STEPBROTHERS (3 Book Stepbrother Romance Collection) (29 page)

But today, a regular old Friday, and the doors unusually barred entry.

For fuck’s sake Travis, what now?
I thought as I dug into my gym bag, fishing around for the bunch of keys to let myself and the small gathering and anxious crowd in.

Travis better be sick or dead; there was no excuse for this type of shit. I’d given him so many chances over the years, and this was starting to take the piss. He was supposed to be my right-hand man, but it was more like he was taking advantage of our family connection. He was my cousin, and literally the only family I had that wanted anything to do with me.

The gym, although not my main source of income—though it soon would be—needed to be open. I needed it to look legit, for tax reasons you understand… I wouldn’t be able to account for all the surplus income I made if the doors were closed. It’d be a dead giveaway:
Dodgy-dealings R Us
!

I flicked the overhead lights on as the men trailed in behind me, ready for their morning workout. The gym was nothing more than a warehouse, really. Large and drafty, but it got the job done. No heating, ghastly fluorescent lighting, but what it lacked it made up for with expensive shit: stacks of weights, a boxing ring, and plenty of sparring equipment. Nothing was too good for my guys.

As I was about to call Travis, my still bloodied-up fingers scrolling through the contact list on my phone, I heard a groan coming from my office.
You have to be kidding me.

Crashing the door open hard enough to rattle the flimsy door frame, I entered my office, perfectly aware of what I would find. Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t some homeless geezer who’d managed to break in to look for a place to lay his head… No, it was none other than my pathetic excuse for a cousin: Travis.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I bellowed and swiped at his feet, forcing them off the couch where he lay.

It took once glance around the small room to know exactly what the hell had happened. Dusty lines, remnants of Travis’s own little party from last night, were present on the glass table beside him. He was using again. I’d already beaten one man bloody that day; did I really have to knock some sense into this idiot, too?

“Mornin’. What time is it?” Travis groaned as he wiped his bloodshot eyes and managed to sit up right.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Travis? Morning?” I closed my eyes for a brief moment. What did they say? Count to ten to stop yourself from doing something stupid?

I got to four when he opened his mouth.

“Ah, mate. Don’t worry, I’ll get it cleaned up.”

“Don’t worry? He tells me not to worry,” I said, a small exasperated laugh escaping my lips as I paced in front of the glass coffee table. It took everything I had not to grab hold of his smarmy little head and smash it into the glass.

“Yeah, no harm done,” he replied and got to his feet.

I lost it and slammed him hard against the wall, which definitely got his attention and woke him the fuck up. Gone were his bleary eyes, which grew wide and verged on panic.

He held his arms up in surrender, knowing full well not to touch me. He’d seen me destroy plenty of men’s lives with my fists and knew not to make a move. But inside, I was begging for him to do it. Even if he was my fucking cousin.

“Are you out of your tiny, coked-out mind to bring drugs in here—my place of fucking business?” I snarled, my mouth so close to his ear I could almost wrench it off with one nasty bite.

“I fucked up, Vin. I had nowhere else to go. Trina kicked me out last night.”

“So you just thought you’d come here and have yourself and merry ol’ time, did you?” I was seething, ready to rip his throat out. How could he be so stupid? I knew he dealt on the side, and I’d let it slide as it never interfered with my business or the gym… but now, fuck. It would be just my luck that I was trying to get everything sorted, trying to get out of the loan-sharking business, and this moron would screw it up for me. Yet here he was, swanning around, high on his own stash and bringing it into my house, risking everything I’d work hard for.

“I didn’t think—”

“Yeah, you fucking didn’t!” I slammed him against the wall again for good measure. What the hell was I going to do with him? He was blood, the only bit of family that was still speaking to me. Mom wanted nothing to do with me, never mind her new husband, who’d told me as much when they first got together. Made a point of it actually, came around and told me to steer clear of them.

Shit, why was I even thinking about this now?

I dropped my hands, forcing them to open, making myself spread my fingers so I didn’t clench them back up into fists and take my anger out on Travis’ miserable face.

“What’s with the blood?” he asked cautiously.

I ignored him. “Clean this mess up and get out of here, Travis, before I add to the crimson on my shirt.”

One look at me was all it took. He quickly moved towards the coffee table, wiped it with his shirt-sleeve, then backed out of the office, his tail between his legs.

“And Travis?” I called. He popped his head round the door frame, not wanting to put a foot back into my territory. “Cross the line again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

He nodded, knowing I was a man of my word. He started to back away again, but I put a finger up to stop him.

“Where’s the money from last night’s collection?” I asked, my voice even, controlled, hoping for his sake he hadn’t fucked that up, too.

Travis’ face fell. The answer was written all over his guilty face, and I sighed as blanket of red rage fell across my vision.

M
y life was
one big lie. The clothes I was wearing were a lie, even the cute little summer dress I had on; the hem of the skirt grazing just beneath my knees was laughable. Even the fake-ass smile I had plastered upon my face was a goddamn lie.

And no one knew it.

