Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance Page 2

  “But Justine—”

  “No.”

  “He looked up to you,” her mother said pathetically. “You were close.”

  Next time I come, I'm going to be inside you.

  “Really?” Jay said, in a calm, alien voice. “Close? Is that what you think we were?”

  “Please, Justine. You're the only one who could control him.”

  What's the matter, little bird? Didn't work when you ran to Daddy? But then he's not your Daddy, is he?

  “Not even I could do that,” Jay said, only a little faintly now. In her periphery, the corners of the room seemed to be going dark. “Good luck with the case if you pursue it.”

  “Justine! You're being ridiculous. It's a lot of money and I can't just—”

  I'll be your Daddy. You can tell me what's bothering you and I'll make it all better.

  Jay hung up the phone.

  He was coming for her. There was no doubt in her mind of it now. Oh, God.

  She'd always wondered if her mother had known what had been going on between her and Nicholas. Damon had known—the sick fuck had even encouraged it, in his way—but she had let herself believe that her mother maybe hadn't seen the way Nicholas looked at her. The way he always contrived to get her alone.

  Now, Jay wondered—at what her mother might have known, at her willingness to sell her out. Even though her mother had made a career of stripping, Jay had never once thought of her mother as a whore until now.

  Everyone has their price. I wonder what yours is.

  Jay pressed play for the remaining messages on the machine with an attempt at calm. The next one was a voter survey. She deleted it, breathing more evenly still, knowing that the calm was transient, and would fade when the effects of the alcohol did. Next one, she thought.

  And the phone fell from her nerveless fingers when she heard his voice fill her room.

  “Hello, little bird,” she heard him say, in a voice as textured as raw silk, “I'm sure by now you've heard from your mother about how she's been disinherited from my father's will. I'm sure you also know that neither of you have a chance in hell of fighting me on this—” there was a sound like a smothered laugh, as if he knew she would be afraid and reveled in it “—I am, however, open to negotiation with you. I'll be in town tomorrow afternoon, and I was thinking about stopping by for drinks at Bana. Come find me there. I'll be waiting.”

  There was a click and the line went dead.

  Yes, everyone had their price. As Jay replaced the phone with a trembling hand, listening to the sound of her own rapid breathing, she couldn't help wondering if she were about to find hers.

  Chapter Two

  2017

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  Jay woke up to heavy gray skies and a cat kneading her stomach. For a heartbeat, the day was a day like any other and she couldn't quite figure out why her nerves were all lighting up as if she had been plugged into a live socket. And then she remembered—little bird.

  He was coming to her office today because she'd scheduled the damn appointment. Why had she done that? She should have canceled it, claimed it was an accident. He would never know.

  I could call in sick, she thought, lifting Carbon off her body and setting him on the floor. She was rarely sick. Her mother used to tell her snidely that she was as “healthy as a horse” when she was younger, usually following it with “and you have the appetite of one.” Nobody was going to come after her for missing one day. She could make it rain PTO if she wanted.

  But could she do that to Lily? To Owen? She only had so many hours of time off and they had to last her the entire year. Plus, she had scheduled Nick's appointment so late that, even if he arrived early, she'd already be on her way home, with him being none the wiser.

  Her mother had been wrong about her ability to control Nick, but she did know how to handle him. He was so used to getting what he wanted that defiance always caught him off guard. Jay supposed that was what happened when you grew up with a bastard of a father who expected you to ask “how high?” whenever he said “jump.”

  Jay pulled on a shapeless sweater, pairing it with a pair of tweed pants and her boots. She looked at her reflection, frowned, and added a pair of chandelier earrings. As she ate a bowl of cooked spelt berries, she Googled herself, as she often did, before placing a rush order for her new phone, and then grabbing her iPod and heading out to catch the train.

  Just a normal day, she told herself. Relax. At least it isn't raining this time.

