by Hamel, B. B.
“Wow,” is all I can manage.
He looks up at the chandelier. I’m staring at it like I’ve never see one like it before.
Honestly, I never have.
“That’s Tiffany’s,” he says. “Before it became gauche.”
I gape at him and he just laughs. He takes my hand and leads me forward, through the absurd entryway, and into a large back room. It’s half sitting room, half living room. There’s a TV above a fireplace, but there are also two more fireplaces and two more sitting areas. There’s a little bar and more gorgeous furniture than I thought possible. A young woman comes walking out from a doorway, smiling huge.
“Brent!” She runs over, grinning. “I didn’t know. I just heard.”
Brent hugs her tight. He turns to me. “Amber, this is Lora. She’s the youngest of the clan.”
“And the best. Hi, nice to meet you.” Lora holds her hand out and I shake it. She’s pretty and only has a passing resemblance to Brent. Where he’s all tall and muscular and intense, she’s slight and willowy, barely taller than me, with a gorgeous figure.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Paris got boring so I came home. Mom and Dad are in a mood.”
He frowns. “Really?”
“Dad went hunting again and Mom got annoyed about it. He brought back all these dead birds, these pheasants. You should’ve seen the look on Mom’s face, like he brought the plague into our house.”
They laugh together and I just smile.
“Well look, do they know I’m here yet?”
“I doubt it.”
“Let us get settled before we do that, okay?”
“Sure. Need anything?”
He hesitates. “Actually, yes. Amber here needs some, uh, toiletries.”
I blush. “No, really, I’m fine. It’s okay.”
“I can take care of you.” Lora slaps an arm through mine. “What do you need? Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I just… I didn’t have time to pack.”
“I see. Brent picked up a stray?” She grins at her brother.
He glares at her. “No. It’s hard to explain. But she’s with me.”
Those words seem to hold some strange weight. Lora just shrugs and leans against me. “Don’t mind him. Brent can be very… protective.”
“Territorial,” he corrects. “And she needs protecting.”
Lora rolls her eyes. “Right. We’re so dangerous.” She laughs lightly and I like her already. “Come with me. I’ll get you sorted. You’ll like the supply closet. It sounds boring, but it’s actually impressive.”
I walk along with her, shooting a look back to Brent. He nods once and I’m led away with Lora. She takes some of my weight, almost naturally sensing that I need some help walking.
We move through a few hallways and rooms. I get barely a glimpse at each place, but it’s all immaculately furnished with gold-framed paintings and lavish rugs and wall-hangings. She takes me through a kitchen staffed with several young girls and an old fat man in a white apron that barks something in French that makes Lora laugh. She throws open a door and we step into what’s basically a huge room packed with supplies.
“I think the bathroom stuff’s in the back,” she says. “Toothbrushes and stuff like that. We used to get more visitors so there’d be more, but we’re a little low right now.”
I marvel at the assortment and sheer amount of stuff. It’s like a pharmacy. I find everything I need and a bag to put it all in: toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, razor, face wash, moisturizer, and even some makeup. When I’m done, Lora cocks her head.
“Okay, so. What’s your deal and why did my brother bring you here? You know he’s never brought someone here before, right?”
I stand in the weird supply room and just shake my head. “I don’t… I have no clue.”
“You don’t know what your deal is? Or that he never brought someone here before?”
“The… second one.”
She nods a little. “I’m not surprised. He’s not big on sharing.”
I smile at that. “Likes to keep things to himself.”
“Exactly. It’s very dramatic. So what’s your deal then?”
“I… uh… he was my doctor.”
She laughs. “Oh my god. That’s perfect.”
“No, I mean, it’s not like that,” I say quickly. “We’re not… you know…”
“Oh, yes, you are. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, right?”
“I mean—”
“Look, he’s my brother and I find him utterly gross, but he looked at you back there like you were his new prize and he wanted to keep you forever. You have to realize that.”
“That can’t—”
“Come on,” she says, taking my arm. “Let’s go find him before he thinks I corrupted your morality.”
I blink and let her lead me on. I don’t know what she thinks is happening here and I’m honestly afraid to ask her about it. She takes me through the kitchen where we’re assaulted with more French that only makes her laugh. We move through different rooms and end up in a sunlit sitting area with big windows overlooking an incredible garden.
Brent’s sitting in a chair, his feet up on a table in front of him. He looks back as we approach then jumps up. “Got what you need?” he asks.
I hold up the little bag. “Got it.”
“Thank you,” he says to Lora. “Gave me a chance to check in.”
“Figured.”
He walks over. “What do you think so far?”
“I think I’m overwhelmed.”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Doesn’t get easier though.”
I look at Lora and she just shrugs. “I’ll leave you two to it,” she says. “I was just about to crack open a bottle of wine and take a bath like a proper libertine. Wish me luck.” She waves and leaves the room in a flash.
I watch her go. “Sister, huh?”
“Yep. My siblings are all good people.” He puts an arm around me. “It’s the rest of them you have to be careful of.”
