Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1)

by Winston, Lexie

  "Bradley gets overwhelmed easily too, and he has a signal that the kids know. If he does it, whoever is with him has to send a text message to one of the others to call him so he can excuse himself from whatever he is doing.”

  I look at my dad, and he's shuffling his feet, not looking at me. "Some of those meetings are so tedious," he complains, and when he does meet my gaze, there's a twinkle in his eye. I don't think my dad is as socially inept as everyone thinks he is. I think he's just a brilliant man who knows how to get out of boring meetings, but I’ll keep his secret for him. I continue to study his face as he looks at mine, and then he winks slowly. Yeah, that's what I thought.

  "How about if she pulls her hair back in a ponytail?" Nana suggests, gesturing to the elastic band around my wrist. I'd left it out for the plane trip but still put one on my wrist just in case. Looking down at my comfy leggings and oversized off the shoulder sweater, I kind of wish I’d worn something a little dressier now, but Nana insisted I was fine.

  “Good plan?” Brad looks at me for confirmation, and I agree. “Alright, then.” He pushes open the door, and we’re greeted by another long-stretching corridor with a few closed doors on either side. We walk the length until we get to the end where it opens out into a wide spacious living area. He’s slightly in front of me, but as he steps to the side I can see a comfortable-looking open plan living area. But what draws my notice are the seven adults seated in various places throughout it. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach rolls with nerves as goosebumps prickle my skin. Now I really wish I had worn something fancy because I feel like I just stepped onto the set of The Vampire Diaries. So many beautiful, lethal-looking people, and all their eyes are on me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Harlow

  With so many eyes on me my nerves are getting the best of me. My crutches dig into my armpits as I lean heavier on them in a subconscious attempt to make myself smaller, trying to be more easily overlooked, a throwback to some of my worst nights with Diane. Cringing internally, I hate that I’ve instinctively dropped back into those self-defense measures again. I don’t know where to look, so I settle for the only pair of feminine eyes and give a slight smile. They're aquamarine and so similar to ones I've seen recently but can’t place. This must be Jacinta, and she’s even prettier in person than she was in the photos Max showed me, something I hadn’t thought possible. Her familiar frosty blue eyes sit under perfectly sculpted black eyebrows that match her long black hair. Thick straight bangs frame her naturally pale face, which has perfect cheekbones and pouty red lips. She’s like the embodiment of Snow White, and she’s looking me up and down with a frown. From the haughty look on her face, I don’t measure up to her standards.

  Brad finally steps forward after what seems like hours but is probably only seconds. "Harlow, I'd like you to meet my kids. This is Jacinta, Thomas, Declan, Oliver, Holden, Kai, and Jaxon." My eyes swing from one to another, not really taking them in until I get to the final figure, and my heart skips a beat.

  Those familiar turquoise eyes are looking at me, and I finally put two and two together, feeling incredibly stupid all of a sudden. Jaxon, of course. I smile at him in the hope I have one friend, but he just sneers at me, and when he opens his mouth, his voice carries enough venom to strike me down if the crutches weren’t insisting I stay upright.

  "Wow, you really had me fooled. Pretending you didn't know who I was when I guess you had targeted me all along." His words spear an arrow straight through my heart, and I visibly flinch, hating that this situation is now even more awkward than it would have been otherwise. Brad inhales deeply next to me in surprise, but I think he’s frozen in shock as he doesn’t come to my rescue, or I hope that’s the reason. Looking down at the floor, I have to swallow the tears that suddenly well up. Not wanting to need Brad for assistance, I take a deep breath, push the sadness and heartbreak down, and pull up my old friend, anger.

  Before I can say anything, he hurls another barb in my direction. “What did you do? Research us online? Maybe you pumped your foster parents for details on us. Or even Nana and Poppy. You’ve got them so blinded that they never even considered you had an alternative agenda. Found out about the club and weaseled your way to the VIP area in the hope you would meet one of us?” The poison he’s spouting is irrational and feverish; the glint in his eye manic. His anger radiates from him and is echoed by the look in his siblings’ faces. All of them eye me as if I’m a snake in the Garden of Eden, and by the time he finishes his tirade, I’m practically vibrating. My emotions on a hair trigger, and I’ve completely switched into fight mode, no part of me thinking how I can solve this smoothly.

