Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1)

by Winston, Lexie

  "I don't have anything to wear though," I tell her, getting excited at the thought of dressing up and going to a movie premiere even if it is with the siblings that loathe me.

  "Don't worry about that; I've pulled something from Jacinta's collection for you. You're practically the same size, and she’s never worn it, so it will be perfect."

  "Great, thank you. Oh, and Nana, can you tell me where I can get some riding clothes from? I didn’t think to bring any with me, and Brad and I are going riding in a couple of days, and Chuck's sending some horses that he needs me to work until the director is ready for them."

  "Oh, yes, dear, if you go to LA Riding Wear, we have an account there. Get what you need, or you can order online, and they'll deliver it tomorrow. I’ll message you the address."

  "Ok, thanks, Nana." She says goodbye and hangs up, leaving me looking at Alex, eyebrows raised.

  "Shane told you yesterday that someone always wants something from us and how nice it was just to be Alex and not 'Alexander the hottest thing since sliced bread.’" He laughs, but it's kind of awkward, so I jump out of my seat and give him a quick hug before going back to mine.

  “Yeah, I understand. It seems there’s a lot of that going around." I change the subject, wanting to give him some of the acceptance and relief that he’s given me in my short time of knowing him. "Alright, shall we try and find this LA Riding Wear or just order online?" He looks at the watch on his wrist, and my eyes get stuck on it. There’s something familiar about this now that I realize it’s a TAG watch.

  "Sure, we have time," he tells me, but my mind can’t seem to move on. I think back to the TAG ad campaign that Max and I had ogled over and over when she bought one for Chuck for Christmas last year.

  "Shit, you're the TAG guy! I rolled around on a bed, almost naked, with the TAG watch guy. Fuck me; I can't wait to tell Maxine! Do you think Shane would give me a copy of one of the shots where it looks like you're ready to ravish me? She’d be green with envy!" I'm babbling, and he cracks up, putting his hand out and grabbing hold of one of mine.

  "Girl, if it weren't for Jacinta, I’d be all over you. Why haven't you got a boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on?"

  Now it's my turn to blush with embarrassment. "To be honest, during high school, I was that charity case that the Bostons took in, and anyone who did try thought I was an easy lay like my mother, who had taken to whoring herself to pay for her next fix. It’s not like I had any close friends besides Max, but word still got out about where I’d come from. When you’re in one of those preppy schools surrounded by the kids of the 1%, privacy just doesn’t exist." His eyes fill with sympathy at my words, his hand squeezing mine a little harder. The little voice in my mind whispers that I can just stop there, but I ignore it and keep going. "I messed around during college, but with my course load, I didn't have time to be a committed, steady girlfriend, and that put guys off. I found a couple of regular booty calls for when I was horny; that worked well for all involved. None of us wanted the strings that came with a real relationship. I even had a threesome with two of them once when they both called me on the same night." I smile, thinking about how hot that night was. "That was fun, but that's all it was."

  "Are you sure there aren’t any other reasons for avoiding a real relationship?" he pushes, seeing deeper than I like or had honestly expected him to.

  "Yeah, I guess not wanting to get too attached to someone and get abandoned when they didn't like my long hours or the way I dress, or even the fact I'd prefer to stay home and watch movies than go out. Don't get me wrong, the occasional night out to drink and dance is fun, but I am much more of a homebody. Lots of guys don't like that at our age. They want to party hard and make the most of their youth." None of that appeals to me at all. I want someone who’s got their head on straight and knows exactly what they want from their lives. Someone who wants me as much as I want them. Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I drain the rest of my beer and throw my napkin on the table.

  "Come on, let's get out of here. We'll go and find the clothing store, and then you can take me home. I guess I should put in a little effort of my own with the family even though they’re all as prickly as cactuses.” Thankfully, he runs with the change in subject, and the two of us head back to the car. We find the address Nana sent us, and he drives me to the store, losing ourselves over the next hour as I try things on. Honestly, I didn't need to. I know what sizes I wear, but Alex wanted a show, so while he and the store clerk flirted, I tried on a few different pairs of breeches and boots and then paraded around the store.

