by Sosie Frost
“I’m not really a stranger anymore, am I?”
I didn’t let him get to me. “What happened, happened. It was a mistake, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not,” he said.
“I’m not surprised.”
“You’re gonna tell me you didn’t have fun?”
It wasn’t like I could lie. He had been there. He personally witnessed how many times I humiliated myself. I begged for him to debase me, and he did it perfectly.
“This isn’t about that night,” I said. “This is about here and now. You’re the least trustworthy man I know. I am not sharing a house with you. I want you gone.”
“You’re right. I didn’t tell you that we were step-siblings.” He leaned closer. My heart and stomach duked it out between flitters and flops and every inappropriate butterfly that grew to the size of a hawk. “But everything else that night? That was totally honest. We had an un-fucking-believable night of sex. You can’t bluff that.”
I could and I would. He didn’t buy it.
“Admit it, Shay. We aren’t strangers, and you’re kidding yourself if you think I’m gonna walk out that door and forget all about you. Ain’t happening. You’re in my blood now, and I’m in yours.”
“I’m not falling for it.”
“I’ll keep the addiction hidden if you can.”
He smirked. I sunk back against the fridge though I’d only find relief if I ducked inside of it.
His eyes. The dimples. That unbelievable body still shining with the occasional drip-drop of water. I followed a single sparkling bead as it crossed over the shadow of his pecs, along the ridged six-pack of his tongue-tempting abs, and lower. It crested in the V which peeked from the waistband of his shorts.
The man was perfection.
And what waited beneath the shorts? The source of his pride. The one delight I had yet to forget from the biggest mistake of my life.
He caught me staring at it. Thinking about it.
Wanting it.
Holy Christ, I was as big a perv as him. Crushing on my step-brother was bad enough. He was nothing but a no-good con-artist who got his money and his rocks off all in the same night.
This was a nightmare and a half. I’d abandon the house myself if it meant I could piece together some shreds of my dignity. All I wanted was to slip into a warm bath where only the removable showerhead knew where I touched.
“Get out.” Venom strengthened my words. It tasted an awful lot like desire. “Or get an attorney.”
“Christ, I’ve had insurgents crack easier than you.”
I quieted. He pulled away from me, chuckling as he crossed the kitchen. His trunks didn’t fall low enough, and his perfectly muscular ass hid from me. I wondered if he still had marks from where my fingernails dug in, trying to fit him deeper inside me.
I took my first deep breath. Mistake. The air filled with him. Sweat, salt, and dust. It certainly wasn’t what Atlanta’s Old Money smelled like.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said.
“You’ve propositioned me enough, thank you.”
Zach winked. “We can keep our clothes on for this.”
Then why wasn’t he wearing any yet? I couldn’t think of any insults to lob at him while his pecs twitched as he inadvertently flexed.
“I understand this was a big shock,” he said. “It was for me too. But we’re both adults.”
“What’s your point?”
He leaned against the counter as if he belonged in the house. As if he already knew the name of the spikey fruit loaded in the baskets by the window or if the pizza oven was wood or charcoal.
If Zach could tell me where the nearest bathroom was, we’d be set.
“My point is, we can settle this in a minute flat,” he said.
“Well, this I gotta hear.”
“I propose we share the house.”
“And you’re done.”
Zach prevented me from storming out. “Shay, listen. Let’s temporarily share the house. I’m only on leave for a few more weeks. Let me crash in the lap of luxury before I get shipped back to some desert where there’s more explosives and camels than…” He patted the granite countertop, though his eyes lingered on me. “Simple delights.”
“That doesn’t solve our problem. It just moves it to a different continent.”
Zach’s smirk faded, and he turned serious. An odd sincerity, but one I completely believed.
“I’m not looking for the easy way out or a get rich quick scheme. Never was. I’m a SEAL. That’s my job. That’s my life. I live to serve, and this…” He gestured around the mansion. “Is nothing but a fairy-tale while I wait for my next deployment. That’s all.”
I hesitated. “So…you want to live here for a few months. Then what?”
“Then you can buy out my share.”
“Buy?”
“That’s how these inheritance things work. You buy me out for a price that won’t look like we’re evading taxes, and we’ll be done. Then you can have this big beautiful house all to yourself.”
I crossed my arms. “And you want to live here while we figure all the details out.”
“Yep.”
“You don’t see how crazy that is. I’m not sharing anything with you. I don’t even know you! And this isn’t your house!”
Zach’s smile returned. He grabbed an apple from a basket and pointed over his shoulder.
“I’ll be downstairs in the gym working out. Then I’ll test the theater system with a movie. You’re welcome to join me. Take some time to mull it over. Let me know what you think.”
Easy. “I’m not sharing this house with you!”
He sunk his teeth into the apple and waved as he headed downstairs.
To the gym.
And then to the theater.
We had a theater?
No. I had a theater. And he thought he could steal it away until I paid him off to return what was rightfully mine?
Hell no.
