Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  "No," I smile. "My accommodations were a bit more rustic."

  "I'd love to take you there sometime. Maybe in the new year."

  I raise my eyebrows. "That's rather forward of you."

  "I know what I like."

  "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to be a little busy with school."

  "School?"

  "I never finished college," I admit, blushing a little. I know he has at least two degrees.

  "What's the point?" he asks with a shrug.

  "The point?" I repeat, astounded.

  "You're a beautiful woman, and a Stratton, I can't imagine you need to earn your way."

  "It's not about needing...it's about wanting."

  "I didn't mean to offend. It's just that I've always looked forward to providing someone like you a life of luxury, like Jonathan does for Nikki."

  "Someone like me? You barely know me."

  "Like I said, I know what I like. But I won't press it. So how's the big deal going?" he asks, gamely changing the subject.

  "Big deal?" I ask.

  "Burke Shipping's Mexican deal."

  "Oh, right," I say with a smile, as though I know what he's talking about. I don't, but I do want to know more. "My dad's been telling me about it, but I've just been really distracted," I lie.

  "It would make me nervous, but I guess that's why your father's the best. Nerves of steel."

  "Right, that's him. And why exactly would—" I break off as Carter appears at our elbow.

  "Mind if I cut in?" he asks.

  "Well—" William begins reluctantly.

  "Thanks," Carter interrupts, and holds out his hand to me. I smile at William and take Carter's hand.

  "You sure it won't look weird for us to dance together?" I murmur to Carter as William walks away, looking a bit peeved.

  "Bree made me," he replies.

  "She made you?" I glance over at Bree, who is giving us a big thumbs up from the table.

  "She said that guy reminds her of a barracuda and told me I had to rescue you."

  I giggle. "Well, she's not wrong, but I was trying to find out something he was saying about my dad doing a Burke deal in—wait a second, you're dancing," I realize, almost tripping over my own feet as I look down at his.

  "Eyes up," Carter says, his lips twitching. "My mom taught me when I was a kid."

  "I see," I say, swallowing hard as our eyes meet. I pull back a little to leave more space between our bodies, though I can't do anything about his hand on my back. "And you're OK? You know, being in a crowd and everything?"

  He nods. "It's more spread out here, plus the security team and I did a background check on everyone in attendance."

  "Holy shit. You guys are intense," I murmur. I glance over as my father leads Anne to a different part of the dance floor. He's not a great dancer, too stiff, but he's serviceable. "I think he actually loves her," I comment.

  "That surprises you?"

  "Well, I don't think he ever really loved my mother."

  "How could you know that?"

  "I went to grade school with a couple of the kids of people he worked with at Burke. They told me how their parents talked about how my dad married my mom to get ahead at the company. You know, getting in with the boss's daughter. "

  "They were just kids."

  "I looked it up when I was older. He rose from a middle manager to vice president remarkably quickly, and when my mom's father died, he was named CEO."

  "Why not your mom?"

  "She was never completely stable, though of course she got worse after I was born."

  "Bree told me how she died. I hope that's alright." I nod, unable to speak for a moment as a ball of tears rises in my throat. I know intellectually that my mom's postpartum depression is really to blame for her suicide, but I'll never be able to feel completely blameless. After all, it was my birth that triggered her illness. "You look beautiful tonight."

  "You're just saying that," I manage to whisper.

  "No. Though I mean it purely factually and platonically."

  "I look factually beautiful?"

  "Yes. It is a fact."

  "Well, you look factually handsome."

  "You don't prefer a tux?" Carter asks, nodding smugly toward William, who is currently sitting back at our table and talking to Jack.

  "I prefer focusing on school," I reply, stepping away from him to applaud the band as the song ends. "Thanks for the dance," I add coolly before walking back to the table. Spending any more time so close to Carter would be dangerous.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I punch the numbers into the spreadsheet again. I'm going to have to ask my dad for some money, is what it comes down to. Some of the other rich kids I grew up with had a trust fund to look forward to when they hit twenty-one, but not me. I know that I could ask Jack for money, but I don't want to make him responsible for me. He's always been so careful with his money, living off his signing bonuses so he doesn't even have to touch his base salary. It's OK to ask your father for money for college, people do it all the time, I remind myself.

  Maybe I can return some of the Christmas presents I got for cash. That cashmere sweater that my father's assistant picked out as his gift to me must be worth something. But it would really be a drop in the bucket compared to the cost of tuition. I'm just going to ask. And if he says no, fine. I'll just leave it at that. It can't hurt to ask.

  I gather my papers, knowing my father appreciates people who are well-prepared, and head down the steps of the boat house. Carter emerges from the den where he likes to sit and keep an eye on the backyard, now that it's too cold to sit just outside my door. He catches up with me halfway across the lawn, and I look down at his leg.

  "How is it in the cold?"

  "A little tight, but fine."

  "Would you tell me if it weren't?"

  "No. You going to ask him?"

  "I have to. I used the last of my savings to pay off the first installment of my tuition for the spring semester, and the next one is due in three days."