Not even my father—I didn’t want him to know my secret most of all. But he was easy to fool; he saw only the sweet, innocent exterior that I allowed him to see. He could never envisage anything different. To him, I’d always been the good girl, the one who did everything right and never disobeyed or disappointed him.

I almost laughed at the thought. If he only knew I had a lot more in common with the one person he detested. But we weren’t supposed to talk about that… and like a good daughter, I did what he asked and kept my mouth shut.

“Dottie, can you pass the potatoes, please?” My dad Theodore asked from the head of the table. I hated the nickname, but I shrugged it off. It was only the three of us for our regular Friday night meal, but yet he still felt the need to lord it over us, to sit apart from us, the king of his own castle, and we his obedient minions.

And by we I mean me and his trophy wife, Lacy. Oh, she wasn’t all bad, I supposed. But she was quiet, malleable, knew her place and all that. Quite a bit different from how I remembered my mom, but I quickly shoved that trip down memory lane aside.

Watching Lacy—I’d practically made a hobby out of it—almost drove me to insanity as I saw her fawn over my father, doing anything and everything he ever requested, going to and fro into the kitchen just as she was about to pop a forkful of food into her mouth, or whenever my father asked for a top-up of his glass. But then, I shouldn’t feel too sorry for her; if Lacy didn’t want to be here, or disliked being treated like a glorified housemaid, then all she had to do was locate the door and walk through it.

But she had it made, living a life of pure luxury. Being a judge’s wife had plenty of benefits, and coming from a life of mediocrity, I had a feeling she wasn’t about to give up the one she’d bagged now.

She was always so accommodating, and her smile, pulled wide upon her cheeks, almost reminded me of my own. It made me wonder, was she playing the good wife like I was playing the good daughter? Of course she was, but why? The money? The life? Or was it for shits and giggles…? I knew I had my reasons, but I was curious to know hers.

Lacy handed the dish of roasted potatoes to me, and I passed it down to my father, who nodded. “Thanks, Sweety.”

I smiled brightly, my eyes full of false twinkles.

As he piled his plate with his vegetable of choice, he started the weekly inquisition. It happened every time we had our family dinner, without fail. You could almost time it down to the minute when the good ol’ judge would begin his interrogation.

Luckily for me, they were practically all the same. Occasionally he’d slip in a new one, to keep me on my toes, but most of the time I could predict which ones were to come.

“So, how’s work? Been busy this week, I expect?”

I lay my knife and fork down onto the edge of my plate and gave my father my full attention, as he liked it. He couldn’t abide sheepishness or lack of eye contact; he wanted you to be present in the moment, especially when he was asking you a direct question. Swallowing my last bite of roast beef, I nodded.

“Oh, yes, Daddy. So very busy. You know how it is this time of year—everyone’s starting their Christmas shopping, so business is booming,” I replied, keeping the smile pinned to my face and knowing that most of what I was saying was a pack of lies… Although, come to think of it, business was booming, just not the business he was thinking of.

“That reminds me, Thea,” Lacy interrupted—finally someone using my preferred name, unaware of the scowl my father was giving her—“I need to put a few orders with you before you leave tonight. Your little soap gift baskets will be just perfect for the girls down at the hairdressers who take care of me.”

“Sure, no problem. Let me know what size and scents you want; actually I have a new scent in—a gorgeous lavender and lime one that I’m sure they’ll love. I can get it together for you and bring it around next week?”

“Sounds perfect,” she beamed.

My father cleared his throat to get our attention back onto him. He liked to lead the discussions and tolerated them only briefly when they veered off-course.

“I’m very glad your little business is doing well, Dottie. Perhaps you should think about expanding? Make the most of it while you can,” he instructed.

“That’s a great idea, Daddy. I’ll definitely look into it in the new year. Perhaps even open an actual shop. Wouldn’t that be fun?” I chirped. I bit my tongue hard as I smiled. Nothing would make me unhappier. The small soap and cosmetics business I had going on the side was a cover and nothing more. It allowed me the freedom to do what I’d always dreamed of doing. But I couldn’t allow my father to find out what that was.

I was supposed to be his special little girl, the good daughter. Him knowing how I really earned my money would most likely send him into an early grave. Not to mention ruin his reputation and career.

No, I couldn’t allow that to happen. After all he was still my father, and I did still love him, even if he did break my mother’s heart. He was still my family, and my alternative lifestyle shouldn’t negatively affect his.

He’d done everything he could to make sure that I did well in life: sent me to the right schools, kept me on the straight and narrow for the majority of my teens, but I’d always known any career that he deemed respectful would be utterly against everything that I had running inside me.

I was passionate, sexy, and I loved my body. And hell if I wasn’t going to use it to my advantage.

His full name, Theodore Wolsey Reagan, was a mouthful, pretentious down to the last syllable, but he was my father—stuck in his old-fashioned ways, left to raise a daughter in the only way he thought best. It’s not his fault I turned out the way I did. It’d always been inside me, this desire to be wild… like my mom. But I wasn’t about to let my life choices affect our relationship. I don’t think I could stand seeing the look of disappointment and revulsion on his face. And if his colleagues ever got wind of it, he’d be a laughing stock.