Zach Harden wasn’t getting away with this.
He wasn’t getting a dime of my money, a single restful night’s sleep in my house, or another side-long glance from me.
From that moment on, I declared war.
Except it wasn’t a good idea to fight dirty with a SEAL. And I didn’t trust myself to confront Zach again, not when everything inside me clenched hard and tight when I imagined him straining those muscles while lifting the weights.
Nope.
We couldn’t live together.
I refused to bunk with the most desirable, infuriating, and despicable man I had ever met. My apartment near campus would be fine until we sorted the mess out. I’d go there, call William, and straighten the whole thing out.
Immediately.
Well, maybe tomorrow.
My apartment didn’t have air-conditioning.
…And this mansion had a theater system.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to spend one night here even if Zach were around. Besides, how else would I keep track of the devil if he loitered under my roof?
I headed outside to explore the grounds, though I took a detour through one of the two wine cellars and grabbed something white, bubbly, and fruity. Dad had taste at least, but I’d need something much stronger to combat Zach Harden.
That fiend was never taking advantage of me again. And he’d be lucky if I let him camp in the corner of the property with a hole to sleep in, a can of soup to eat, and only the memory of me and what he lost to keep him warm.
No one made me a fool.
And Zach would learn that lesson.
My father had more assets than I thought.
I knew he was wealthy, but now I saw the bank statements and investment reports and property listings. Dad was lucky the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future hadn’t paid him a visit.
While Momma stewed in her declared independence and clipped coupons, Dad sailed away from his responsibilities on a yacht.
A yacht that also b
elonged to Zach.
He could take the part under the water.
My phone buzzed. Azariah was the last one I wanted to talk to. She expected a play-by-play of the magic night I told her about. My father’s funeral wasn’t the place or time to discuss my sex life, especially around family who might be less than enthusiastic with my wild oats being of the…paler variety.
But at lot changed between my night with Zach and now. Azariah was the type to lend a sympathetic ear only until she thought she could live your life better.
At this point, she probably could. I answered the call anyway.
“How’s my favorite millionaire?” Azariah tapped on her keyboard. Calling from work. Always the multi-tasker. “Hanging in there?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said. “There’s more money than we thought.”
“More?” She screeched and tisked her tongue at someone who must have passed her desk. She scolded him and then returned to me. “You, mind your business. Shay, I’m listening. How many more zeros are we talking?”
“Three?”
“Damn.”
“Look, it’s really complicated. I’m kinda in the middle of a giant freaking mess, and it’s only getting worse because I can’t fix much of it until I get the trust fund.”
“That sucks. You have all the money in the world, and you can’t touch it.”
“Momma fought tooth, nail, and weave to make sure of it.”
“I loved Kaydon to death, but I never understood her.”
I scattered the investment reports on my desk. “She wanted me to learn independence. At least I had my car and school paid for.”
“Lucky.”
I knew it too. That didn’t help the guilt. Because of Dad’s money, I could do whatever I wanted in life. Which was good. I studied to be a teacher, and they weren’t necessarily known for their stellar paychecks. But the salary hadn’t mattered. My goal was to find a job somewhere, anywhere, and I’d teach kids more than letters and numbers. I’d make sure they never felt alone.
Ever.
But my textbooks were pushed onto the floor to make room for more boxes, and my student teaching schedule pinned over my desk. Moving to the mansion meant a long commute. Could I give that up just to stay close to my school? Hard choice. Until I made it, the books remained on the floor, and my apartment existed in a state of mess, half-way packed.
“So…?” Azariah clicked a pen. She’d probably draw some fantastic picture by the end of her shift. She hated the gig at the sales office, but it gave her time to sketch. I planned to buy her first piece of art for a ridiculous price to generate buzz for her name. It’d work, if she’d find the courage to push it into the world. “Tell me about the guy you met.”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Is there anything about you that isn’t complicated anymore?” She snorted. “You have all the money in the world. Cars, houses, mansions, and you got laid. You’re living the dream.”
Not quite. I sucked in a breath. “My father married Emily before they died.”
“Who? His girlfriend?” Azariah breathed into the phone. “No.”
“She had a son. And he…” I banished the memory of his lips pressing into my neck. “Made it into the will.”
“No way!” Azariah whooped. “Girl, this is some Lifetime movie shit.”
“It gets worse.”
Azariah hushed me for a second before muffling the phone and announcing to anyone listening in the office. “I’m going on break, ya’ll! Keep talking, girl. Who is this son?”
“I already met him.”
Silence. She waited, not making it easy on me.
“He and I…met.”
“Oh.” She figured it out. “Oh, Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You…and your step-brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, honey. This is beyond Lifetime. This belongs on Maury Povich.”
“It’s horrible,” I said.
“Did you know it was him?”
“Of course not!” Give me some credit. “But I have a lot to figure out.”
“But…” Azariah hummed. “Was he any good?”
I tossed a suitcase onto the bed, but nothing from my drawers made it in. “He’s my step-brother!”
