by Emma Hart
“Never. He will never change his mind. He wants this more than you know.”
Taking a deep breath was hard. My lungs were tight and my chest ached, but whether was with fear or for all the years we’d been apart, I didn’t know.
“Okay. I need his address and then I’m going to get this over with.”
Dahlia smiled and grabbed a sticky note. She printed his address out in block capitals. “He told me this morning you’d find it easy. It’s only a few minutes from the house you all grew up in.”
I took the light-pink note from her and surveyed the address. She was right—it was. I knew
“’Kay. Thanks. I’ll probably throw up a few times on the way, but still…”
Dahlia laughed. “You’ll be fine. Grab a bottle of water from the bar and take a deep breath. I promise you, you’re worried about nothing.”
We’d see.
***
My hands trembled as I approached Damien’s driveway. I couldn’t even take it in—it took everything I had to focus on the road and driving safely. It was a miracle I was holding onto the steering wheel still. The sweat that beaded on my palms made the leather wrap slippery, and I was constantly repositioning my hands.
My stomach was the worst. I’d taken three sips of water before realizing that anymore wouldn’t stay down. I was sure everyone was right and that I was worrying about nothing, but that didn’t change the fact that I was about to see my brother for the first time in eight years.
No matter the circumstances, that would always be terrifying.
I turned onto the driveway with a desert-dry mouth. Swallowing, licking my lips—nothing worked. My throat was scratchy and I wanted to cough, but when I tried, nothing happened.
Gravel crunched beneath my tires when I rolled to a stop.
For a moment, I just sat there. I sipped the water to wet my mouth and lips, then held it. It was still cold, and it was soothing against my palms.
I stared at the house. Huge and impersonal looking, it was so still that the only sign anyone was here was the sleek car parked a few feet away from me.
He knew I was here.
He had to know, didn’t he?
Was he as worried as I was?
This was it. I had to get up and get out of this car and put my past to bed. I could only do that now, today, with my brother.
I opened the car door, undid my belt, and turned. My heels rattled as I put my feet on the drive, and I almost forgot to grab my purse. I grabbed it at the last minute, holding it close to me, in front of my body like a guard.
The car beeped, lights flashing, when I locked it.
I was going to throw up. Right here, right now, all over his driveway. I was sure of it. There was no way the nauseous feeling hitting me hard could result in anything but that.
Steps.
One at a time.
I fidgeted with my purse, head down, making sure I didn’t fall on the steps.
Wobbly legs.
I wasn’t going to throw up—I was going to pass out. Of course I was.
The door opened before I’d even put two feet down on the very top step.
I looked up.
Right at my brother.
He hadn’t changed a bit. That was the first thought that flickered through my mind. He was older, sure. But his eyes were the same, dark brown that mine were. He still wore his hair in the same style, slicked back from his face and short at the sides. His scar still marred the otherwise perfect skin of his face. Even the stubble that covered his jaw was the same, carefully trimmed shadow it’d been all those years ago.
He dressed better now. Filled out the shirt more—and unless a part of said shirt was poking out the back of his pants, he was able to get that all done, too.
I was looking at my brother.
Damien.
The person who had once been my best friend and guided me through one of the hardest times of my life.
He opened his mouth to speak, and I burst into tears.
I buried my face in my hands. His arms circled me only seconds later, and he pulled me against him, resting his chin on the top of my head. Even with my heels I was shorter than him, and he squeezed me so tightly I thought he might squeeze all the pain out of me.
He didn’t say a word as I cried. He let me give in to the shock and ache, just holding me in his arms.
“Oh my god,” I breathed. “That wasn’t how I planned to say hi.”
His entire body shook with the rumble of his laughter. “Me either.” He released me enough to meet my gaze.
Tears shone in the corners of his eyes, and when he laughed again, they escaped.
“Sorry. I have no self-control.”
“Good to see some things haven’t changed.” He wiped at his eyes with a smile. “Will you come in?”
I nodded and stepped inside before he did. In the hall, I was struck at how…cold…it felt. There was a plant on the floor, but the walls were bare. Like this was a house and not a home.
“Dahlia did the same thing. I’m working on it.” He motioned lamely to the giant plant in a pot. “Thank god I pay someone to water it or it’d be dead already.”
“You didn’t even have a plant in here?”
“Who has the time to go shopping for plants?” He smirked as he looked at me. “I didn’t even buy that. I had to plead with my assistant to buy it and tell Dahlia I did.”
“Did she believe you?”
“What do you think?”
My lips twisted to one side. “I like her. She’s smart.”
“She’s something,” he muttered. Then, he paused, looking at me again. “I had all these plans for things I was gonna say, and I can’t remember a goddamn one except, “Let’s go and sit down.””
And just like that, my nerves disappeared.
