Sins of My Father (Black Brothers #1) (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Archer

I had watched as Brandon approached Langley. I knew I needed to give her some space and concentrate on the woman sitting across from me, but I couldn’t resist the compulsion to stare at her. My greedy gaze drank her in. Her clothes were classy and nondescript, but she didn’t need any adornment. Cat-like green eyes, full dark pink lips, and perfectly etched cheekbones made everything else superfluous.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she glowed as though she had a spotlight shining down on her, highlighting her caramel-colored hair. Illusion or not, Langley was a hundred times more beautiful in person than in pictures I’d been reviewing over the last few months.

And her voice...

When she first opened her mouth at the fundraiser, her raspy tone reminded me of smoky whiskey and hot nights. She wasn’t like any of the women, past or present, in my life, and I wanted her, which was an unfortunate complication. She was also the woman I intended to use to take down Senator Wharton.

Several graphic and wholly inappropriate ideas popped into my head when she asked if the fundraiser was my idea of fun. Wisely, I didn’t give voice to them. At first, I had believed she wasn’t interested in me, but she had too studiously avoided eye contact with me outside the fundraiser and in the taxi for that. No, contrary to what she wanted me to think, she was very aware of me. Even now in the bar, I didn’t miss the not so coincidental glances over her shoulder in my direction. I intended to use her curiosity to my benefit.

According to my research on the Wharton family, Brandon and Langley had dated for six months, and everyone expected them to get married. On paper and in person, they painted a pretty picture. Langley had caramel-colored hair, yellowish-green eyes, and a magazine worthy sophisticated style. Brandon had pretty boy looks, a Harvard law degree, and a noteworthy future in politics. He made the ideal successor to the Wharton political machine.

For undiscoverable reasons, their relationship ended suddenly. None of my contacts found any information to explain it.

No cheating.

No fighting.

No lying.

Nothing…at least on the surface, or anything either party had documented in email or texts.

To anyone not paying attention, it appeared the relationship ended amicably, but I had spent my entire life reading between the lines, and everything between the lines said there was more to their story.

Tonight, like every other fundraiser with both of them in attendance, Langley went to extremes to avoid interacting with Brandon or ending up in the same circle of conversation. Bathroom breaks. Hiding in the hallway. Hovering near the buffet table. Langley had perfected the art of dodging anything and everything related to Brandon.

Her body language validated my instinct that there was bad blood between them. When Brandon’s hand circled hers, and Langley winced in pain, I found the opportunity I needed to intervene.

Within seconds, I was on my feet and across the bar. I grabbed Brandon’s forearm, squeezing until he released her from his grasp. “Back off. She doesn’t want to be touched.”

Langley’s head snapped to the side. “Archer?”

Brandon pressed a finger against my chest. “This is none of your business. Walk away.”

“I’m making it my business.” With narrowed eyes, I stared at the finger he planted in the center of my chest for a split second before I grabbed it and twisted it just as he had twisted Langley’s wrist thirty seconds earlier. Brandon squirmed and wiggled until he broke my hold. He was lucky I didn’t break his finger. I didn’t let people touch me without my consent. Ever. Growing up in a trailer park, I learned fast that if you didn’t retaliate, you ended up bullied or hurt, and I refused to allow a self-important ass like Brandon bully me.

“Archer.” Langley scooped up her clutch from the empty stool. “I’m fine now. Don’t let Brandon drag you into a fight. He’s not worth it.”

“Who’s he? Are you dating him now?” Brandon sneered, his chest heaving and the veins along the side of his neck bulging. “You left the fundraiser with him too.”

“My life isn’t your business.” Langley flipped her hair over her shoulder and tipped up her chin. To an outsider, she looked composed and confident, but her fingers shook as she white-knuckled her purse.

Folding my arms across my chest and raising one eyebrow, I didn’t offer any additional information. He could come to his own conclusion. If he thought we were together, I was one baby step closer to where I needed to be.

Brandon interlaced his fingers and flexed them toward his chest as he stared down his nose at me. A good three inches shorter than me, his intimidation technique failed. I stifled a laugh.

“Don’t waste your time on Langley. You’d think with Rick Mayer for a dad that she’d know how to have fun. Oh no. She’s more frigid and boring than any woman I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot considering all the women in D.C. are vanilla carbon copies.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem leaving Langley alone,” I said, my jaw clenched tight. I didn’t know much information about Brandon other than his connection to Langley and Senator Wharton, but I’d encountered his type at Harvard and in the financial world often. Entitled. Self-important. Pretentious. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to my side, shielding her from his poisonous glare.