  While strutting like I’m on a fashion runway, a saddle catches my attention. Walking up to it, I run my hands across the soft seat, breathing in the smell of quality leather. It's a hand-tooled, hand-stitched, black leather dressage saddle that I bet is as soft as butter on your ass. It has a beautiful fleur-de-lis motif stamped into the panels. It’s truly love at first sight, and I’m more tempted to buy it than I’ve been to get anything in a long time. Looking at the price tag has me gulping in shock and walking away. Yeah, with no horse to put it on, I can't justify that kind of money. I end up grabbing a couple of pairs of pants, one long and one short pair of boots with gaiters.

  The flirty clerk bags it all for me, but when I tell him to put it on the Summers’ account, he purses his lips and eyes me up and down. "And why would I do that?"

  Alex frowns, all sign of the flirty man gone now, and he crosses his arms. "Because she told you to."

  "Yeah, I'm going to have to check on that with my manager." He grabs the phone from under the table, and I just wave him off, blushing with embarrassment. "You know what, don’t worry about it. I'll pay for them myself." I hand Alex my phone to hang on to while I dig around in my bag for my purse.

  "Grace, it's Alex." My head shoots up as I hear him speak, and I realize he has my phone to his ear. Sneaky bastard. "They're giving Harlow a hard time at the equestrian apparel store. Do you think I could put you on Facetime, and you could speak to the guy directly?" He looks at the clerk condescendingly, a bit of the attitude coming out that I recognize from when Max’s friends look me up and down. "You do know who Grace Summers is, don't you?" The clerk nervously nods his head, and when Alex swipes his hand across the screen and turns it to face him, he pales considerably.

  "Good afternoon, Mrs. Summers. It's lovely to see you.”

  Her voice is frosty as she replies, "I wish I could say the same. Why am I having my afternoon interrupted for such a trivial thing? Put my granddaughter's purchases on our account, and you can be sure I'll be speaking to your manager about this." Her voice has taken on an imperial quality like a queen telling off her subjects, and I smile slightly. Nana is kickass, and I have got to learn how she turns that persona on and off with a breath. He nods his head furiously and starts shoving my purchases into bags, apologizing profusely. Alex turns the phone back around and air kisses Nana before he hangs up, handing it back to me.

  I lift an eyebrow. "Really?"

  "Yes, you shouldn't let people walk all over you anymore. Even if you don't care about the money, own the reputation." He grabs my bags and stalks off, leaving the clerk gaping in surprise as I hurry after him.

  Declan

  EVEN AT WORK, A FEW hours later, my cock is still hard and bloody uncomfortable in my suit pants as I sit behind my desk. The sound of my buckle as I open the belt and pull down the zipper is loud, but I don’t fight the need to try and relieve some of the pressure. The naked sight of my father's new daughter is seared into my memory, and I’m having trouble shaking it. Long, lean, limbs, rounded hips and breasts with a slender waist and all that sun-kissed tattooed skin making my mouth water. I’m so disgusted and angry with myself at my visceral reaction to her. No one has stirred me like that in a long time, and she is 100% off limits. Even if I wanted to indulge in a quick roll in the sheets, my siblings would kill me. What is it about her that draws my interest? I mean, even my damn cat likes her, and she doesn't usually like
anyone, but I found her snuggled up next to her, just like I want to be. Do I want to be snuggled up behind her? Hell yes, I do, and I’d slowly slip my cock into her wet heat and give her a good morning she’d never forget.

  That thought has me stopping suddenly, and I realize I’ve released my cock from my pants and have been stroking it as my mind wandered. “Mr. Summers, you have a call on line one. It’s Mr. Simpson, and he doesn’t sound very happy.”

  My secretary's voice has me jolting with surprise and ripping my hand off my still throbbing cock, pre-cum glistening at the tip.

  “Fuck!” I quickly jump up, shoving it back down and doing up my pants, the guilt and shame I feel making my cheeks warm.

  “Mr. Summers?” my secretary probes again.