“That sounds like a good idea.” I followed him into the large, open kitchen. He was pulling out chairs at a round table by the large windows that made up the entire outer wall of the room, so I joined him there and took a seat.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Do you have something stronger than coffee?”
“If I did, I’d be drinking it, too.”
Fair enough. “So,” I said, then waited.
“So,” Damien repeated. He waited, too, then followed up with a, “How are you?”
“Are we really going to small talk?”
He rubbed his hand down his face. “No, you’re right. That’s stupid.”
“We can small talk.”
“I’m sorry.”
I stilled at the apology.
“Perrie, I’m so fucking sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at me with enough raw emotion in his eyes that there was no way I could deny it. “I regretted those words ever since I said them. I never should have said them to you. I never should have told you to abort her.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out, then said, “I forgive you.”
Damien jerked. “I don’t deserve it.”
“No, you’re right, you don’t. But I know now that you were only doing what Benedict wanted you to.” The truth struck hard. “I know you wouldn’t have said those words and meant them from your heart.”
“God, I should have told him to fuck off that day. You’d lost everything that mattered to you in such a short space of time, and he wanted to take that from you, too.”
“He hates me. He always has. I’m a constant reminder of when Mom cheated on him.” I sighed and sat back. “He wanted to make my life as hard as possible. I knew that when I got desperate and tried to withdraw money when Lola was about three months old. The bank manager told me he’d put a block on my account, and he could do that because it was within the business accounts he controlled.”
Anger twitched his jaw. “I didn’t find out about that until last week or I would have had it removed. I never understood why you did what you did for work until then.”
I looked away, shame hinting at me. “It was all I could do
to keep her alive. It was easy money, and then when I decided I wanted a change, I could never get a proper job.”
“I thought you refused to touch the money. That’s what Dad told me when I asked—that you were stubborn and had turned your back on us. I should have known the piece of shit had lied to me.”
“I didn’t want to use it,” I admitted. “I wanted to do it my own way, but it was hard. When the money I took with me ran out, I needed something extra, but he stopped me from doing that, too.”
“God.” Damien rubbed his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? You tried to help. I was too stubborn to take that.”
“I was trying to force you into taking the money I didn’t think you wanted,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry. This all comes down to Dad.”
“Does he know about this?”
“He doesn’t even talk about them anymore, Per. He won’t even think about going to their graves. He drank himself into oblivion every day until I learned the truth last week.”
“What happened?”
“I told him to sign full control of the company to me and go to rehab, or I’d buy him out.”
My jaw dropped. “What did he do?”
“The smart choice. He quietly transferred more of the business into my name and checked himself into rehab. He’s currently nothing more than a shareholder.”
Well, shit.
I never thought I’d see the day.
“Wow. How did you pull that off?”
He smiled wryly. “I’m his son. I got some of his better traits.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I laid down some home truths and he admitted he needed help. He prepaid for three months, but he’ll probably need at last six. He’s got a decade of shit to wade through.” Damien scratched the side of his nose. “The longer the better, if you ask me.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me on that.”
He inclined his head toward me. “How did the interview go?”
“Well, I think. I hope. I need this job.”
“Are you still…” He trailed off, looking over my shoulder.
I had to smile at his awkwardness. “No. I stopped a few weeks ago. I, uh, I kinda got arrested.”
He stiffened. “What?”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “I had a breakdown in the car and he let me go. Adrian is a single parent and he said he didn’t feel good about it. I’ve been working as a consultant for the police ever since, but it’s not exactly a long-term job.”
I had no intention of letting him know that the only reason I was a consultant was because it was that or jail.
Damien frowned. “Adrian…Is that Potter?”
“You know him?”
“Called Dad several months back about coming and doing some recon work in some of our clubs. Dad handed him several choice words and informed the security no cops were to enter any of our premises. I had to call the chief of police and apologize for his behavior.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all. And now I understand his distaste for our family a little more.”
“Know him well, do you?” His voice was hard, but there was a playful glint in his eye.
Apparently, big brotherly instincts didn’t disappear just because our relationship did.
“Actually, as a point, he’s currently looking after Lola. But it’s complicated, so don’t push it.”
He held up his hands. “Lola, huh? She has to be seven now.”
“You didn’t know her name? Did your investigator not share it when you? Lord knows I have to say it enough times a day.”
He laughed. “Nope, he was instructed to keep his distance. He was purely to check on your well-being and deliver a check.”
“Did he enjoy the time I recognized his car and left it under his wiper?”
“Not so much. He knew he’d be liable for it if it went missing.”
“Huh. I never thought of that.”
“Can I see a photo of Lola?”
I paused. “I can do you one better. You can meet her if you really want.”
Something flashed across his face. “Really?”
“Sure. When we’re done here, I want to go home and change, and then you can come with me to get her from Adrian’s place.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m happier about it knowing Benedict isn’t around right now.”