“Rest of who?”
“My family.” He hesitates. “I checked with the staff. My parents are here, along with my Uncle Ron, my Aunt Louise, and two of their kids, Collin and Hannah. They’re kind of fucking awful.”
“Someone yelled at me in French,” I say.
He laughs. “That was Dorian. He’s a dick but an incredible chef.”
I look up into his handsome face. The light swirls in through the windows and butterflies land on the bushes outside. Flowers are blooming, turning their hungry faces up to the golden light, and the smell of honey blows in through an open window.
“Where the hell are we?” I ask him.
He laughs and squeezes my hand. “This is Lofthouse Manor. And it’ll only get weirder. Come on, let’s get settled.”
He helps me along. We end up at a staircase. He looks at it, looks at me, shrugs, and scoops me up.
“We gotta stop doing this,” I grumble.
“Faster than waiting for you to gimp your way up.”
“Aren’t you a doctor? Shouldn’t you be a little more… kind about it?”
“Probably.”
He carries me up the steps to the third floor and puts me down. We walk down the hall and to a door with a large antique key in it. He turns the key and we step inside.
The room is huge and airy. The bed is enormous, four posts, gauzy white lace hanging down around it like the most beautiful mosquito netting. There’s a little sitting area, a fireplace, a bar, a closet, and a bathroom.
“You can have the bed,” he says. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Why are we staying in the same room?”
“Easier,” he says. “And safer. I want to be able to make sure you’re okay.”
“Right, uh, but we’re at your house now. My dad’s not going to get us here.”
He nods slowly. “Right. But your father isn’t my only concern.”
“Brent. Why do you keep talking
like your family is dangerous?”
He shifts a little, clearly uncomfortable. “They’re not… dangerous. But they also are. I’m sorry, I know I’m not doing a good job explaining.”
“Your sister said you’ve never brought someone home before.”
He stares at me. “That’s true.”
“So why now?”
“You need me.” He steps closer. “And I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“You don’t owe me—”
“You keep saying that,” he interrupts. He steps closer and bends down to kiss me. The kiss lasts a long moment. “But I keep ignoring you.”
We break apart when there’s a knock at the door. He walks over to it and opens it up. Archie stands there with our bags.
“Come on in,” Brent says.
I look away, my cheeks flushed from the kiss.
Archie puts the bags down next to the bed.
“Your parents would like to see the two of you for dinner,” Archie says. “Your uncle and your aunt will also be there.”
“Wonderful.” Brent looks at me. “So it begins.”
Archie manages a smile before slipping back out and closing the door behind him.
“It’s just dinner,” I say.
“Oh, yes. Just dinner.” He sits down on a couch heavily. “Grab a shower if you want. Or take a nap.” He kicks his feet up and closes his eyes. “I’m going to rest a little bit. Long drive today.”
I nod and linger for a second before drifting into the beautiful bathroom. I turn on the water in the shower, sit on the edge of the ornate tub, and I cry.
I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know why the tears come.
But I’m in a strange place with strangers all around me, running away from my rich father that wants to marry me off in some weird political deal.
It’s so much. I’ve been keeping it at bay for a while now, but it’s just so much.
Eventually, I get myself under control. I close my eyes and think about Brent… about his hands on my body. His mouth between my legs.
He told me not to forget how he can make me feel, and I won’t.
I’ll hold on to that right now, because I don’t know what else I can do.
10
Brent
When I wake up, Amber is just getting out of the shower. Her hair’s dripping wet and she’s wrapped in only a towel. I stare at her for a long moment, tempted to get up and rip that goddamn towel off her body, but I stop myself.
She notices me staring and goes still. “You’re awake,” she says.
“You’re almost naked.”
“Almost. Not quite.”
I stare at her for a second. “Get dressed. Wear something nice.”
“Something—” She starts then stops herself. “Don’t be an asshole and tell me what to wear.”
I stand. “That’s not what I meant. My parents are extremely judgmental. You can wear whatever the fuck you want, but be aware of that.”
I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. It takes all my willpower not to go back out there and rip that towel off. Ever since I tasted her in the truck, I want to go out there and take her all the way. I want to sink my cock deep between her legs and make her body shiver. I want to kiss her, run my fingers down her spine, lick her nipples until they stiffen under my tongue.
Instead, I take a hot shower. When I get out, she’s wearing a cute navy-blue dress and flats.
“How’s this?” she asks.
“Very good.”
She gives me a little curtsy. “Thanks. I can be cute when I try.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re always cute.”
“Of course.”
I head over to my clothes, pick some stuff out, and put it on. After I pull my boxer briefs on, I realize that she’s staring at me, her mouth hanging open, her cheeks bright red.
“What?” I ask.
“You just… got naked.”
“I have to put clothes on.”
“But… I’m right here.”
I laugh and stand up, my body covered only with my boxer briefs. I like the way she’s looking at me, her cheeks red and fire in her eyes.