  I push the button on the intercom. “Sorry, Liz, I was on my cell. Just give me a couple of minutes to finish up this call, and I’ll talk to him. If he doesn't want to wait, tell him I’ll call him back in a moment.” My voice is steady, but my hand shakes on the button.

  What was I thinking, doing that at work? How had I not even noticed that I was? This woman really has me in knots; in fact, she has the whole family in knots.

  I know I promised Kai that I wouldn’t investigate her, but maybe it’s time we did. Maybe I just need to make a few discreet inquiries myself. Maybe about her mother, I never promised not to investigate her.

  My cock is still throbbing behind the fabric of my pants, and I consider taking care of it in the bathroom, but my secretary's voice rings through the room once more. “Mr. Simpson is waiting, and he told you to hurry the fuck up.” She sounds a little harassed this time, and there isn't much that flusters the older woman, so I skip the self-pleasure and get my mind back on business. Jesus, she's even affecting my work ethic. Scrubbing my hand through my hair, I sit back into my office chair and press the button on line one.

  “Frank, how are you? What can I help you with?” I keep my voice light and business-like, picking up a pen to fidget with while I chat and possibly make notes if needed.

  “Declan,” the movie producer's voice bellows through the speaker, and I cringe at the anger. “What the fuck have you sent my way?”

  “Frank, you're going to have to be more specific,” I tell him patiently. The man is a blowhard, and the fastest way to make him explode is to lose your calm. I do my best to keep my voice measured, even, so that there’s no hint of what I’m really feeling right now.

  “Serena Cross,” he growls, “does not know how to ride a horse! In fact, she won’t even go near them because she’s allergic.”

  My heart sinks at his words, and my hand tightens so much around the pen, I crack the plastic sleeve. “She assured me she could ride and never mentioned being allergic.” My rage seethes at the thought of being made a fool of by yet another woman. No wonder I have such trust issues.

  “Was that because she was riding your cock at the time?” His anger is palpable, and I can feel the depth of it in that question as he usually doesn't make throw away comments like that.

  “Leave it with me, and I’ll figure something out.” I try and soothe a few ruffled feathers.

  “Fuck no, I’m behind on filming now. I’m going to make my own arrangements, but let me tell you if this happens again, I will never take another one of your recommendations for future projects,” he threatens before hanging up on me.

  Picking up an empty coffee cup off my desk, I throw it across the room. “Fuck!” I yell as it smashes into the wall and shatters.

  Dropping my head into both hands, I rub my face as the office door flies open and Liz steps into the room.

  “Everything ok in here?” she asks carefully.

  “Can you get legal on the line for me and get them to bring me up Selena Cross’s contract?” I ask her, not looking up. My anger is giving way to annoyance now, and the thought of more work that shouldn't need to be done if people would only tell the truth is doing nothing to give me any sense of internal calm. “And when you’re done with that, get me the numbers for a few reputable private investigators in the area.” She quickly agrees despite the second, likely odd, request as she quietly closes the door behind her after picking up the pieces of the coffee mug. In the moment of quiet after she leaves, I look down into my lap and realize my problem has finally disappeared. Well, at least Selena was good for one thing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harlow

  Alex delivers me home after that and kisses me despite the lack of an audience this time. Before he leaves, he promises to see me at the movie premiere the following night. "Of course we won’t miss it. We'll be your moral support," he swears and drives off, gravel flicking up from his tires. His car disappears down the driveway, and dread starts to build within me. There’s nothing I want more than to stay out of this house for just a little bit longer, but I know I need to suck it up and do it. So, taking a deep breath, I climb the steps. Opening the door, I make my way inside, the house almost silent except for the faintest murmur of voices.

  "Harlow, darling, is that you?" Nana's voice echoes from somewhere. I look around, trying to figure out where it came from, but I have no luck.

  "Where are you, Nana? I don't really know where I'm going," I call back.

  A flurry of heels on the floorboards tracks her movements around the house as she hurries through the open door under the stairs.