  Looking him in the eye, I fire my attack right back at him. "Are you fucking stupid? You approached me with your lame ass pick up lines. I thought you were just interested in my tattoos, and I walked away. You chased me after that. Also, I didn’t find out any of this until days after I’d left the club. That emergency I was called away to was my dead mom.” He flinches at my words, but his gaze doesn’t soften at all. “So how about you pull your overinflated ego out of your ass because you’re not that hot.”

  A snort escapes one of the others, but I don't know who, and I don't care. Just as I’m about to ask Nana to show me to my room so I can breathe, another woman enters the room. This one has her long chestnut hair pulled back into a bun and is wearing a pencil skirt and jacket that emphasize her rail-thin body. She’s holding an iPad in her hand.

  "Oh goody, is this another one of your kids who’s going to accuse me of being a gold-digging whore?" I wave my hand in her direction, throwing my words at Brad, who’s red with embarrassment and shooting a look of fury at Jaxon. The woman gasps and holds a hand up to her chest like I’ve offended her, but I’m at that no fucks left to give stage. Huh, that didn't take long.

  "No, this is my PA, Cecelia." He holds out a hand for the envelope she’s carrying under the iPad, and she passes it to him with a smile before looking down on me with a frosty smile. Yeah, she’s not going to be an ally either.

  "I organized for you to have a card linked to our accounts and a credit card set up in your name." At Brad’s words, Poppy just groans, and my mouth drops open in disgust.

  "Are you serious?" He nods his head, looking pleased with himself and definitely not hearing the anger in my voice. I gesture around the room in disbelief. "I can tell by the looks on every one of your kids’ faces that they think I'm doing this for money. God, one of them just accused me of stalking him! It's a look I’m familiar with. One I faced every day from the kids at school while growing up with the Bostons. I was always the poor junkie’s daughter, being looked after by the wealthy family. And you think handing me cards with my name on them is the right thing to do?" My head is full of steam now, and Bradley just has unfortunate timing, but he's going to wear it all. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself so I don’t scream at them all. I knew it was going to be bad, but never had I considered that it was going to be like this.

  With deadly, deceiving calm, I sneer at him. "You can take those cards and shove them up your ass. I don’t need your money, nor do I want it. I came in the hope of getting to know you and possibly your kids. I can see now that the kids want nothing to do with me, and that’s fine. I couldn't care less either way." I hope they can’t hear the lies in my voice as my eyes look round the room at all the handsome faces with cold eyes.

  They're not willing to give me a chance; I should’ve guessed they weren't ever going to. Inside, my heart breaks in two, but I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Ignoring the stretched out hand and Brad’s incredulous and wounded face, I turn to Nana and Poppy. Before I can say anything, Poppy is hustling me into his arms. Not a moment later, after looking at his grandchildren in disgust, he helps me out of the room. As we leave, I can hear Nana chastising the bunch of them. It’s sweet of her to try, but I’m feeling pretty hopeless about this whole situation. .

  "I am so very disappointed in all of you. I wa
nt you to think very carefully about your first few days here in this family and how that felt. Imagine if Poppy and I had been as unwelcoming as you all are and how that might have made you feel. And Jaxon, I am so ashamed of you right now. I don't know where all that venom is coming from, but you need to take a good hard look at yourself. I've known Harlow for many, many years now, and she has never been one to approach a boy. Maxine was always lamenting her lack of game." I shudder in embarrassment as Nana overshares, but her voice fades as we move further away, and I’m relieved I don't have to hear the rest of it.

  As we walk back the way we’d come, Poppy doesn't say a word; he just holds me tight. He can feel me shaking with anger, and he's obviously learned that sometimes you just need to let a woman be. Nana has trained him well. On our way, we go out the door under the grand staircases, and an older gray-haired woman hurries up to us. She's plump and round, and with her rosy red cheeks, she could play Mrs. Claus just perfectly.