If that offended him, he didn’t let it show.
“Speaking of Dad…” He leaned back and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet, he opened it, and slid something out.
Then, he placed it on the table and pushed the small, rectangular bit of plastic to me.
“Here’s what belonged to you all along. I managed to release some more of the stuff Mom held back until you turned thirty. She actually left the majority of her half to you. You own more of the business than Dad does now.”
I blinked at the card.
I knew how much money was in that account. At least, I did. Interest and extras…
I’d gone from having a hundred bucks in my account to having at least ten million.
“That’s really mine?” I asked, peering up at Damien.
He nodded. “Same account, but now under my control. You have to keep it under the business until the rest of Mom’s ownership transfers to you in a few years, then we can break it away. That was all in her legal docs. But Benedict can’t hurt you anymore.”
I squeezed my eyes shut so I didn’t cry. “It feels strange to know that account is real and I can touch it now.”
In fact, I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to slide the card back to him and run away, because although, technically speaking, I’d always had the money, there was something to be said for knowing I could walk up to an ATM and withdraw it.
“And, without Dad having control—and I know you just had an interview, but hear me out—there’s a position for you in the company. When you turn thirty, we’ll both be equal owners. Mom thought everything through.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
“It’s a lot to throw at you. I’m sorry.” Worry creased his forehead. “But I wanted you to have all your options available to you.”
I blinked a few times. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“Does this mean I have my brother back?”
A smile spread slowly across his face. “You never really lost me, Perrie. I was always here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Perrie
“Okay, so, she has no idea I was meeting with you,” I tell Damien when he joins me at my front door.
If I thought Adrian’s unmarked cop car looked out of place in my neighborhood, I was not prepared for the sight of Damien’s perfectly-valeted, super-expensive BMW parked behind my car.
Talk about a diamond in the rough.
“I can’t believe this is where you’ve been living.” He followed me inside the house. “This is…”
“A million miles away from the life we grew up in? Yeah. That’s exactly what Benedict wanted. This wasn’t where I chose to live.” I dropped my purse at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m gonna change. Feel free to go sit down.”
I darted up the stairs—as quick as you can dart in heels—and disappeared out of his view before he could mention anything about my house.
Anything else, that was.
I was almost ashamed he was here. That my brother, who had never known anything but wild wealth, was standing in my rundown neighborhood. He was a fish out of water. Hell—he was a shark in the middle of the continental United States.
I sighed and pulled a pair of jeans out of my drawers, plus a slogan tank that proclaimed I would “run for wine.” White Converse completed that outfit, and once I was changed, I pulled my hair into a loose twist on top of my head, the hairband snapping against my fingers as I twisted it.
A glance in the mirror told me I needed to touch up my make-up, no doubt thanks to my crying session earlier.
&nb
sp; How could I not cry?
Sometimes that was the best way to say hello. At least…that was the story I planned to stick with.
I ran back downstairs and almost ran into the back of Damien. “Whoa, sorry. Are you being nosy?”
He turned with a grin. “That obvious?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Shit. You look just like Mom when you do that.”
I frowned. “I do?”
“Yeah. You know when we’d do something that annoyed Dad, or when we lied that it definitely wasn’t us who almost burned down the kitchen making Pop Tarts? The look she gave us then.”
I flashed back to the last time he mentioned. Neither of us had been particularly adept in the kitchen as kids, so when we were home alone and needed to eat, Pop Tarts were all we decided we could cook.
Well… Let’s just say that my genius brother had no idea that the numbers on the toaster correlated to the minutes the Tart would be cooking, and it wasn’t exactly pretty.
There was an explosion.
Benedict was furious, but Mom was amused. Hence the eyebrow.
I snorted at the realization he was right. God, it’d been so long, but I could still remember the way she pushed past a raging Benedict, stepped in front of him, surveyed the mess of the kitchen with her dark eyes, and raised one perfectly-shaped eyebrow at the pair of us.
“I’ll remember that piece of information,” I said, picking my purse back up. “You ready to go?”
“Sure.” He motioned for me to lead him out.
I did so, locking the door behind him. I unlocked my car, but he placed his hand on my arm.
“Let’s take mine. I’ll bring you home when we’re done.”
“I need Lola’s seat.” I pulled the seat out and Damien opened the back door of his BMW for me to fit it. Minutes later, we were pulling out of the drive and I was giving him Adrian’s address.
“So, Adrian Potter. He arrested you?”
I side-eyed him. “Really? We’re going there already?”
Damien shrugged a careless shoulder. “I’m only asking. Despite your previous insistence that I don’t.”
Goddamn it. I wasn’t going to get out of this.
“It’s complicated,” I started. “I mean, the first time we met, he arrested it. It’s not exactly Romeo and Juliet, is it?”