  She just barely made the Northbound heading into the city. Her limbs somehow felt heavy and jittery all at once. She hated the crowded trains, the constant sensation of being groped. She hated that losing her Clipper card meant paying for a ticket with cash, which meant long lines and an anxious wait. Vanessa Carlton was blasting in her ears but not even that could cover the screech of the train on the tracks or the shouted curses of the homeless man in the back.

  “Trying out a new look?” Lily asked, when Jay hung her coat up on the hook. As usual, she looked flawless and put together in an A-line skirt with a bow and a pressed floral blouse.

  “It's cold,” said Jay, by means of explanation. “And it's laundry day, Ms. Fashion Goals.”

  “It looks very cozy,” Lily said, a little mischievously, and Jay sighed. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Jay glanced at the clock on her computer. “I love you.”

  “I'm taken.” She held up a hand, baring a silver ring. “By the BTS Army.”

  Jay rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means.”

  “Oh my God,” said Lily. “I never got you into K-Pop? I am the worst friend ever.”

  When Owen Parker and Sheridan Hawthorne walked back in from wining and dining their clients, Blood Sweat & Tears was playing and Lily was demonstrating dance moves with fist pumps and shoulder rolls. It was during one of these latter that Lily saw their bosses entering the building and Jay wondered if she had gotten whiplash. I didn't know the human neck could turn so fast, she thought, fighting back a giggle as Lily turned bright red.

  “Good morning, Mr. Parker, Ms. Hawthorne. How are you?”

  Sheridan coughed, like she was trying to muffle a laugh, while Owen said only, “Good afternoon, girls. Ms. Varens, did I get any calls?”

  “No, Mr. Parker. There have been no new calls, although you have an appointment at four.”

  “Very good.”

  Jay leaned over and quickly switched off the music while the two executives resumed chatting on the slow walk back to their offices, although she noticed Owen looking back at her over his shoulder with raised brows. She smiled guiltily.

  “Ah!” Lily tugged at her skirt, smoothing it. “Why didn't you say something?”

  “Because I didn't see them,” Jay said, turning towards her. “I was looking at you.”

  “I am so embarrassed. I need to recover my dignity.” Lily fanned her face. “I am going to drown my sorrows in the bottom of a poke bowl. Want to come with? They have a tofu option.”

  “Not today,” said Jay. “I'm working through lunch. How about tomorrow?”

  “I'm always up for lunch with you, boo.” A look of concern crossed her face as she snagged her purse off her desk. “Don't work yourself too hard, though. Okay?”

  “I promise,” said Jay. “I'll swan about and do nothing but make coffee.”

  “Atta girl.” Lily clicked her tongue while making finger guns, which made Jay laugh again as she watched her friend skip down the stairs and out the door, leaving her alone in the front office with her thoughts and the clock. 2:45. She had forty-five minutes to go.

  It's too quiet. She turned on some quiet music and got up to scan some documents for one of Owen's meetings to the sweetly wistful strains of Rachael Yamagata. Even though their company was trying to go paperless, many of their clients still wanted hard copies to take notes on. She needed twenty, but the copier had different ideas.

  “Out of paper?” Jay muttered to herself. “You have paper,
you greedy son of a bitch.” She filled the tray and pressed buttons, swearing when it spat out three badly blurred copies.

  Maybe she needed to fill the other tray? While she was lifting the rear compartment, she heard the door chime and the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs. Now who might that be? Jay wondered, after another compulsive glance at her watch. Maybe someone looking for the bakery next door.

  But then Jay saw the blurred reflection of the person on the polished stone tile—swirls of gray and black, like Lily's skirt and hair—and she turned with a smile. “Back so soon, Lily? Maybe you can help me tame this ink spewing . . .”

  Her eyes drifted up and the papers fell in a scatter over the floor.

  “Monster,” she finished, voice just above a whisper.

  He stalked closer and his shiny brogues echoed off the tile like the reports of a rifle being fired. Nick, she thought, and something curdled inside her under that deliberate stare. He stopped a few feet away and his eyes dropped insolently, taking her in, before going to the scattered papers.

