SAVING LANDON (A BAD BOY MC ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  The entire room hung on every word.

  “As it were, Reginald Carlyle sympathized with his older brother Abner more than history recalled. It turns out that, not only did the disgraced Windsor-Carlyle truly love the Crown Princess, but Reginald foresaw this possibility happening in the bloodline again. It turns out that the man believed very firmly in destiny. ”

  Dalton and I shared a meaningful look.

  “Once five hundred years had passed, the terms of the second will were to be followed… they stipulated that, in the event of the money defaulting to the Crown over a matter of love, no matter how disgraceful, all money and resources would default to the otherwise rightful inheritor, and the terms and conditions of the Carlyle Fortune would henceforth be disbanded.”

  Raleigh’s lips quivered. “You don’t mean…”

  “That’s correct,” Riana Carlyle smiled. “As it turns out, the 500th anniversary was approximately two decades ago. The moment you disavowed Dalton Carlyle his inheritance, and he proved in front of us all that he would gladly turn down the money and power to be with this young woman… our grandson won.”

  Everyone was silent.

  “Dalton, I must appeal to you now,” Riana spoke, stepping forward and taking his free hand in both of hers. “The Carlyle Fortune is no more, and the money is yours. The family attorneys will see to the succession with you. I ask, my darling grandson, that you allow us a stipend to continue living on, and that you give us time to move out of your rightful manor.”

  “Grandchildren typically spend some time in their grandparents’ homes,” Dalton answered. “A weekend here, a week there, to get to know those before them. There’s a certain familial bond to the practice. However… I’ve never slept in Carlyle Manor. That mansion is just another oversized, overblown dot on the English countryside to me. I have no personal attachment to it, or ambitions for it.

  “Feel free to keep the manor. I’ll let you have whatever money you need, so long as it defaults back to me in the end.”

  Riana bowed her head graciously. “Thank you, Dalton. I deeply appreciate that.”

  Her husband looked positively defeated. He sank back down into his chair, staring off into space miserably.

  It was William who spoke next. Loud enough for everyone to hear, he turned to my mother and mentioned offhandedly: “You know, Sarah, he wouldn’t be a bad son-in-law to have…”

  “And why is that?” Mom snapped.

  “Well, besides convincing all of us that he loves your daughter with every fiber of his being, and that he’ll protect her until his dying breath… Dalton just became a multi-millionaire.”

  59

  Arrogant Brit

  EPILOGUE

  I glance over my shoulder at Clara as she’s ordering us some lunch on my card. With a small, affectionate smirk, I turn back in front, kicking back at the café table. The crisp air hits me while my eyes gaze around at our surroundings, and I feel refreshed by its touch.

  Long-since indoctrinated military instincts kick in as I continue to lazily survey the immediate surroundings, scanning for threats while out of the States. All clear, I think to myself.

  My thoughts mellow out, and I appreciate the architecture of the surrounding buildings from this street-level vantage point. My Marine friends were right – Paris is beautiful this time of year.

  Six months has passed since that fateful meeting with our entire family. In the intervening time, we’ve finished up our semester at college before pulling out for the following term in advance. We still intend on finishing our degrees, but we thought we’d take a quick detour first.

  You see, Clara and I decided to travel the world together after all.

  I love how well Clara has adapted to this life. Once she let go of her comfort zone and hopped into this adventure with me, if you’d believe it, she became even more beautiful to me.

  The best part is that I don’t have to do this alone. In my deepest dreams, I’d never thought I’d have someone by my side through this journey, someone reliable whom I loved with all my heart. I’m willing to put an expiration date on this voyage to come back to the States and see her through the rest of her education… and I guess the rest of mine, too.

  I haven’t quite decided what I’m focusing on, but that’s sort of not an issue for me.

  Despite his wishes to the contrary, I separated out and dispersed a large portion of the Carlyle Fortune for Father and Sarah. After all, it should have been his from the start. It took a while for them both to come around – Father was comfortable without it, and Sarah was still acclimating to my relationship with her daughter. However, we had put things behind us, and we definitely were on the road to a healthy in-law relationship.

  Naturally, I left my grandparents a large chunk of the money to continue living on, and they are free to keep Carlyle Manor as well. I have no intentions of maintaining that dusty old mansion when they die, but I’ve been giving some thought to converting it into an international home for shell-shocked war veterans. I haven’t quite worked out the logistics, although the lawyers I’ve consulted have told me that it’s probably rather doable.

  With all of that said, you’ll have to forgive me. There’s something far more important than money on my mind right now.

  The great Bill Murray once told a twenty-something at his bachelor party that the best way to prove you found the right woman is to walk the world with her for months, roughing it and relying on each other at your darkest or most miserable. When you arrive back at the final airport, if you still love her, marry her on the spot.

  With only a couple of months under our belts, I had all the convincing I needed. That’s why my fingers are sliding around this ring box in my pocket right now – because tonight, we’re going to be watching fireworks from atop a German castle.

  I’m proposing to her, right there and then.

