Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2)

by Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by:

  Amy Briggs

  Kristi Falteseik

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on your personal e-reader.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  * * *

  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Contents

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  1. Nyx

  2. Nate

  3. Nyx

  4. Nate

  5. Nyx

  6. Nate

  7. Nyx

  8. Nyx

  9. Nate

  10. Nyx

  11. Nyx

  12. Nate

  13. Nate

  14. Nyx

  15. Nyx

  16. Nyx

  17. Nyx

  18. Nyx

  19. Nyx

  20. Nate

  21. Nyx

  22. Nate

  23. Nate

  24. Nate

  25. Nyx

  26. Nyx

  27. Nyx

  28. Nyx

  29. Nyx

  30. Nate

  31. Nyx

  32. Nate

  33. Nate

  34. Nate

  35. Nate

  36. Nyx

  37. Nate

  38. Nyx

  39. Nate

  40. Nyx

  41. Nate

  42. Nate

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Wrong Text, Right Love

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series

  * * *

  Loved You Once

  A Moment Like You

  Defying Our Forever

  October 2020

  Call You Mine

  February 2021

  As We Are

  June 2021

  Yours to Keep

  September 2021

  * * *

  Against All Odds Series

  * * *

  Wrong Text, Right Love

  Didn’t Expect You

  Love Like Her

  March 2021

  * * *

  Second Chance Sinners

  Pieces of Us

  April 2021

  Somehow Finding Us

  May 2021

  * * *

  Standalones

  * * *

  Us After You

  Almost Perfect

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Someday, Somehow

  Chasing Fireflies

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  * * *

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  * * *

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Decker the Halls

  To Patricia, thank you for all your support and love.

  “Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.” —Helen Keller

  One

  Nyx

  All my adult life I’ve been fighting to be somewhat normal. To be the most conventional one in the family—or the only one for that matter.

  My parents are…different. My three siblings… Well, they aren’t like our parents, but they stand out easily in any crowd. Not me. Or at least I try to stay away from people’s radars, unlike them.

  While we were growing up, my parents believed we could learn more from the world than in a classroom. Were they right?

  The jury is still out deliberating.

  One thing I can say is that my dad is one of the wisest, most clueless men in the world. I understand how ambiguous that sounds, but my father isn’t like any conventional sixty-three-year-old guy. Octavio Brassard is unique among any men. He lives by his own rules and has a license to teach young adults about ancient civilizations.

  According to Dad, we’re here to learn how to love, how to live, and how to preserve this world. Not that we, the human race, are doing a great job at any of those things. He insists that the most important moments in our life happen unexpectedly. That’s why we have to stop and smell the roses. Maybe one of those special moments is the one that transforms our lives.

  In that split second, we could find our destiny.

  He’s a philosopher, a poet, and one of the most loving people I know. He pushes us, his children and students, to believe in ourselves and always pursue our dreams. Take life by the balls. And no, my father doesn’t believe in censoring our language.

  Something else I learned from my parents is that family comes before anything and everyone.

  This is why I’m spending my weekend working with my oldest brother, Eros, who like my father, is a dreamer. He doesn’t like to think much about the bottom line, rather what he can do to change the world.

  “I could be with Persy drinking margaritas,” I protest, as I go through the partnership proposal he received from LNC Investments.

  I could spend my time with my sister, who I haven’t seen that much during the past couple of months.

  “Persy is actually drinking some strawberry lager Dad made,” he corrects me. “It tastes like fruity shit.”

  I glare at him. “I like fruity shit.”

  “Fruity doesn’t mean refined,” he informs me. “You two need to learn to drink better brands and less sugar.”

  Sighing, I finish reading the contract. We’re never going to agree on the subject. He thinks spending a thousand dollars on a bottle of single malt is better than drinking margaritas. We’ll have to agree to disagree.