  What the hell was he doing here so early? Had he known she was going to run? Oh, God, he probably had. She should have called in sick. She should have—

  His coat flared out, drawing her eyes back to him as he bent to one knee to pick up her scattered papers. She could see the fabric of his shirt undulate as his arms moved, hinting at the heavy muscle beneath. In her memories, and her thoughts, Nick had always been a boy: a cruelly intense boy, mired in the kind of brooding sullenness that eventually become self-indulgent and callous, but a boy, nonetheless.

  He wasn't a boy anymore.

  Still on the floor, he paused before rising, and when he lifted his head, she felt his breath stir through her pantleg. The coldness inside her body solidified, becoming pure ice as awareness of what their respective positions would look like to anyone passing by drove into her with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, making her stumble back drunkenly.

  It's really him, she thought, when he handed her the files. At 6'4”, he was one of the few people she had to look up at. She didn't look up, though. She refused to give him that pleasure. Instead, she stared at his throat, clutching the papers to her breast.

  “Nick.”

  “Blue jay.” He reached out—to touch her hair? Her earrings?—and Jay scooted another step back. His smile hardened as he let his hand fall. “You haven't changed at all.”

  “Mr. Parker is in a meeting.” She was proud of herself. Her voice didn't even shake. “Do you need help with something?”

  That cold gaze flicked over her again and she was very glad for the acrylic sweater's thick, shapeless warmth when his eyes lingered briefly on her breasts. “Are you his little secretary? That's so cute. I'm meeting with him at four.”

  “I'm an administrative assistant.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “His administrative assistant. And if your appointment isn't until four, why are you even here?”

  “Because you also have an appointment with me.” Nicholas took another step closer and Jay felt the copy machine hit her back. It let out an indignant beep, making her jump.

  “I can't go out for drinks now,” she said. “I'm still working.”

  Another step. “When do you get off?”

  Jay looked away, staring at her desk like it was the most interesting place in the world as she tried not to let his suggestively-phrased question get to her. “Five.”

  “How convenient. That's when my meeting ends.”

  I know, thought Jay, and her heart gave a traitorous thud. I scheduled it.

  “Bana at five.” He shifted and Jay's eyes swung over to him in alarm. If he took one more step, their bodies would be touching. “I'm looking forward to it.”

  Jay bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

  Nicholas studied her for a moment longer as the now-working copier revved at her back. She was debating on whether she ought to fake him out or run for it when he abruptly angled himself away. “I'm going out for a brief walk. I'll be back in time for the meeting.”

  Jay watched him stalk away; he left right as Lily was coming back in. She glanced up at Nicholas and said something to him—“I'm sorry” or “excuse me” or “you go ahead”—as if reality had diverged and he were just some ordinary guy and not . . . himself.

  “I got you a matcha latte with soy milk because I'm awesome—they didn't have oat. What are you—” Lily's eyes scrolled down abruptly and she continued, in an entirely different tone of voice, “What are you doing down there on the floor, Jay?”

  Her legs had finally given out. “I fell.” Her voice sounded rusty. “It's these new boots. The soles are slippery,” she added lamely, clutching her bundle of papers tighter.

  Lily didn't say anything else as she set the drinks and food down on her desk. “Are you all right?” she asked gently, bending down. “Did something happen while I was gone? Was it that guy?”

  “No.” Jay got up and sat at her desk. “I really did fall. I'm actually feeling a little dizzy. I think—I think I might sneak out early today.”

  “That's what happens when you don't eat lunch, Jay.” Lily winked, though her face was drawn. She obviously didn't believe the lie. “Don't worry, I won't tell.”

  They worked in silence for a while but Jay could sense Lily glancing over at her every so often, which made her even more self-conscious. Her hands were visibly shaking and she kept her wrists pressed against the desk as she typed, trying to control her breathing.

  I'll leave when he gets back. She took a sip of her matcha tea and froze with the straw still in her mouth.

