Love between Players

"My nephew, not my cousin. That was my mistake, sir," Welsh explained, his tone calm but entirely disconnected from the question Justin had posed.

Justin sighed, his frustration barely contained. "I said the number I called was picked up by a lady. Is your nephew a boy or a girl?" The sarcasm spilled out as irritation tinged his voice. Realizing the absurdity of the question, Justin let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Jesus. I'm losing my fucking mind."

Welsh's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. He assumed Justin's bitterness came from the weight of his life rather than the topic at hand. They were eerily similar in appearance—brothers in every way but blood. Welsh was a shorter, balder version of Justin. Their identical bone structure and matching steely eyes were enough to spook anyone meeting them together.

"I'll invite him tomorrow, if that helps," Welsh offered gently.

A sigh of relief escaped Justin's lips. "Perfect. Invite him to the interview—now, not tomorrow, not—"

"Actually," Welsh interrupted, "Vivian invited you to dinner tonight. You're eating at our house. No excuses. You're coming."

Justin paused, his brows knitting slightly. He had plans. Or rather, he had plans with someone—Elaine, his favorite girl of the moment. She was someone he had decided could be "the one" if he didn't find someone who truly made his heart flip.

"I already have dinner plans—with my girlfriend," he lied casually. The word "girlfriend" came out just a little too smooth.

Welsh gave a skeptical cough. "Your 'intended baby mama'? That girl only wants your money, Justin. She doesn't give two fucks about you."

Justin let out a sharp laugh, bitter and hollow. "Just like every other woman I've ever met, right? If Elaine wants me for my money, good—because I'll never run out of it. She's fine with me seeing other women, fine with just being my baby mama. The girl just wants me in her life."

Welsh concealed his disdain beneath a forced neutrality. He knew Justin too well. Justin didn't love because he feared love. Raised by parents who had crafted him into a machine for their corporate ambitions, Justin's world had never made space for vulnerability.

"All right, here's a better idea: bring Elaine tonight. Kill two birds with one stone," Welsh suggested, knowing the idea would irritate Justin but that it made sense.

After rolling his eyes and sighing deeply, Justin relented with a curt nod.

"Great," Welsh said with a triumphant smirk. "I'll make sure the interview is set for tomorrow."

Five hours later, Justin found himself seated at Welsh's dining table, Elaine by his side. She had dressed to impress—a designer gown, sparkling jewelry—but was glued to her phone, her fingers a blur against the screen. Justin noticed but said nothing; he knew this was business for her. She tolerated these settings because they meant proximity to him, and proximity to him, she thought, meant security.

The table was crowded with delicious dishes, the kind that evoked memories of homemade meals. Justin's mouth watered involuntarily as he surveyed the spread. It had been a long time since he'd tasted food made with heart, without a price tag attached.

Vivian's warm voice broke through his thoughts. "Oh my goodness, you made it!" She rushed to greet him with an affectionate hug. Then her gaze flicked to Elaine, curiosity sparking. "And... is she the one?"

Elaine didn't bother to look up from her phone. The quaint simplicity of the house, the warmth of the family—it disgusted her. If this dinner wasn't business, she'd have left before the starters. Vivian's earnest energy grated on her. She didn't even hide the disdain.

"You have sauce on your shirt," Elaine commented dryly, gesturing at Vivian with a manicured finger.

Justin shot her a warning glance. "Don't mind her," he said apologetically. "She thinks cooking is beneath her. Give her a year as my wife—she'll be completely covered in soot," he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Elaine's head snapped up. "Excuse me? Baby, you do not mean that. I will not be cooking or doing any housework. Do you understand me?"

Justin only offered a wry smile, sipping his wine as if to drown her sharp words. "Thank you, Vivian. By the way, where's your husband?"

"He's putting the kids to bed. He'll be with us soon," she promised, brushing off Elaine's remarks with remarkable grace. "And I'd better go change my shirt." She chuckled lightly and exited the room, still radiating good humor.

Justin admired her for it. She's remarkable. For a moment, he found himself wondering if he could ever have what Welsh had.

When Welsh and Vivian rejoined them, Elaine muttered something about their tardiness, her voice dripping with irritation. The comment wasn't lost on anyone, but everyone chose to ignore it.

The dinner began. Vivian gave her husband a quiet look, and he responded with a small nod—an intimate language between them. Justin noticed but kept his focus on his steak. Whatever unspoken exchange this was, he didn't want to know.

Vivian broke the silence first. "I'm glad you came tonight. I know it hasn't been easy with Welsh's transition to working with me. I apologize if—"

"Stop it, Viv." Justin's tone was firm but tinged with warmth. "You and I go way back. I was supposed to marry you before this jerk swooned you."

The couple laughed. Elaine did not. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her imagination spun over the idea of Justin loving another woman.

"Thank you for understanding," Vivian continued, undeterred. "Welsh's nephew is brilliant, by the way. You're going to love him."

Justin inwardly groaned. The nephew again? He reached for another bite of steak. "So I've heard," he said casually.

Elaine seized the moment. "You're hiring another P.A.?" Her voice dripped with accusation.

Justin nodded, uninterested in the discussion.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've gotten someone from my dad's company. They'd be much more—"

"You didn't touch your food," Vivian interjected kindly, trying to steer the conversation.

Elaine waved her off with a finger, not bothering to look at her host. "I'm talking to my boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend," Justin corrected, his voice clipped.

The room froze. Elaine flushed with humiliation. "Oh," she said icily. "So what am I? The head of your harem?"

"If you're unhappy with your position," Justin said, reclining, "you're welcome to hand it over to someone else."

Elaine's chair screeched against the floor as she stood. Her voice trembled with anger. "You're unbelievable. Fuck you, Justin. Fuck your family, fuck your friends—fuck everything." She stormed out, leaving shattered plates in her wake.

Welsh sipped his wine silently. Vivian, seated beside him, gave her husband a knowing look, her brow furrowing in sympathy—for Elaine, for Justin, for a tension that seemed destined to stay.

For once, Justin had nothing clever to say.