Brandon shoved his hand into his gelled hair and then held his hands out wide. “I’d be happy to as long as she keeps her end of our bargain.”

Langley licked her raspberry-stained lower lip. “I already told you I have. You don’t have any reason to believe otherwise. If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”

Brandon nodded and his shoulders slumped, as though her words alone had robbed him of his argument.

“You heard her.” With Langley still wrapped in my embrace, I stepped forward, pushing past him. Brandon stumbled backward a step or two, barely catching his balance before he tripped over the barstool.

I kept walking, threading our joined bodies through the crowd swaying back and forth in excited waves. She didn’t say a word until I reached the door.

She halted. “Wait,” she demanded, her voice raspier than usual. “I’m not leaving with you.”

“Why not? We came here together.” Technically, it was true, but just like right now, I had manipulated my way into the taxi with her.

In one silken move, she liberated her curvy body from my embrace. “I’m here with Winnie. I can’t just disappear without saying something. She’ll be worried.”

“So text her.”

Her mouth opened and closed in quick succession. Then, she folded her arms across her chest, holding her purse in front of her breastbone like a shield. “What about your date?”

I groaned inwardly. Desperate to get Langley away from Brandon, I had left Leah alone at our table without a word. Generally, Leah didn’t care what I did as long as I apologized later with a gift or a dinner. My money and my connections were all she wanted from me anyway, but that didn’t make her a bad person. She never lied about her expectations, and I didn’t lie about mine. I admired her honesty and her wicked sense of humor about the whole arrangement. Her past made her incapable of more, and I respected her for being up front about it.

“I’ll text her. She’ll live.” And she would. She’d find someone else within the hour. Leah was resourceful. She didn’t waste opportunities, and neither did I, and in order for my plan to work, I needed Langley.

“We aren’t friends. You don’t know me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t get it. Why are you helping me?”

“Because you look like you needed help,” I said, answering her as simply as possible. The real reason for my interest in her was a maze of perverse and convoluted turns, but she didn’t need to know about any of that…yet.

She took a step backward and planted both of her hands on her hips. “Lots of people need help.”

“Fair enough.” I smiled. “I’d like to get to know you. You’re beautiful. You’re smart, and you’re interesting, or least that’s my first impression of you. Stop overthinking my motives.”

“And I’m related to Senator Wharton.”

“There’s that, but I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

She gave me a wary look, her forehead crinkling and the corner of her lips curling downward. “You’d be the first to believe that.”

“And that’s why you should trust me.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”

“It’s a taxi ride, not a marriage proposal.” I held out my hand, urging her to come with me.

“Just a taxi ride? Nothing else.”

“If I’m lucky, maybe you’ll agree to meet me for lunch or dinner sometime. If not,” I shrugged, “then we’ll both move on with our lives, exchanging meaningless greetings if we run into each other in the future.”

Langley’s shoulders sagged, and her eyes darted to the side. “Fine. I don’t want to stay anyway. I can’t take another confrontation with Brandon tonight, but I’m not promising anything.”

Perfect. Mission accomplished. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit. “Then, let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Langley

Inside the cab, I immediately cracked the window. It smelled like cigarette smoke. I didn’t think you could smoke in a cab, but apparently, people did, or this driver did, and he tried to cover it up with a pine scented air freshener shaped like a Christmas tree dangling from the rear-view mirror. Instead of masking the odor, it reminded me of the smell of my hair the night after sitting around a campfire.

“So what’s that guy’s story?” Archer said as the cab darted into traffic.

“Brandon?” I said. I tapped my fingers on my leg, fighting the exhaustion settling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to talk about Brandon for so many reasons, but mostly because our baggage was not something to be shared in a ten-minute taxi ride with a stranger, or even your best friend. Brandon and my stepdad killed a piece of my soul and stole any innocent illusions I still harbored about life and my family, in particular.

“Yes. Brandon.”

He grinned at me, flashing his perfectly aligned white teeth. Just that simple gesture was like a lightning bolt, snapping me out of my maudlin mood. An unexpected excitement buzzed through my veins like I was on the verge of something new. Thrilling. Life altering. What the hell? I promised I’d never get involved with anyone connected to my stepdad again, which meant Archer embodied everything I didn’t want in my life right now.

Sexy. Magnetic. Connected to my stepdad. Involved with another woman or women. The elegant brunette could be one of many in the Rolodex of a sexy, well-connected and visibly wealthy man like Archer.