  Nicholas walked back in. His eyes went to Lily, who was eyeing him with suspicion, and then to her, his expression darkly amused. “I'm here to see Mr. Parker. Is he ready for me?”

  Are you ready for me, Jay?

  Aware of Lily watching, Jay pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Beaucroft's here, Owen.”

  She glanced at Nicholas and wished she had not when she saw the look on his face. The heat in it was blistering. Oh yes, she knew that look, just as she knew exactly what would happen if she went with him for drinks. Jay sat straighter, locking her back against the building shudder.

  You're Daddy's little bird.

  “Great, Jay,” Owen was saying, oblivious. “Go ahead and send him in.”

  Jay gestured at the door and caught a whiff of citrus as he swept by her, shooting her another one of those glances as he went, and then the door closed and the world was moving again and Jay was on her way out the door, running like her life depended on it.

  She didn't feel safe until she was speeding away on the train.

  At home, she sat on her sofa with Carbon next to her, nibbling at a tahini-spread wrap she'd filled with fresh lettuce and fried cauliflower. Her thoughts were becoming more defined, more reasonable, as her panic cleared, and she realized that she might have made a big mistake.

  Nicholas would be very angry when he realized she wouldn't be coming. He didn't like being outmaneuvered and he would probably take it as a challenge. She eyed the phone warily, as if it were a coiled serpent, bracing herself for the ring, for the sound of his voice.

  How had she gotten into this mess? Why couldn't she just have a normal life? She'd gone from spending her adolescence doing her homework by the flickering lights in a seedy strip club's dressing room, only to be hurled into the other wild extreme: a deceptively picturesque beachside locale whose lurid opulence and tranquil waters were all lined with vicious, sharp-edged teeth.

  Mentally, she included her mother in that latter category, still stinging from the betrayal. How could she have tried to sell her out to Nick, of all people?

  Of course, it was a lot of money, she conceded bitterly. Millions of dollars, probably. Her mother liked her as much as she liked anyone, she just liked money more. It wasn't personal—it never was, not even when it should have been. Jay wasn't sure what her mother had been slated to inherit, but she guessed it was either a quarter or half of whatever Damon owned
. Wasn't that typical for spouses with adult children? She really didn't know much about probate.

  Damon had made a career out of making people rich, and it had made him rich, as well. His house had been huge. The master bath alone had been as big as the one-bedroom she'd shared with her mom in the Tenderloin. You could get lost in there; she had gotten lost. Sometimes it felt like she was still lost, stuck in that house, always running, always trying to stay one foot ahead.

  She had never been comfortable there. People had accepted her because they were afraid of her stepfather and because they thought she was pretty, but she had always been looking over her shoulder, consciously aware of how easily everything she'd worked for could be torn down.

  It turns out, most people find perfection really fucking annoying.

  Here, in a tiny studio apartment in the Mission, she had carved out a niche for herself. It was hers, and everything she had now, she had gotten independently without any handouts. Her life was modest. She had given up the trappings of wealth and excess when she ran, selling off what remained of her jewelry, living within her means, and she was perfectly comfortable with that—

  Until Nick had found her.

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  She's not coming.

  Nicholas had suspected she wouldn't be ever since he had come out of that intolerably dull meeting and seen the empty chair, her dark monitor. The Asian girl at the other desk had given him a look, like she knew where he had buried all the bodies. He wondered what Jay had said to her, if anything, about the meeting. She had never been the type to open up and confide in others.

  What a passionate and achingly lonely girl she had been—so bitter beneath the sweet. She might have changed, but Nicholas didn't think so. Not after hearing the music she'd been playing in the office or hearing her swear softly at the copier. Not after seeing how quickly that bright smile had withered or how her eyes had filled with fear upon glimpsing him.

  Her hands had actually trembled when he'd handed her those papers. Did she think he'd been planning on dragging her down to the floor and fucking her in that sterile little office of hers? Did she remember how he liked to fuck? Maybe that's what made her run. He smiled grimly, running a hand along his unshaven jaw. Foolish girl. She knew he loved the chase.