One Night Stand With My Husband’s Brother

The manager got up from his seat, along with his assistant. The assistant stepped forward and said to Jeffrey in a placating tone,

“Sir, you have to be authorized.”

Jeffrey’s expression showed that he thought those words were actually bullshit. He slid his card out from his pocket and flung it at the assistant’s chest.

“Is that enough fucking authorization for you?” He spat. The assistant glanced down at the card and gave the manager a wide eyed stare. The manager swallowed and asked tentatively, “You are Chase Axford’s brother?”

That question triggered so much anger in Jeffrey that he has the maddening urge to smash the Manager’s jaw in. There was nothing in this fucking world that gave his ego a devastating blow, as being a brother to Chase Axford. Not just a brother, but a stepbrother. Someone who a lot of people barely even noticed no matter how hard he tried.

Chase effortlessly stole the spotlight with every single thing he did. He was the leader of the Axford Conglomerate, despite being younger. Some whispers also referred to Chase as the true heir, because he is the only son of Richard Axford. Jeffrey hated everything about Chase.

And now, some people don’t even recognize him, and when they do eventually, they only see him as Chase Axford’s brother, not as Jeffrey Axford.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

It was driving him crazy with rage.

He exploded at the manager, “What kind of fucking stupid question is that? Are you trying to piss me off even further? I am an Axford, and the future of the Axford Conglomerate. That’s what you need to know. So if you don’t want to lose your jobs, get your asses moving!”

The manager frowned at Jeffrey’s tone, and tried to talk back to defend himself, but the assistant knew better. He recognized Jeffrey by his tendencies to get brash and violent very quickly, without caring about upholding a good reputation.

The manager started, “Mr. Jeffrey-”

He had barely even said the name when Jeffrey drew up his fist like he was about to throw a punch. His face was livid as he yelled, “Are you trying to fucking argue with me?”

The assistant hurriedly stepped in, “We will head to the security room, right away, sir. We don’t have to get physical, please.”

Jeffrey lowered his fist, giving them both a glare as they led the way out of the office and down the hallway to the control room. In there two security men were lounging in the chairs, but abruptly snapped up straight when they saw they had company.

The manager ordered, “We’re here to check some of the camera footage. Put them on, now.” He glanced at Jeffery, “Which day’s footage do you need, sir?”

Jeffrey shoved his way to the front, till he was standing right out the huge screen on the wall divided into many camera footages. He gave them the date, a week ago, when he had thought he saw Mackenzie in this club.

The security went to work, until there was footage of the bar area from that night, spread out over the large screen. The footage played, showing him bumping into a table, and the lady that was sitting on that table got up and started to walk away when he was distracted by a waiter.

“Pause!” Jeffery exclaimed, when she turned towards the camera.

The screen froze. Jeffery looked over at her, seeing how the woman on the screen was so similar to Mackenzie. She was now carrying her hair curly like how she used to before they got married, but every other thing was similar. The problem was, he could not see her face clearly.

He could not confirm that it was really her he saw.

“Zoom in on her face.” Jeffrey ordered.

The security man obeyed, but the footage only looked more distorted.

Jeffrey crossed his arms, “Zoom in again.” The face on the screen looked even more unclear the more they zoomed in.

He cursed, frustrated. Why the fuck could the camera not even capture her face clearly. The woman on the screen seemed like Mackenzie, but the way she was dressed was nothing like her dressing style.

This woman was dressed so skimpily, in a black dress that showed too much skin and skyscraper heels. Mackenzie was more of a prim and proper type. After all, he made her so.

When he had first met her in North Dakota, she had zero style, knew nothing about class and elegance from her crude lifestyle in that rotten, and godforsaken countryside town filled with nothing but farms and dust. Her hair flowed thick, wildly curled and unruly, and she was just some clueless girl in faded jeans and a t-shirt.

He and his mother molded her from her unpleasant and scrawny style to something sophisticated and elegant. To fit into the Axford family and not ruin their suave reputation.

But still, he knew what he saw that night, even if he was drunk. He just had to confirm his suspicions first.

Jeffrey nudged the security man, “Check the VIP CCTV footage. That must be of higher quality than this shit on the screen right now.”

The security man helplessly looked at the Manager for confirmation. But the manager shook his head, “The footage of the VIP area is restricted, confidential and absolutely off-limits. You can not see it, sir.”

The manager wanted to add that the VIP footage could only be accessed by authorized workers of the law, like cops and detectives, but he refrained from doing so. Because he was scared of the Axfords. They could do anything.

Jeffrey could take advantage of that and get cops to come force them into accessing the VIP footage. So he kept that little information sealed.

Jeffrey snarled at the manager, taking a step forward, “I am a fucking VIP, you bastard. I want to access my own footage of me being in the VIP hallway that night! Show the footage to me, now!”

The door opened and a woman stepped in, her face set in a grim line of focus. She had black lipstick on and a lit cigarette between her sophisticated nails.

“What’s this ruckus all about?” She asked the Manager in a tough tone. Before the manager could respond, she turned to stare at Jeffrey, and then gave a polite nod. “Sir, can we talk in my office?”

Jeffery gave her such a nasty look, that one would have thought she was a piece of diarrhea on the floor, instead of an actual, grown adult. He took a threatening step forward, growling,

“And who the fuck might you be, bitch?”

Her chin angled higher, and barely even flinched from the insult he directed at her, almost like she had dealt with toxic customers like Jeffrey a thousand times before.

“I am the owner of this club.” She answered.

“That’s none of my fucking business!” Jeffrey yelled at her. “Actually, it’s great you’re here, so you can fucking get me the VIP footages I demanded for, since your pathetic staff do not know how to do their jobs!”

The woman gave a little nod, and outstretched her hand holding the cigarette towards the manager. He carefully took it from her and placed it on a nearby cigarette tray. She spoke up calmly,

“Sir, if you continue like this, I will have to call the security -”

Jeffrey cut in angrily, “Do you not fucking realize who I am?!”

“I know who you are, sir. But we have a lot of VIP customers who prioritize their privacy over anything else. Showing you footages from a restricted area would be an invasion of their privacy. That can ruin the reputation of my establishment and even get me sued by multiple powerful people.”

The manager added, “The best we can do for you, sir, is show you footage of the bar. People usually come to the VIP areas for privacy, and showing you footage of it would be breaking customer confidentiality, so we can not help you with that, sir.”

Jeffrey clenched his jaw, realizing that these people were not going to bend to his fucking will anymore. Especially since the appearance of that old, cigarette-smoking bitch seemed to have given them courage. He stormed towards the door to leave, but as his hand touched the handle, an idea occurred to him.

He turned back and let out a huge sigh.

“I lost a fucking expensive ice bracelet in this establishment of yours, and I am fucking trying to find it, yet, you keep making things difficult. Would you like to take responsibility for my lost bracelet?”

Jeffrey’s tone had gone from violent to worry and frustration. The manager stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Mr. Jeffrey, you could have mentioned this earlier.”

“I was fucking trying to trace my steps and all the places I had gone to that night to see where I had lost it.” Jeffrey frowned. “Oh? How about the parking lot? You have camera footage of that, don’t you?”