The half brother

The half brother

Bastian

Standing next to my desk in my office, I realised there was something odd going on in front of my eyes. Yet I couldn't point my finger on it. Electra had a polite smile on her face when she shook hands with my half brother, and he was also charming as usual, but they were tense. Or maybe I was just imagining it because I hated the look Peter was giving her. He clearly liked what he was seeing, and I felt a stab of jealousy in my chest. I had to bite my tongue to stop the vexing comment from escaping my mouth when, according to my watch, he had been holding her hand for too long.

"Would you like something to drink?" Electra asked, drifting her gaze to me. Her diplomatic expression made me snicker. She wasn't very excited about his presence and interest, and a pleasant warmth spread from my stomach to my whole body. She was mine, I had nothing to worry about.

"Coffee for me, please," I said, sitting down, raising my eyebrows at my visitor. "Peter?"

"Nothing," he replied, his eyes not for a second leaving her face. "Thank you, darling."

"My name is Electra," she stated coldly, giving him a hard glare, and I smirked. "In case you forgot." She turned on her heels and walked out, leaving me in the office with a man who had been getting on my nerves since the day I found out about him.

"What do you want?" I asked, leaning into my seat, when he came closer. He called me a few days back, asking for a meeting, and I was trying to avoid him, but eventually, I agreed. He was very resilient and I just hoped that he wasn't in some kind of trouble again. One brother in jail was enough.

"A favor," he replied, his gaze fixed on mine. His eyes were the same colour as Fredy's, and I remembered as I prayed to God that he also had a similar nature, but my wish was never heard. I often thought that with all the stupidities that he had done, he was only trying to get the attention that our father didn't give him. It's hard to say if I was right, because one thing was that he was crazy during puberty and the other was that, as a grown up man, he wasn't any better.

"I told your mother that it was a one-time deal," I reminded him firmly, watching my beautiful princess, who had just entered the office, as she was gracefully moving toward us. Peter was quiet for the whole time when she was putting the coffee in front of me and started talking only when she closed the door.

"I'm not asking you for money, Bastian," he stated, lowering his head. He looked like he was preparing for something unpleasant. I was stirring my hot concoction with a small spoon, studying him.

I knew about him much longer than my siblings. I found out when I was twelve years old that our father had another son, and I wasn't very understanding. I took it as a horrible betrayal from my dad, that he was hiding him from us. However, I wasn't stupid and when dad explained to me that mom would be devastated and she would want to leave him, I played by his rules. It was our little secret, and I was watching Pete from a distance, as he was doing one foolish thing after another.

"Then, what do you need this time?" I inquired, taking a deep, steady breath, preparing myself for another level of craziness. Three months ago, I paid three million dollars in his name to the Russian mafia family, because if I hadn't done it, he would be dead by now. His mother came to me, crying and almost begging me on her knees to help him, and I just couldn't say no to a broken woman, who loved her son so much that she forgot about her dignity and was prepared to do anything in order to save him.

But the deal was that it was the last thing I did for him. I didn't have the patience nor the will to continue helping someone who was using me. I had a soft spot for my brothers, and even when it was the time when I literally hated him, he was my sibling, my blood. It wasn't his fault that our dad stuck his dick in every woman who smiled at him.

"I need a job," he replied in a quiet voice, staring at his hands. I was so taken aback that I inhaled and coughed the hot coffee. I felt the bitter liquid in my nose and my lungs were burning when I was doing my best to get some oxygen into my body. He almost killed me with one statement, asshole..

"Are you okay?" Pete jumped up to his feet, jogging around the table to help me. I felt tears in my eyes, and I had to blink rapidly to clear my vision.

"I'm fine," I grumbled as I drank the cold water. He gave me a doubting look, but he returned to his seat, cautiously watching me. "You want... a job?" I repeated the most shocking thing he ever told me. He never worked. Our dad gave him enough money to live a very comfortable life, yet Peter and his idiotic actions cost a fortune. I knew that he was penniless, but asking me for a job was something I would never have expected from him.

"I know that your people are following me," he announced, leaning into his seat. "But there are things you don't know. Things which I purposely hid from you and from our dad as well."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, frowning at him. I was keeping my eyes on him because I didn't want to be surprised by Ukrainian or Russian killers on my doorstep. He could do whatever he wanted with his pathetic life, but I had a family to protect.

"Because you would have taken her away from me." He lowered his voice and avoided looking me in the eyes.

"Her?" My eyebrows shot up. I didn't have any idea what the hell he was talking about.

The weird silence settled between us. I noticed that his breathing quickened, he was nervous, and for some reason, he hesitated to give an explanation. Well, our relationship wasn't the best, but I wasn't some heartless monster and he knew me well enough to understand my decisions.

"I have a daughter," he declared after almost a minute, and I was glad that I wasn't sipping my coffee, because the result would be the same or worse as before. I would have probably choked with it this time.

"What?" I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him. I was sure that I had heard him wrong.

"Her name is Layla, and I want full custody of her," he continued, ignoring my flabbergasted expression. So obviously, he wasn't joking, but what the hell?

"Wait, wait, wait." I raised my hand, stopping him from proceeding. I had to process one thing at a time, and I also made a mental note to ask my PI how it was possible that he didn't find out about my niece. "You made all of this with Russians while you had a child at home?"

"She was with her mother, but the situation has changed now," he replied, his face darkening and tears settling in his eyes.