  "You know, I have some savings—"

  "Carter. You are not using the money you earned by fighting overseas to put me through college. But thank you for the offer." I stop at the doors to my father's study. "OK, here I go." Carter nods, and I knock. Through the glass, I see my father look up and frown, but he waves me in. Carter stays outside, turning his back to the house to give us privacy.

  "What is it?" my father asks unceremoniously.

  "I have a—something to discuss with you," I fumble. I sit down, and put my papers in my lap then fold my hands over them. "I know you were disappointed with me when I left college, and the truth is, I was disappointed with myself. I've been looking into going back to school, and I actually applied and got accepted to the University of South Florida. I'm here because...because I need help with the tuition."

  "You know I lost the tuition for your fall semester when you left Duke," he says evenly, staring at me across his wide desk.

  "I know. And again, I'm sorry. After I graduate college, I'll be able to get a higher paying job and pay you back."

  "I really can't see you holding down a job, Alexa."

  "I worked at the same bakery in Paris for almost two—"

  "A bakery. Not a real job."

  "I couldn't get hired anywhere else at the time. But with a college—"

  "You always have an excuse ready for your behavior. Why can't you be more like your brother?"

  "Gigantic and capable of playing professional football?"

  "Do you really think this is an appropriate time for jokes? This is the kind of thing I'm talking about. You wouldn't exactly fit in in a professional environment. You can't quit a real job just because you want to go shopping or you just don't feel like going in that day."

  I take a deep breath. "Dad, I know I've made some mistakes, and I haven't always been that responsible, but I want to make something of—"

  "What about that William from the gala?"

  I frown, c
ompletely thrown by the seeming change of topic. "What about him?"

  "He seemed interested."

  "I—I don't...what are you suggesting?"

  He sighs. "Well, your friend Nikki, she seems happy. Don't you think you're more suited to that kind of life?"

  "You mean, you think I should marry a rich guy and to hell with my education?" I ask, my voice rising.

  "Alexa, calm down."

  "No, you can't do that! You insult me, purposefully rile me up, and then tell me to calm down."

  "You have control over your emotions, not me. Though I know you come by them honestly."

  "Meaning?"

  "Jack got my drive and intelligence, and you got your mother's emotionality."

  I gasp, as though he slapped me. "What are you suggesting? That I'm like her?"

  "Am I really telling you something you don't know?

  I stand up, tears stinging my eyes. "I'm stronger than her, more resilient."

  "Alexa, it's not an insult, just a statement of fact." He's still sitting, completely relaxed, completely sure that he's in the right. I look out the window and see Carter standing there, his back still toward us, but his head slightly turned toward the glass. "You're asking me to give you money for something that I don't think is a good investment. You've proven time and again that you can't handle responsibility, and you react with outsized emotion to everyday occurrences. Just like your mother. Some people are too fragile for the real world."

  "Got it," I whisper, my head spinning. "Thank you for your time." I turn and head out the door to the house. I have to get out of the room before I completely lose it. I shut the door behind me and speed down the hallway, almost running.

  I can't handle what I'm feeling right now. It's too much. I feel like I'm about to explode.

  I stop in front of the den. A bottle of scotch sits on the bar cart in the corner. I dart over and grab it, then hurry back out. I know Carter is already looking for me, always fulfilling his duty.

  The basement door beckons me, and I hurry down the steps. I rush through the main room and into the home theatre, shutting the door behind me and nestling into one of the big recliners. It's dark and calm down here.

  I pull the stopper out of the bottle and take a long swig. It burns as it runs down my throat. I take another long sip, and feel a warmth extend from my belly out to my skin.

  I don't know why I even try. If that's what my father thinks of me, then that's what I'll be. It's so much easier just to give in.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Maybe you should just sit this one out," Carter says as we pull up to the gates of Nikki's house.

  "You can just park in the driveway," I tell him. "I gave you the guest list like you asked. And it's her birthday."

  "You've going out almost every night," he argues, pulling the car over to the side of the gravel drive.

  "And I've stayed in the VIP areas or gone to members-only places. I'm not doing this to make your life difficult, OK? This is just what I want to do," I quickly get out of the car and walk toward the front door. I feel a headache coming on.

  "You've only missed a week of classes. You could still—"

  "No, I couldn't," I cut him off as I step inside. I place the gift I got for Nikki on the table, already piled high with presents, and hurry toward the open bar that's been set up in the formal living room. Or where the formal living room used to be, because it looks like she's had most of the furniture on this floor put in storage for the party. "Vodka soda," I tell the bartender. Important to not have too many calories when you're drinking every day.

  I spot Nikki in the center of the room and hurry over. Carter trails his now standard ten steps behind me. She gives me a big hug when she sees me, and nods her head suggestively behind her.

  "What?" I frown, confused by her body language.

  "Look behind me. But don't be obvious," she says through gritted teeth. I do my best to glance unobtrusively behind her and do a double take as I spot William Easting. "Now's your chance."

  "I don't know," I reply, sipping my drink. "Do you think he'll be mad? I didn't answer any of his calls."

  "Ugh, are you crazy? If I weren't married... Well, it's a good thing you look sexy as fuck right now," she says.

  "He's coming over. Don't look!" I groan, as she glances back.