“Well…I mean…he’s not blood.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“People do fucked up shit all the time. You’re rich. You can get away with it.”
I sighed. “Not this.”
“All those kings and queens in Europe used to do it.”
“I’m not a queen!”
“Didn’t Woody Allen marry his adopted daughter?”
“Gross.”
She snickered. “Maybe you’ve been watching too much Game of Thrones.”
“It’s not funny! This is a problem! I have to deal with this guy, okay?”
“It’s a little funny.”
I didn’t need her attitude. “I’m hanging up now.”
“Sorry.” She let it pass, but I knew her too well. She wasn’t done. She circled the pack, looking for somewhere weak to sink her teeth. “But you know this wouldn’t have happened if you had just talked with your dad.”
I packed all of my underwear into the suitcase. I had more than I thought. Now the latches wouldn’t close. Fantastic.
“He left us,” I said. “We had nothing to discuss. Don’t make me feel guilty. I’m on a hair trigger.”
“He was trying to start a relationship. The car and school and gifts. He extended an olive branch.”
And I broke that twig over my knee and cast it into a fire. “I know. But it doesn’t change anything. He made his choice. Hell, he even started a new family.”
“It really is sad.”
And now I had more guilt. “I gotta get packing. I’m heading up to the—” I didn’t want to say mansion. “—House.”
“When can I see it?”
It was probably visible if she squinted and looked at the horizon. “Whenever you like.”
“You’ll need to have a big graduation party there, Shay. Something to celebrate your trust.”
“I guess.”
“You leave that to me. I’ll plan you something worthy of an MTV special.”
God help us all. Azariah was eager to keep talking, but she miraculously had to go when I asked if she’d help me pack. I was on my own to box up my things and transform myself into someone completely different.
A mansion awaited me, just a little ways north of the city.
A whole mansion.
Pools and hot tubs, patios and gardens, fountains and statues. Downton Abbey was my new reality, except I didn’t have a lick of English inside me…not without Zach’s persistence.
Except, it didn’t feel right. None of it.
So why did I want to live there so badly?
I knew it was more than money and security and luxury. The estate was the only bit of family I had left.
How was I supposed to know Dad would die?
I sighed. No sense dwelling on the past. Momma always said we’d have more than enough time at Judgement for that.
First thing was first. I needed to buy luggage. I wasn’t moving into a beautiful new mansion hauling garbage bags full of clothing into my room.
The knocking rattled my door just as I finished folding my last pair of socks. I grinned—who thought Azariah would actually help me move?
I bounded to the door, swinging it open without bothering to greet her. I grabbed an armful of dirty laundry from the living room. No more quarters for the machines downstairs. Hell, I could buy new outfits whenever mine needed to be washed.
“Azariah, Grab whatever looks like clothes and follow me.” The laundry smothered me as I gave the order. “We have to figure out how to stuff everything I own into one suitcase.”
I hobbled to the bedroom and dropped the armful of clothes onto the already bigger pile cluttering the floor. Maybe Dad did help more than I thought.
Without worrying about car payments or school, I had much more disposable income to spend on my wardrobe.
I examined the mess. Where did I get a Taylor Swift shirt? That was Azariah’s doing. I kicked the shirt over to her and finally looked up.
I hadn’t welcomed Azariah into my apartment.
It was Zach.
And he picked up the laciest, pinkest pair of panties I owned. He stretched them between his fingers.
“Packing the necessities?” He asked.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I leapt over the bed and slammed shut the suitcase brimming with panties. The bed frame was a piece of junk. The slats holding the box-spring slipped, and everything tumbled, including the suitcase. Zach laughed as a wave of panties cascaded over his legs.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I shrieked.
He jerked a thumb to the door. His t-shirt tightened over his biceps. Didn’t he have any clothes that fit?
“You let me in.”
“Well, get out!”
“Why?”
“Because this place only has me on the lease. You don’t live here!”
Dimples, a flash of teeth, and a quirked eyebrow. He disarmed me without even trying.
“Relax. I wanted to see if you needed help moving.” He wagged a folder in his hand. “William called me. Said he had some paperwork for us. I volunteered to bring it.”
I took the folder. “Thanks. Get out.”
He declined with a smile. “So, you’re packing? Decided to come stay with me after all?”
“I’ve decided to live in the house that my father passed to me.”
“I haven’t had a roommate for a while. Hopefully it’s better than the barracks.”
“We are not roommates.”
“Not yet. Look at all this packing you have to do.” His grin would suffocate me. “Seriously, need any help getting this to the car?”
“Not from you.”
Zach motioned to sit on my bed. I chased him away.
“Shay, come on. There’s no sense being angry.”
I had every right to be angry. I fluttered around his feet, collecting stray bits of the sluttiest and most embarrassing underwear I had. I didn’t know what was worse—the granny panties or the slinky silk ones.
I poked his chest as he dared to get in my way, but brandishing a thong at him wasn’t threatening.