  “Listen, you shouldn’t be signing this,” I suggest. “Persy and I will amend her book deal and—”

  “It’s going to take me years to recover her investment,” he interrupts me. “These guys don’t need the money right away. She does.”

  He is right. Our sister lent him her savings. The amount included the advance she received from Blackst
one and Morgan Press, the publishing company that bought the rights to her next book. A book she doesn’t want to write because it’s off-brand and forcing her to divulge more about her life on social media than she usually does. I’m trying to fix her current contract so she can change the title and the subject. But if we can’t come to an agreement, she’ll have to give the money back so I can terminate the contract.

  I sigh.

  “Thirty-five percent is a lot,” I say, changing the argument as I continue reading through the partnership proposal. “We need to negotiate the terms before you sign anything. I understand that they are practically financing the entire operation, but…”

  I pull out a calculator and run some numbers. “You’re not earning any money for at least five years. Where are you supposed to live and what are you going to eat?”

  “Funny that you mention this,” he says, giving me his boyish grin. “You have an extra room in your house.”

  “No!” I answer with determination.

  I have two guest rooms. I love my siblings, but I can only stand living with them for so long. Just earlier this year, Persy stayed with me for almost six months and even when we had fun, we both concur that we needed our own place. We’re too old to have roommates. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to live with Eros for five years—or until he gets his shit together. I’m going to become his maid, parent, and… No, thank you.

  “Nyx, at least let me explain my plan to you.” His pleading voice doesn’t change my mind. In fact, I cross my arms. “I sell my place—”

  “You have two mortgages on that house. You owe more than you’ll get for it. You have to be sensible about your finances,” I remind him, shaking my head. “Why do I always have to sound like the oldest one in this family?”

  He shrugs. “You always liked to boss me around while we were growing up. Show that you were responsible. It’s your thing. Just like Persy likes to analyze people. I watch over you three.”

  He’s right. That’s been our dynamic since we were kids. It might have to do with the way we were raised. Our baby sister, Calliope, doesn’t fit in this dynamic, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like us so much.

  “No, we’re going to go back to these Chadwick brothers and we’re going to cut you a deal that will be beneficial for everyone,” I state. “Do we have an understanding?”

  He salutes me. “You’re the boss.”

  There’s this idea that the person we become is partly defined by the order in which we come into our family. It’s part of the sibling hierarchy. The oldest becomes the teacher to the rest of the siblings. Whoever established that theory didn’t know the Brassard siblings. We are four, one brother and three sisters. Eros is the oldest. I’m the second out of four. Then comes my sister, Persy, and Calliope is the baby.

  In theory, Eros should be our teacher. The one who takes care of us. Most days I’m the one who is rescuing everyone and saving them from not fucking up their lives. Maybe it has to do with my parents’ philosophy. They believe that making mistakes is what forges our character. I keep telling them that there are mistakes, and then there are times when people should avoid failing. Letting others commit errors so you can learn isn’t always smart. What if it’s something that can bankrupt us, get us thrown in jail, or kill us?

  Earlier today it was my brother. Thankfully, I was able to change the original partnership he was about to sign, and he got to save his home.

  More like, I won’t be having him as a roommate, and we won’t end up killing each other because he’s a slob.

  Now, I’m on my way to talk some sense into Calliope. Most days I’m thankful for Persy. She’s not only the most down to earth of my siblings, but she’s also my best friend. Maybe the whole theory about birth order has some truth to it. She’s only ten months younger than me. We have a connection like not many do. We understand each other, and sometimes we even guess how the other one is feeling.

  As I’m about to ring the doorbell to the apartment complex where Callie lives, there’s a person coming out who lets me in and even smiles. I blink a couple of times and shrug. What happened to security? I climb the stairs to the fourth story and knock on the door.

  A male voice answers, “In a minute.”

  Not sure if the guy understands how long a minute is because only two seconds later the door opens. It’s a tallish guy. By tallish I mean under six feet, lanky, and in a dire need of a trim. No, I don’t have anything against guys who have long hair. There are some that look hotter with a mane. This guy though, he needs…a shower, a brush, and clean clothes.