  "Harlow, this is our housekeeper and all-round lifesaver, Mrs. Hayton. Anything you need, she's the woman to speak to about it." Before I can say hello, Mrs. Hayton has pushed Poppy aside and wrapped me up in her arms, holding me tight.

  "Oh, my poor girl, thank goodness you were found! Anything you want, you just ask me. We've got you now." Her voice is gentle and kind, and a lump forms in my throat at her kind words. Her hug is exactly what I need right now, tight and reassuring. Tears start to stream down my face as this total stranger gives me the kind of welcome I wish I could’ve gotten from the people who’re supposed to be my new family.

  She pulls back, frowning when she sees them. "What is this? Who has made you cry already?" She has an accent, but I can't pick up from where. Maybe German? She starts to mutter in another language, and she stalks off in the direction of the room where we’d left my new venomous siblings. I go to stop her, but Poppy grabs hold of my arm.

  "I learned very early on that Gretchen is going to do her own thing, and we just need to let her be. Trust me, between her and Nana, those kids and Brad are going to have the hide torn off them. Come on, let’s go find your room."

  Beyond the staircase, on the right side, is a door leading to their wing. Again, I don't pay attention to my surroundings, my thoughts a violent storm of sadness and hurt that suck me in with no promise of letting go. I just make sure to look where I place my crutches to not damage anything on the way.

  "Nana asked for a bedroom on the ground floor for you, so you wouldn't have to worry about negotiating any more stairs," Poppy says, pushing open a door. "And this one has an exit out on the patio, too, so you don’t even have to go through the house if you don't want to." I step inside with a sigh of relief and lean my crutches against a wall. My shoulders and armpits ache, and I'm more than prepared to hobble around the room to give them a break.

  The room is decorated in happy lemon and cream colors and has a large king-sized bed with what looks like another quilt similar to the ones on the plane. This one has a cover that has daffodils on it, but that’s not what catches my attention. Laying directly in the center is a fluffy cream and brown cat that’s looking at us, her blue eyes blinking drowsily behind the chocolate mask her marking makes it look like she’s wearing.

  "Oh, aren't you a pretty thing," I coo, allowing my mind a reprieve from all the turmoil. Sitting gently on the bed, I reach a hand out and stroke it.

  "Don't ..." Poppy calls out, his voice laced with worry, but I pay no attention. Stroking between its ears, it starts to purr and nuzzle into my hand, so I move further down her body.

  "Well, I'll be!" Poppy’s exclamation sounds bewildered this time. "I'm not sure how she got in here; maybe one of the maids left the door open. That’s Princess, Declan's ragdoll, and she doesn't usually like anyone but him and the other grandkids. I’m afraid she’s even worse at the moment." Just as I stroke over her belly, I can tell why.

  "How far along is she?" I ask him as I gently stroke over her swollen belly.

  He shrugs. "Not sure, exactly, but Declan would know. It’s her first litter, so he's been pretty anal about the whole process." After one more pat, I leave her be. Declan Summers, the hardcore movie producer slash talent agent who has the ability to make or break a career. Who would’ve thought he would be into cats? I would have guessed he was a dog person myself. Or not into animals at all, seeing them as not worth the mess or irritation of looking after them. I guess we all have preconceived notions.

  Shaking my head, I push the curtains aside and let myself out onto the little outdoor patio. It’s covered with hanging honeysuckle, and the pretty cream blooms are heady with their intoxicating fragrance. Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, I take in my view. This room faces some wide open paddocks with a few trees clustered here and there. A herd of horses graze peacefully while a gentle afternoon breeze stirs the leaves on the trees. Poppy takes a seat next to me, and I breathe in the fresh country air and lean back on my chair.

  "I'm sorry, Harlow," he starts to apologize again, but I hold up my hand.

  "Don't. None of it is your fault. I was half-expecting it anyway." I sigh in frustration and disappointment, not satisfied with being right this time. We sit in silence for a while as the sun starts to set and the sky darkens. A noise inside my room has us both turning to see who it is, my body tightening for another attack, but it's just Nana. I guess she’s finally finished ripping her grandkids new ones.