So I kept up the pretence. I kept selling my little range of cosmetics, and it was nice to see him so proud of my efforts.

My phone rang, the sound emanating from the turquoise Birkin bag by my side.

The Judge frowned at me. Mobile phones were strictly forbidden at the table. Friday evenings were reserved for family.

“Sorry, Daddy. I must have forgotten to turn it to silent.”

He grunted and picked up his knife and fork again to continue eating while I dug around in my purse. I risked a few seconds’ glance at the screen and knew from the caller ID that it was urgent.

“I have to take this, Daddy. It’s important.”

I’d come up with a proper excuse after the call, but in the meantime I pushed back my chair and quickly escaped his glowering.

I answered as soon as I reached a quiet spot and shut the door to my father’s study.

“Thea, we have a special request tonight,” the caller informed me. A female voice, soft, and by the sounds of it, desperate for my help. Before I could answer, Roísín continued, “I know it’s supposed to be your night off, but there’s no one else.”

I sighed. I could play this to my advantage, I thought.

“I’m not sure I can. What time?” I said regretfully.

“9pm.”

I hummed, pretending that I was thinking about the offer. But Roísín and I both knew that I never, not even once, declined an appointment.

“Double my fee, and I’ll clear my plans for the evening.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Thea,” she replied, grateful that I’d saved her bacon. In our business clients were everything, and one bad experience had the potential to make things very sour indeed.

We relied on word of mouth; there were no tacky advertisements placed in newspapers or online. And it was very important that the information was passed to and from the right people, too. The right kind of clientele with the right kind of bank balance to match.

I ended the call and slid back into my seat at the dining table. I resisted the urge to explain my absence or even explain why I’d have to leave early. Curiosity would get the better of them. The Judge hated being out of the loop; not having all of the facts would niggle away at him until he got frustrated and demanded to know what was going on. And of course, once he asked, god forbid you don’t tell him. It would drive him to distraction!

Slicing a piece of beef and spearing it with my fork along with a small piece of roasted carrot, I waited and took a bite without making eye contact with either of them, as if the call hadn’t even occurred.

Out the corner of my eye I saw the Judge lower his cutlery to his plate and glance my way. I could feel the power of his glare boring into my neck. Any moment now, I thought.

“What was so important?”

I resisted the urge to smile.

“Sorry?” I replied, frowning my confusion.

“Don’t play the innocent with me, Thea. What was so important you had to interrupt our meal?”

“Oh, that? I was going to tell you later, but I’ll be needing to leave early tonight.”

“That’s a shame,” Lacy chirped in. “We hardly get to see you as it is.”

Oh, she was good, I thought, as I looked over at my step-mother. There was only a slight whiff of dishonesty, but it was there, just beneath her sweet smile. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.

The Judge grunted his agreement. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Oh no, it’s fine, thank you, Daddy. My friend from uni managed to get an earlier flight and is arriving tonight, is all. I promised to pick her up from the airport,” I said, hating the lie as soon as it was out of my mouth. They had a way of tripping you up when you least expected them to.

“Well, I don’t see why you have to go. Doesn’t this friend have legs? Surely she can make her way into the city herself? And save you driving all the way out there.”

“I don’t mind really, anyway, she’s staying with me.”

“You could send a car, Theo,” Lacy happily suggested. I shot a look at her but caught myself before she saw, changing my furious reaction to a sickly smile that matched her own.

“I could—”

“Oh, that’s so kind,” I interrupted, “but there really is no need. I’ll make it up to you both next week for ducking out early.”

“Very well, then.”

We continued to eat in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying the food their cook, Rachel, had prepared, before I folded my napkin and placed it back onto the table.

“I’d better be going if I’m going to get there in time,” I said as I pushed back my chair. “Thank you for the lovely meal, Lacy, and be sure to tell Rachel for me.”

Leaning down I gave my father a kiss on the cheek he presented, but before I could leave, he whipped out his hand and clamped it down upon my wrist. His breath, even and controlled, brushed past my ear.

“You’d better not be lying to me, young lady.”

M
y heart was fluttering fast
; the shock and adrenaline pumped around my body as I sat in the cold sanctuary of my car. Was my father starting to see through my little charade? Or was this just the Judge being the Judge? Sometimes I never could quite tell with him. Over the years I’d studied his ways, made careful note of how he acted, detecting and becoming an expert in his tonal inflections and movements. But there were times when he’d surprise me, just like tonight. Had I not been paying close enough attention? Was I slipping?

I held my wrist tenderly, feeling around the area where he’d gripped it and dug his nails in. I winced from the slight discomfort and the compressed bones beneath; there would be some slight bruising there come the morning.

Dread washed over me. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t find out. And not just because I didn’t want him to know, but I was afraid of what he might do.

I would be my mother, all over again—out in the cold. But still, I’d also vowed never to make her mistake; she’d let her life slip by, in part due to my father’s rules, allowing her dreams to dissipate into thin air, never able to grasp onto them or follow them to fulfilment. That part of my life I wouldn’t and couldn’t let my father control.