  Natalie had even commended me via text message on my choice of ring… and was eagerly waiting to hear the news. As much as she’d done to be in my corner of the ring when it came to Clara… I just couldn’t exclude her from that part.

  The future that we have ahead is bright and full of wonder. I’m already wondering where we’ll go when our schooling is over.

  No matter what happens, or what lies ahead for us… we know that we have the support of our family, the warmth of each other’s love, and the strength to circumvent any obstacle.

  Clara and I will face that future down.

  Together.

  * * *

  Did you love Arrogant Brit? I have one last little surprise for you. Turn the page for a free copy of STEPBROTHER FIXATION, my first breakout novel!!!

  -Nikki

  Thank you for supporting an independent author! Just for my naughty readers, my entire catalog is now FREE TO READ to anyone with a Kindle Unlimited subscription!

  Be sure to check out my entire naughty Nikki Wild catalog by clicking RIGHT HERE!

  You might be interested to know that I offer a chance to be an ARC reader, special limited time discounts, new release notification, and FREE EXCLUSIVE CONTENT to anyone that subscribes to my Nikki Wild List! So go ahead, sign up is easy and I will NEVER send you spam or share your e-mail address with anyone.

  Sign up for the NIKKI WILD e-mail list by clicking RIGHT HERE!

  BONUS: Stepbrother Fixation

  TITLE

  STEPBROTHER FIXATION

  A BAD BOY STEPBROTHER ROMANCE

  * * *

  By Nikki Wild and Kat Jackson

  Copyright 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  Want more?

  Find me at my website:

  * * *

  WWW.WILDNIKKI.COM

  * * *

  Or like me on Facebook!

  * * *

  http://www.facebook.com/wildnikki

  Stepbrother Fixation

  * * *

  “I can’t do this,” I told her. “I can’t pretend like last night never happened. I need you, Madison, a
nd not in the way that a brother needs his stepsister.”

  I began lifting up the hem, revealing the creamy white tops of her thighs inch by inch until finally, I caught a glimpse of her underwear. I pulled my cock out and nestled it against her crotch. I felt my balls seize and I snarled in her ear. “I could blow my load right here, Maddy. I could soak these panties before dinner, and your mother and my father wouldn’t know a thing. You’d spend the whole night with my cum staining your panties... That’s what you do to me. You make me want to do the nastiest fucking things to you.”

  Maddy shivered and looked up at me with hooded eyes. “Preston… Jesus, we can’t. What we did last night was wrong. I wanted it… We wanted it… But you know it can’t happen again.”

  I pulled her panties open, letting the tip of my dick violate the space between them and her sweet, soaking wet lips. I thrust, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so near to her, of feeling my bulging head slip around in her honeyed nectar. “It has to,” I whispered. “Every time I look at you, all I want to do is get inside you again.”

  I was so close. But Madison gently, yet firmly took me by the wrist. I could see lust in her eyes, but there was something else too. Maybe it was self-restraint…

  “We can’t,” she repeated, and this time there was no “maybe” in her tone. I withdrew and she let her fingers brush mine. “I’m sorry, Preston, but think of what could happen if we got caught…”

  I nodded. As frustrated as I was, she made sense. But dammit, I didn’t want her to make sense! All I wanted was to throw caution to the wind and bury myself in my darling little stepsister.

  She fixed her skirt and helped tuck my cock back inside my pants, her hand lingering on its straining girth longer than she needed to.

  “Let’s hope there’s wine tonight,” I said as her fingertips left me, her graceful body moving around the car and sliding into the passenger seat.

  “I think I’m going to need it,” Maddy replied, trying to avoid my gaze as I sat down beside her. We didn’t say another word as her hand found its way to my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

  A drink was definitely going to be required. Maybe a little buzz would help me forget, but as we drove, all I could do was try to ignore the heat radiating from her fingertips. My mind drifted, traveling back to the day she ran into me on the street with those big beautiful tears in her eyes… So perfect… So broken…

  Stepbrother Fixation

  * * *

  One month earlier…

  “Madison, lunch was over two minutes ago.”

  I looked up from microwavable meal. It was a small plastic bowl of steamed rice and veggies, but the shitty microwave in the break room had only heated things up on one side, leaving me with broccoli stalks with freezer burn still clinging to them.

  My gaze fixed on Miguel Herrera, the general manager of the small rental company I worked for. He reminded me of a man who had once done greater things, but had since been exiled to the dredges of monotony that corporate life entailed. Maybe he’d been military, or maybe he’d once been a little higher up the food chain where commands weren’t questioned and his iron fist ruled all. Either way, it was painfully clear that a man like Miguel was never meant for a company like ExecuSpace.

  ExecuSpace itself was an interesting animal. Instead of renting tangible things like cars, homes, or office buildings, they rented out virtual office space. I sat behind a desk answering a multi-line phone system where each line represented a different suite supposedly housed in the six-story building I worked in. A prompt would pop up on my computer with each call, reminding me to answer for “Lindsey’s Lawn Service” or “Jack Vogler, Esquire.” Then I’d place the caller on hold and transfer them to the client’s voice mailbox, their cell phone, or even their home phone where they really worked.