“Long story,” I said, my words clipped. Brandon seemed uncharacteristically edgy tonight. Normally, even the worst news didn’t faze him. That’s why he earned the position as my stepdad’s right-hand man.

To my undying relief, Archer nodded instead of pushing the subject.

“So how do you know Senator Wharton?” I asked, trying to change the trajectory of our conversation and drill the necessity for distance into my brain. Being acquainted with my stepdad was the new meter I used to judge whether I wanted anything to do with someone.

“I don’t.” He cleared his throat. “Not socially anyway. We’ve never spoken at length.”

“But you said you were invited to the fundraiser tonight.”

“I was.”

I adjusted the hem of my dress. “Do we need to play twenty questions before I can pull the answer out of you?”

“I own a financial management firm, Black Investments. I think your stepdad is interested in the depth of my pockets. On a personal level, he doesn’t give a shit about me. I didn’t even talk to him tonight.”

“Black Investments,” I said, nodding my head. Holy shit. Black Investments was a big fucking deal. “You’re that Archer Black.” This man was a legend in the financial industry. I’m not in the financial industry, but I read the financial section of the newspaper on occasion, and his investment strategy or opinion was newsworthy in and of itself. I couldn’t count the number of times I read an article about him or the insane returns he earned for his clients. Even crazier, he only accepted clients with a net worth that exceeded two hundred million. “Wow. That’s a big deal.” I rubbed my hand over my lips.

He smirked, but unlike his other smiles, he didn’t look amused. “Did I finally manage to impress you?”

“Yes. I mean no. Is there a right answer?” I didn’t want him to think his financial status changed my mind about him. Obviously, I was impressed. Who wouldn’t be? His life was a classic rags to riches story. Born to a teenage mother, who, according to the trashier tabloids, was a former prostitute, he grew up in a trailer park. Somehow he managed to snag a full ride scholarship to Harvard. When he graduated, he worked as an options trader for a few years. Then, he formed his own financial firm. The rest was history.

“Most people are impressed with my financial status, but I’d like to think there are other reasons to be impressed,” he answered, the harsh lines of his face softening faintly.

I smiled and squeezed him arm. “Like your good looks.”

“Yes.” He chuckled as his leg nudged mine. “There’s that. I’m glad you noticed.”

“Did you decide whether to donate?” I asked, ignoring the desire coursing like wildfire through my body every single time we touched.

I needed to concentrate on the facts. Archer had the kind of money that made my stepdad’s political operatives swarm like sharks in bloodied water. That meant my stepdad and my mom would push me to use my connection to him…not that it was much of a connection. We shared a taxi twice, and he saved me from Brandon’s verbal lashing. Beyond that, I probably wouldn’t see him again. Was that disappointment twisting my stomach into knots, or just the wine hitting my empty stomach like an acid bomb?

“I did,” he answered, lowering his voice.

My mouth puckered like I sucked on a sour lemon. “So you’re going to do it?”

“Shouldn’t I be having this conversation with Senator Wharton’s political team, or are you interested in shaking me down for money too?”

“No. I don’t care about raising money. I don’t like spending time with people involved in business or otherwise with my stepdad.” My relationship with Brandon taught me to stay far away from my stepdad’s spidery fingers.

“Why not?”

My lungs inflated with air as I sucked in a breath, deliberating what I wanted to reveal. “Brandon is my ex and he still works for my stepdad. It didn’t end well. I don’t want to go there again.”

“So does that mean you’re thinking about seeing me again?” His large hand rubbed the length of his jaw, then he dropped his hand back into his lap.

“I…I don’t know.” I didn’t know how to respond. If I denied it, it’d be a lie. I did want to see him again, and not because of his wealth or influence, but because I liked talking to him. I liked how easily he defused the situation with Brandon. I liked that he offered to ride home with me.

Turning to the side, he met my frazzled stare. His fingertip trailed from my shoulder to my wrist. Even though his touch was ethereal and almost nonexistent, it ignited every nerve ending in its wake. “You don’t know, or you’re not interested? Either way, you don’t need to soften the blow. I’m a big boy. I’ll accept your answer, whatever it is, graciously.”

I chewed on my lip, my mind swirling like an odds maker in Vegas, calculating the pros and cons of letting Archer into my life. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything.”

“Not even a no strings exploratory coffee or lunch date?”

“Maybe that’d be okay,” I hedged. What was wrong with spending an hour or two more with Archer? Nothing, right? I hated that my life had come to evaluating people based on their connection to my stepdad, but after what I learned about him, I couldn’t stand being in his sphere of influence.