“I couldn’t care less if you see me naked,” I say, cocking my head. “In fact, I think I want you to. Clearly, you like it.”
She snaps her jaw shut and glares at me. “That’s not true.”
I step toward her. “I think I know how to find out.”
“Don’t.”
I laugh and get dressed. I put on a decent white shirt and black slacks. I put on my expensive shoes and consider a tie, but decide against it.
“You look good,” she says, fussing with herself in the mirror.
“Damn right I do.” I stand behind her, pretending to look at myself, but really looking at her.
She catches my eyes. “Quit it,” she says.
“Quit what?”
“I see.”
I smirk and step closer. I push her forward against the sink and lift her dress up.
She’s wearing black panties. I press my cock against her and squeeze her ass. She lets out a little moan as I lean forward to whisper in her ear.
“You wouldn’t stop me, even if you wanted to. You can’t help yourself, little Amber.”
“Brent,” she lets out.
I step back, pulse racing. “We should go soon.”
I leave the bathroom. Staying any longer would lead to something very bad…. Or very good, depending on whether we were late for dinner or not.
She joins me a few minutes later. She gives me a little glare and I gesture at the door. “Shall we?”
We walk out together. “Dinner will be in the formal dining room,” I say. “There are like… five dining rooms here.”
“Why so many?”
“I honestly don’t know. I think just to show off that we can afford to have more than we’d ever need.”
“That’s so…. Wasteful.”
“I know.” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
We get to some steps and I help her down, mostly carrying her. We reach the bottom floor and I lead her through a few more rooms until I spot Archie standing outside of a door, his hands behind his back.
“Are they here already?” I ask him.
He nods. “Wanted to be early.”
“That’s unlike them.”
He cracks the slightest smile. “I suppose.”
“They want to meet Amber.”
“They’re very… curious.” He glances at her. “This is your first lady guest.”
“It’s not like—” I stop myself. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
He nods and opens the door for us. I let Amber enter first. Her limp is a little more pronounced as she steps into the room and she’s leaning on the cane a little more than she normally does. I think it’s probably from nerves, but I don’t have time to stop and ask.
My parents are sitting at the head of a large, oak dining room table. It can seat twelve comfortably and I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of antique from a European royal family. My father is wearing a suit and tie, like always. His hair is dark but receding, and he’s wearing a pair of fine circular glasses. My mother is almost his opposite. She’s pale and willowy, her blonde hair tied up. She’s wearing a simple sweater and jeans, and she stands when we enter.
“There he is,” she says. “And you brought a guest.”
“Hello, mother, father.” I walk over and kiss my mother on the cheek then turn to Amber. “This is Amber.”
“Nice to meet you, dear,” my mother says, shaking her hand. Sylvia Lofthouse gives her a dour smile, the kind of look you’d give to a servant that you’re forced to speak with for the first time ever.
“Same to you,” Amber says.
My father stands. “Hello, hello. I’m Edward, my wife’s name is Sylvia, since my son is too rude to introduce us properly.” He shakes her hand and gives her a once-over. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yes, nice to meet you too,” she manages.
“Well, sit, sit,” my father says. “Ron and Louise will be joining us very soon.”
I help Amber get situated as my mother floats down into her chair. She has that stupid fake smile plastered on her face and I wish I could tell her to stop, but it would only cause problems.
“So, Amber,” mother says. “Where are you from?”
“Texas,” Amber says. “I grew up where Brent has his clinic.”
Mother glances at me. “Is that so?”
“That’s so,” I say. “She was a patient.” I blurt it out. Might as well get it out of the way.
My mother raises an eyebrow and my father laughs. “Isn’t that against the rules?” he asks.
Amber blushes. “It’s not like that,” she says.
But I stare back at my father. “It’s against the rules, yes,” I say. “And when did you give a shit about something like the rules?”
He laughs again, clearly delighted. “Well then, okay, son. Good for you.”
“Please,” Mother says. “We don’t need to do this.”
“We’re not doing anything,” I say.
She smiles that fake smile again. “Amber, dear, I noticed you walk with a cane.”
“Yes,” she says. “That’s a recent addition. I got into a car accident.” She laughs a little, clearly nervous. “I’m still not used to it.”
“Well, it’s very… fetching.” Mother keeps on smiling.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mother, her cane is very fetching.”
“I wish I needed a cane,” Father says wistfully. “There’s something special about a gentleman with a cane and a top hot.”
“You can always get one,” Amber says. “I think you could pull it off.”
Father laughs out loud at that one. Mother’s eye twitches.
“I like her,” he says. “Maybe I will get a cane. She thinks I can pull it off.”
“You’re not getting a cane,” Mother hisses. “And you’re not getting a top hat. Do you want to look more like the Monopoly Man than you already do?”
I can’t help but smirk at that one. “She’s got a point. Going a bit thin up there.”
“Got all the money in the world,” Father grumbles. “And I’m still going bald.”
“Can’t beat genetics, dear. But I hear Elon Musk found a cure for baldness, so I’ll have to give him a call.”