  Basically, ExecuSpace rented nothing at all—nothing but the illusion that their clients were more important than they really were. It was brilliantly deceptive, and it worked like a charm.

  That meant the phones were busy. That meant that sometimes I didn’t get to take a lunch break, and when I did, running sixty seconds past the mark would earn me a visit from Miguel’s dark, scowling face.

  “You left your desk at half past noon, didn’t you?” he asked, raising one of his charcoal eyebrows. I shuffled the food in her bowl and nodded, taking another bite.

  “I did, but I got stopped in the hall by Mr. Franklin, who wanted me to run back to my desk and put a parcel into the outgoing mail. Then when I got back there, Lacy got a phone call from her ex and ran outside to take it, so I had to wait for her to get back before I could leave again. After that, Ms. Harris asked for a physical list of the calls she’d received today, even though they’re all logged on her voicemail, and ten minutes later I finally got to heat up my lunch and sit down here.

  “So,” I continued, glancing up at the clock over my shoulder, “I’m not two minutes late. I’m actually just sitting down to eat, so I’ve got about twenty-five minutes left.”

  Normally I wouldn’t have spoken to Miguel—or anyone at ExecuSpace—that way. That was because I desperately needed this job, or I’d be completely screwed in the way of keeping a roof over my head. That meant putting up with grueling twelve- to fourteen-hour shifts, even if I had to clock out at five p.m. like everybody else, enduring the abuse of my colleagues and the incompetence of my supposed assistant, and above all else, not stepping away from my desk unless I needed to use the restroom or had some other emergency.

  But today was different. Today, after four long, arduous years without so much as a pay bump or a pat on the back, I was not in the mood.

  I had bills to pay, and they were mounting quickly. I’d been hired in at a measly ten dollars an hour and that hadn’t changed, even though my responsibilities had. I was no longer the receptionist answering the phones, opening mail, and sending off a few e-mails every day—not that my job had ever only entailed that, despite what they’d told me during my interview. I was the personal assistant to pretty much everyone on the floor, as well as the office manager for when nobody else wanted to deal with the bullshit that sauntered up to the front desk every day. I could—and had—run the entire operation by myself on many occasions. So why was I still being treated and paid like Lacy, the girl with no education, no computer skills, no ambition, and no desire to be here?

  Lacy also happened to be my “assistant,” but she was an awful lot like my burden. She rarely lifted a finger to answer a call before I got to it and yet she still had her job and half the office tripping over themselves to take care of things for her. That usually involved passing her work off to me while she skipped out on some obscure “errand” or spent an hour in Miguel’s office with the door shut. She was young and pretty and she knew it, and I supposed that was what got a woman ahead in this place more than anything else.

  Miguel appraised me, putting his hands on his waist in a way that spread apart his blazer to reveal his paunchy belly. I made sure to tightly cinch my legs together under the table, though the violet pencil skirt I was wearing hugged my thighs enough that I was sure he could use his imagination as to what was between them. I didn’t want him to do that, of course, but there was no stopping Miguel Herrera when he decided he wanted something.

  When his gaze finally dragged back up to meet mine, I realized what he wanted was for me to toss away my lunch and go back to my desk. I held his stare, trying not to let my mouth twitch or my knee shake, trying not even to blink. I didn’t want to make any move that might be perceived as a sign of weakness, because today, after a shitty annual review and yet another thirteen-hour shift the day before, I was taking my goddamn lunch break.

  Eight hours. That’s what I get paid for, I reminded myself, a low heat rising in the pit of my empty stomach. Lunch is supposed to be an hour. Lacy gets an hour. So do Ross and Ben. Miguel himself takes as long as he likes. I’m entitled to sit and eat once a day, thank you.

  “Okay. You just sit there, th
en, while there’s a crisis up front,” Miguel growled, waving a hand dismissively in my direction. He looked utterly disgusted with me. “I’m sure the rest of us can manage your job for you.”

  I ignored his tantrum. It wasn’t easy—I could feel my cheeks beginning to scald and my throat tighten. “What sort of crisis?” I managed as I took in another deliberate mouthful of rice. I tried not to wince as my tooth sunk into a shard of carrot.

  “One of last month’s interviewees showed up,” he answered, and I could tell by the tone in his voice exactly which one it was. “Again.”

  I finally looked away, heaving a sigh through my nose. Last month, Miguel had wanted to hire a few more salespeople and had put out an open call on Craigslist. We’d received hundreds of applications, and he and Ross, our staffing manager, had decided on group interviews being the most efficient way to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were. Unfortunately in their enthusiasm, they’d made promises they couldn’t keep, and some of the prospective hires had to be told they either weren’t good fits (mostly due to some background check revelations) or that there simply wasn’t enough room for them on the team.

  Except that Ross refused to tell them that. He just dodged their calls, allowing each and every one to go to his voicemail and directing me to say he wasn’t in the office. Miguel had declared the matter was “beneath him” and that Ross would just have to deal with it.