he really didn't like. How in the hell had that happened?
The office had been done years ago, but he'd never really noticed, never really cared.
Maybe because you told the decorator to do whatever she wanted.
Yeah, that's exactly what he had done years ago. He couldn’t have cared less what decor the interior designer chose. He came to work, took care of business, and retreated back to his condo so he could immediately bury himself in his lab at home. Maybe he grunted a greeting to his secretary and personal assistant when he arrived and departed from the high rise building every weekday morning. Or maybe not. He was usually so hyper-focused on work, so enclosed in that bubble, that he didn't even remember.
He jerked at the knot in his expensive burgundy tie to loosen it and undid the top button of his shirt. Christ, how he hated wearing a suit.
Careful with the tie. It's one of Kara's favorites.
Actually, that might not be true. He wasn't exactly certain that she had a favorite. She told him every morning how handsome he looked when he arrived in the kitchen dressed for work in a business suit and tie. But the very first time she had told him that, he had been wearing this tie. Since that day, he found himself reaching for this particular tie pretty damn often on his work days.
He snorted softly as he walked toward the door of his office, his stride nearly silent on the plush carpet. Christ, he was going off the deep end.