  "Alexa!" he greets me. "Good to see you. I was beginning to worry you'd left for Europe again without saying goodbye."

  "No, no, just laying low for a bit."

  "How's school?"

  "On the backburner, actually. Figured what's the point, you know? Might as well have some fun instead," I smile, and down the rest of my drink.

  "Exactly!" Nikki crows. "Well, I'll leave you two alone. If you'll excuse me..."

  "Don't look now, but I think you're being followed," William leans down to murmur in my ear.

  "No, I know," I tell him. "He's sort of my bodyguard, actually. You met him at the gala in December."

  "Of course, the Marine. Probably a good idea. Can I get you another drink?" he asks, laying his hand on my back.

  "Please," I reply. A few minutes later, drinks in hand, we locate one of a handful of couches lining the walls and sit down. William places his arm around the back of the couch just above my shoulders, and I take a long, slow drink. It feels nice just to sit, and let everything sort of glide over me.

  "I don't know how you can wear these," William remarks, running his hand from my knee down to my ankle and picking up my foot, sheathed in a high, red heel.

  "Well, I am glad to be sitting down," I admit. "What about these collars?" I ask, running my fingers over his starched white shirt where it hits his neck.

  "I love wearing suits. This is bespoke. I can never go back to off-the-rack now. Wow, you can really put them away," he says with a laugh as he looks down at my empty glass.

  "I always drink more when I'm nervous," I flirt.

  "Do I make you nervous?" he asks with a grin. I smile, though the truth is that he doesn't. It's just fun to flirt with someone who doesn't take everything so seriously, who doesn't challenge me at every step of the way—

  "Fireworks outside, everyone!" Nikki calls out from the doorway of the room. William gives me a hand to help me stand, and we breeze by Carter, who has one of his impenetrable expressions on his face.

  We head into the backyard and William pulls me a little ways to the side, under a trellis covered with vines. As we look up to watch the fireworks, I feel his hand slide over my ass. I feel a nice tingle up my back, though it's nothing to write home about. Still, William is fun, charming...wealthy. I sip the rest of his drink. Just the kind of guy to settle down with. It's easy for me to picture our lives together: days full of shopping, long trips to Europe on our yacht, gossiping with Nikki at the country club...

  Just as the grand finale begins to die down, William turns and pulls me against him. Just before he kisses me I smell his breath, minty, with a hint of menthol. His lips are dry, and my head is swimming. His hand grabs my arm, and suddenly I'm being pulled back.

  Except it's not William's arm. It's Carter's. "Maybe we should go," he says.

  "You overstep," William seethes from my other side.

  Carter ignores him. "You've had three drinks in under an hour," he states, then leans forward and adds quietly, "plus the ones at home."

  I yank my arm away. "You're embarrassing me," I hiss.

  "That is not my intention." He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes me aback.

  "Leave us alone," William interjects, stepping toward him. Carter's eyes gain a strange fire in the darkness, and I know I need to deescalate this situation quickly.

  "It's fine. William, I'll call you tomorrow," I tell him, placing my hand on Carter's elbow and guiding him away. I stumble a bit on the grass, and wonder if I did have one too many. Not that I'd ever admit it.

  Carter and I walk back to the car in silence, a silence that continues through our drive home. I hurry out of the garage and toward the
boat house, but hear him following close behind me.

  "I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now," I say, turning just before I reach the door.

  "I'm just worried about you."

  "You're worried about me? You have a lot of gall, saying something like that to me," I reply, turning on him.

  "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

  "Gee, I don't know. Maybe because of your habit of abandoning me right after we have sex! You didn't seem so worried about me then!" Shit. I thought I was over that. Guess not.

  "You're the one who picked me out for a one-night stand in the first place! It's not my fault that we ended up living together!"

  "No, you're right. That absolves you from having any responsibility for your actions," I retort sarcastically, and stomp up the steps to my room, Carter in hot pursuit.

  "Look, can we take a minute, and just..." he takes a deep breath as we reach my bedroom. "I can at least explain about the last time. I have night terrors, OK? I was going to explain, but it's fucking embarrassing. You don't want to share a bed with me. It would not be a good time for you, trust me."

  "Oh." My heartbeat is still racing, fueled by anger and alcohol. "Well, what about the time before that?"

  He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "I don't know, alright? I just can't stand the idea of someone...being close to me. I know that's fucked up."

  "Yeah, it's pretty fucked up," I agree.

  "I shouldn't even be alive right now, is the truth. I should've died with the rest of the guys in my unit."

  "Carter, fuck! You can't say things like that!"

  "It's just a fact. The only reason I'm alive right now is because of your father's money."

  "Wait, what do you mean?"

  "He's the one who got me evacuated to Paris. His contacts knew that there was a doctor there, the best neurosurgeon on the planet, who could save me. No one else got that treatment. And if I'd been conscious, I would have refused it. I left my entire unit behind."

  "But you would have died."

  "I know. My team and I did everything together. I would have died for any one of them. But your father reached in and plucked me out like I was different, and that broke the bond. And now... now it's like he's got some power over me because he saved my life. And I'm supposed to be grateful, but I'm not."