  She slides into the remaining seat and blows out a deep breath. "Harlow, come in and have dinner. I promise it will be better." I snort at her declaration, and Poppy joins in. Before long, the both of us are laughing uncontrollably.

  Nana just huffs, exasperated at us both. "You don't need to be like that,” she complains.

  We sober ourselves up, and once I’ve caught my breath, I say to her, "I'm pretty sure it can’t get much worse than what it's already been."

  "Don’t be too sure," Poppy mutters, but I choose to ignore him. Getting up, I stretch my body, the pull of my muscles reviving me, and we walk back into the bedroom. Princess is still fast asleep on my bed, and I leave the door cracked open in case she needs to move.

  Grabbing my crutches, we head back toward the living area. Nana tells me they eat in a formal dining room on special occasions; otherwise, they usually just eat at a table in the living area. She turns and walks backward, so she’s facing me, her voice animated. "It’s been so long since we sat together as a family. The kids are always busy with their businesses these days, and I can't remember the last time we were all together like this. Although it's strained, I’m glad to see all my family in one place.” Her face is expressive and filled with joy even though I can see the toll the situation is taking in the lines around her eyes, and I feel sad that I have helped put them there.

  I don't say anything, and she turns around and continues leading the way. When we finally get to the dining room, my heart drops as I notice I'm the center of attention again. Everyone else is already seated, including Cecelia, the PA. Everyone's eyes turn to me as I hobble into the room behind Nana and Poppy. Not meeting anyone's gaze, I look for a place to put my crutches while we eat.

  Before I can do anything, one of the boys gets up and comes over to me. This one has reddish-brown hair that has a slight curl in it. His eyes are a vivid green, and the stubble on his face matches the hair on his head, maybe a little redder. He's wearing blue jeans and sneakers, with a long-sleeved Guinness t-shirt. He has a forced smile on his full lips as he reaches out to take my crutches from me. "Oh, uh, thank you..." Shit, I can’t remember who this one is. It all happened so fast, and Jaxon was the only one I’d paid attention to.

  "Thomas." His voice is a little gruff, and there's a faint accent. Ah, the airline magnate James was telling me about. He takes them over to a wall and leans them against it before returning to the table. Normally, I wouldn’t want them so far out of reach, but I guess I can’t cling to them if we’re all pretending to give this civil dinner a try. Poppy helps me over to a vacant
seat, and he and Nana sit on either side of me, comforting me with their mere closeness. As soon as I sit, Mrs. Hayton bustles into the room, followed by a couple of smartly dressed maids? Servants? Waiters? I don't know what to call them, but they’re placing plates of food on the table, and everyone starts to fill their plates.

  The room is filled with the sound of voices chatting, silverware banging on plates, and then the general commotion of a family dinner, but I just sit there. It's all a little overwhelming, and when I look up, I meet a smirking face and challenging brown eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. This one has an eyebrow piercing, and his pushed up sweater sleeves show off his impressive tattoos on each arm. On one arm it looks like he has the words ‘family first’ in a pretty black scroll followed by the black and green Neighpalm Industries symbol. On the other arm there looks to be a white tiger done in black ink, its bright blue eyes the only bit of color.

  "How did you hurt yourself, Harlow? Is it bad?" he asks, curiosity in his voice along with amusement. I bet he's expecting me to tell him I fell off a stripper pole or something.

  "Horse riding accident," I reply, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. What an asshole.

  "You ride?" he asks, disbelief entirely undisguised, and Nana snaps at him.

  "Oliver, you idiot, of course, she rides. Chuck and Melinda Boston are her foster parents. It wasn't just a horse-riding accident, Harlow, stop talking yourself down. She fell off while practicing a stunt for a new movie their horses are going to be in." Ah, of course, Oliver, the tattoo artist, the black sheep of the family. I can see how a reality show starring him might just sell tattoos, but I try not to let the appreciation show on my face. The gorgeous outside doesn't seem to be matching the shit-stirring inside.

  “You’re going to be in a movie?" a deep, sinful voice asks me from the end of the table. Turning, my eyes meet the piercing green eyes of Declan Summers, and my ovaries squeal in excitement. Holy crap, this is my adopted brother. Down, girls.