The taxi pulled to the curb, idling in front of my small two-bedroom townhome in Georgetown that I rented from my stepdad. It had broad front steps with a gray wood railing and a black metal roof portico. I loved everything about the townhome, from its narrow wooden stairs to the second story, and its ornate carved wood fireplaces in every room. At that second, I wished I lived outside of D.C. so I had a few more minutes with Archer.

“If it makes any difference, I’m not going to commit any money to Senator Wharton’s campaign.”

I cracked the door open. “Now or never?”

“Never is a long time, but I don’t plan to donate any money.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Why? You don’t share his political beliefs?”

“Something like that.” He knocked on the Plexiglas window. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be back.”

I stepped out of the car. “You don’t have to walk me to the door. I’m good.”

“I’m not. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t walk a woman to her door at night?”

“A normal one.” I glanced over my shoulder as I walked to my front door.

“Then you haven’t been hanging out with the right kind of men.” His hand pressed into my lower back again, guiding me up the steps. Shit. My skin tingled under his splayed fingertips.

“Obviously.” I snorted. “I can’t dispute that point after what happened with Brandon tonight.”

His hand slid around my back to my hip as we reached my front door. He squeezed it and then released his hold on me, but he still hovered inches from my body. His presence fogged my brain. Why did I have to be attracted to this man? Why not Todd, my coworker, or someone equally innocuous and predictable? Life wasn’t fair. That’s why.

“Thanks for tonight. For the taxi rides. For helping me with Brandon. Everything really,” I mumbled as my hand blindly fished inside of my purse for my keys—back and forth and in circles. Who would have thought finding one key in a purse with a phone and tube of lipstick could be so difficult? My hands shook when I finally pulled the key from my purse. I only had one glass of wine, so I couldn’t blame alcohol for my inability to concentrate. I could place the blame squarely on Archer, his too dark eyes, his too smooth smile, and his spicy-citrus scent.

“Let me help you with that.” He snatched the key from my grasp before I could object.

I watched as he pushed my front door open. Even the familiar squeak of the hinges didn’t interrupt the charged air buzzing between us. Transfixed, ten seconds crawled like an hour as I stood, waiting for something. That’s when it hit me like a firm slap across the face.
I wanted him to kiss me
. Where the hell did that come from?

His eyes dropped to my mouth, and my lips tingled, craving the moment he made contact.
Oh shit. He wanted to kiss me too.

No.

No.

No.

I promised myself I wouldn’t go down this road again—that I’d stay light-years away from anyone affiliated with my stepdad—but less than an hour in Archer’s company and I wanted to make an exception.

“Well, goodnight,” I said, turning my head to the side, severing the connection shimmering between us, willing it to disappear entirely both physically and mentally. My muscles still strung tight with anticipation and longing, I played with the metal latch on my clutch, opening and closing it.

Click.

Click.

Click.

“Goodnight,” he responded.

If I had kept my eyes on his instead of staring at the scuff on the tip of my right heel, I would’ve predicted his next move and sidestepped it, but I didn’t. I was too busy processing what had almost happened and clicking the latch of my clutch to consider what could happen.

Quick as lightning and without giving me the opportunity to evade him, he cupped my face and pressed his lips warmly against mine, back and forth. Blood roared in my ears like a freight train, growing louder and louder with each brush of his firm lips. He tasted like bourbon, and he smelled like a spicy slice of heaven. The energy sizzled between us like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I molded my body against his, forgetting who he was, who I was. None of that mattered.

But within a flash, he stepped back. The kiss had ended before it started. Irrationally disappointed, my eyes sought out his, and the cocky bastard grinned, probably because I gave in. “I’ll pick you up on Sunday for lunch. Be ready at noon.”

He spun around and jogged down the stairs, never looking back. I guess he didn’t want to give me a chance to snub his invitation. I wouldn’t have rejected him, not after that kiss. I already bought what he was selling, but he didn’t need to know that.

I closed the door and leaned against it, my body sagging with relief and longing. I felt like I had spent the last five minutes in a lightning storm, dodging fate. My heart battered the walls of my chest, and my muscles felt like an elastic exercise band stretched tight and ready to snap. One simple brush of his lips and I was like a powder keg of desire, ready to explode with even the slightest spark.

Sunday. The day after tomorrow. I had a date. Six months had elapsed since my last one. Hopefully this one would end better than that one. If my reaction to his kiss was any indication, it would, and that fact scared me.