  "Oh, honey. I haven't shown you around, have I?" She grabs one of the bags from me and starts waving her hand around the entrance. "You know that’s our wing, and that’s the kid's wing," she explains, pointing at either side, "and upstairs is the ballroom and the library.” That has me pricking my ears up. I must have a good look at the library when I get a chance, and I might even sneak a peek at the ballroom. I mean, it’s a ballroom. When will I ever get the chance to do that again?

  “Down those stairs," she continues, indicating a door off to the side I hadn't noticed before, “leads to a gym, the indoor swimming pool, and a wine cellar, as well as what the boys call ‘the ultimate gaming room.’” She starts to walk toward the door she came from, her steps practiced so that she barely needs to watch where she’s going. “Behind these doors, there’s a bathroom, a couple of offices, and of course, the formal dining room that we had dinner in the other night.” Nana leads me back into the open plan living room, which has huge glass windows overlooking a deck area with an outdoor swimming pool and spa.

  Without walking over, she draws my attention to the other end of the room. “That’s the conservatory down there. I spend a lot of time playing with my orchids and plants; if you're ever looking for me, that’s a great place to start.” Her love of that space becomes clear in the ways her eyes shine and the subtle smile that uplifts her face even just when talking about her plants. She waves in the opposite direction. “That’s the kitchen and laundry down there. If you need laundry done, just leave it in the hamper in your bathroom, and one of the housekeepers will grab it and have it done.” Finally, she seems to take in the confusion that’s surely written all over my face. I try to smooth the furrow I can feel creasing my forehead, but I’m definitely not successful before she notices. With a warm smile, she tilts her head in the direction she’d first come from. "We're just having a cup of coffee and deciding what we should have for dinner." Crap, who’s we?

  She guides me to the living area, which is sumptuously decorated, where a high tea spread has been laid out on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Sitting stiffly on one of the sofas, her face definitely not reflecting Nana’s warmth, is Jacinta. Nana leads me to a sofa opposite and sits down, pulling me next to her. She places the bag on the floor, and mine joins it as she pulls the coffee pot toward her and starts pouring the coffee into dainty, flower-covered china cups.

  "Did you have a good day with Alex, dear? Jacinta was just telling me about yesterday’s shoot and how you were roped into appearing in the photos," Nana says as she pours the coffee, not looking at either of us. My eyes meet the frosty blue ones in fron
t of me, but I refuse to blanche.

  "Oh, she did, did she?" I raise an eyebrow in her direction, and her eyes take on a challenging look, a smirk on her face like she's daring me to tattle on her bad behavior. Without much thought needed, I decide not to lower myself to her level.

  "I had a great day both yesterday and today. Who knew it was so exhausting rolling around on a bed with two hot models while another handsome man took photos?"

  "I bet your mom knew." Jacinta's words are barely audible, but I do hear them, and Nana’s head comes up so swiftly that I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one.

  "What was that, dear?" Her words are sharp, but the ice queen just pastes on a smile.

  "Nothing, Nana." She’s saved by both her and my phones beeping. Scrambling around in my backpack, I pull it out and open the message. It's from Shane, and the pic that appears has me blushing redder than a tomato. Holy hell! Who knew I could look like that?

  The picture is of me wearing the first bright pink set Lindy had thrown at me. I'm on my back, and Alex and Josh are on either side of me, both of them with their hands on my body. My tattoos are vibrant against the white sheets, and you can see the penguin low on my hip toward the crease of my thigh. With my eyes hooded with lust, mouth open in a pout, and messy sex-hair, I look like I've been having a very, very good time. I must have been staring too long because Nana pulls the phone out of my hand, and a whistle echoes across the room.

  "Good lord, child, you look like you've been well ravished! Shame it wasn't for real, right, Jacinta?" I swear, if the ice queen could shoot laser beams from her eyes, I would be a puddle of goo at Nana’s feet. By the look on her face, she must have received the same photo from Shane.

  Nana continues, oblivious to the tension. Or she’s playing some sort of game. "They got some great shots for your campaign. Maybe it was lucky that Astor was sick that day. Harlow looks fabulous. She makes your clothes look amazing! I can’t wait to see how she looks in the dress I picked out for her for the premiere." Nana digs the knife in just that much further without even realizing, and Jacinta flinches.