  “We didn’t order take out,” he says.

  “I’m here to see Calliope, my sister,” I inform him.

  “Cal?” he asks and studies me. “You kind of look like her, but uptight.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No, she moved out a week ago,” he states.

  “Who are you?”

  “Ron,” he answers. “I’m subleasing this place.”

  Subleasing the place? I’m blown away by those three words. She’s not allowed to do that. Did he even sign a contract? Because I don’t remember signing one where I agreed to let this man live in this apartment. I take a deep breath and ask calmly, “Did she leave you a forwarding address?”

  He shakes his head. “No. You should talk to your sister, not me.”

  I hate to agree with him, but there’s nothing I can say to him that’ll make this right. Other than kicking him out of the place because technically he is living here without my consent.

  “Thank you, I appreciate your time,” I say and leave.

  On my way to the car, I dial Callie’s number. She sends me to voicemail, so I try again, again, and again until she finally answers, “What do you want?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Far away from you,” she states.

  Why do you always have to answer like a petulant fifteen-year-old? I want to protest, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “I take it you made the decision to move out of the state. Did it occur to you to tell us about it?”

  “As I said the last time we spoke, I’m done with your meddling,” she comments. “In fact, I’m done with you. Lose my number.”

  “Well then, when will you be sending me the money I loaned you to buy your car and the deposit to rent the apartment where this Ron character lives?” I question. “Furthermore, this apartment is under my name too, and I didn’t sign any agreement to sublease the place to him. My name is on that leasing contract.”

  “If I were Persy, you would’ve helped me move. Instead, you’re demanding money that I don’t have,” she argues. “It’s a verbal contract which should be binding. He is good for it. Don’t worry about what can happen to your precious name.”

  I sigh. “That argument is so old it doesn’t have the same effect. Calliope, our parents are going to be heartbroken and worried if you don’t tell them where you are. At least give them a courtesy call.”

  “They are the reason I’m running away from this family. Have you realized that they aren’t normal? They embarrass us. While growing up, I could never bring friends to the house because I never knew what they would do,” she explains. “Please, don’t tell me you aren’t ashamed of them. How many times have you brought a boyfriend to the house? None, because you know it’s horrifying to introduce them to Octavio and Edna Brassard. And then, there’s Persephone. She’s a famous sexologist.”

  Our parents are unique. Yes, they can be a handful and we have to control their narrative sometimes. However, I’ll take those two above many other parents who are abusive, neglectful, or plain. Persy is an influencer, a therapist, and yes, she markets herself as a sexologist. There’s nothing wrong with her career. I’d be concerned if she was a criminal.

  “We never had normal,” she continues, and I laugh. “Stop laughing at me!”

  I clear my throat and say, “I laugh because you’re not making sense. You sound like a petulant child having a tantrum because you’re not getti
ng your way.”

  “You never take me seriously, Nyx. You think you are the smartest one of us. Just because you have a fancy office, a nice house, and a luxury car, you think that you are better than us. You are not!”

  “Callie, stop while you’re ahead,” I warn her.

  “You’re upset because I’m telling you the truth. And the truth always hurts. You’re pathetic, Nyx. Your life is fucking sad. Just boring and plain like you.”

  She’s not wrong about being boring or having a life. I’m nothing like Persy or her. One thing I hate about my baby sister is that when she strikes, she hits where it hurts the most.

  “Listen, Callie, we love you even when you’re rude to us because you are our little sister. I stopped liking you a long time ago. You became this entitled woman that I can’t stand, and you know what…I’m done being the one trying to keep this family together,” I say. “Not only that, I’m done with you. If you want to play martyr and tell the world that you escaped your crazy family, that’s up to you. Just don’t come back groveling for money.”

  I hang up and fire up a text to Persy.