by Kim Linwood
I shake my head and groan. “Your jokes are awful.”
“Hah!” He points a finger at me. “Aren’t they, though? It’s what I love about them. So what’s got you in such a great mood this morning? Did you pull Declan into the broom closet for a quickie?”
A bit of donut gets stuck halfway down. I glare at him as my throat convulses and I try to keep from spraying half chewed food all over his workstation. “What?” I gasp.
“You. Declan. Boy parts. Girl parts. Did your parents really never have this talk?”
“Carl!”
He shrugs. “So, how is this going to work after your parents get hitched?”
There goes my good mood. “What do you mean?”
“It’s fine. Your secret is safe with Uncle Carl. I don’t blame you for not listening to me the other day. Sometimes logic can’t trump chemistry, and I could tell from the moment I showed you into his office your first day that there was something between the two of you.”
“It’s not like that. We’re not—” I wave my hands dismissively.
“If you aren’t then maybe you should. Get it out of your systems.”
I snort. “Not likely.” If only it were that easy. I’m not sure I’ll ever get him out of my system at this rate.
“Ah, so that’s the problem.” He grins and picks a chocolate glazed out of the donut box. “What’s really keeping you two apart? Aside from angst. Ah to be young and in lust again.”
“Do you like those donuts? Because they could stop, you know,” I grumble.
“No, I mean really. I know the whole family situation is awkward, but it’s not like you two are related, and yes, you are working together right now, but that’s temporary.” Taking a bite, he chews slowly while watching me quietly freak out.
“I...” I stop and actually think about it.
He’s right on both counts. Our parents would probably be shocked, and so long as I’m working for Garrett and Declan, we would have to keep it quiet, but neither of those things are insurmountable. My situation with Michael was a much bigger problem than either of those, and that’s over now.
So what’s really stopping us?
I don’t trust him.
With the way we met, and everything he’s said to me the whole way through our stupid, twisted non-relationship, I just don’t trust him.
“Weren’t you the one who told me he was broken?” I remind Carl.
He smiles gently at me, putting the jokester on hold. “Broken things can be repaired, kiddo. Would I worry about you if you got involved with him? Sure, but I’ve known him a long time. He’s been different since you showed up. You’ve thrown him off his game, and he’s scrambling to pretend everything is normal.”
As if on cue, the elevator dings behind me and spits out Declan. Carl and I both jump, quickly switching topics, but not before Carl reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Morning.” Declan grins, completely unaware that we were just psychoanalyzing him. He grabs a Boston creme on his way past.
There’s a bandage across his knuckles, which seems pretty strange since it wasn’t there when I left the office last night. “What happened to your hand?”
He looks down like he’s forgotten it’s there. “Oh, nothing. Just slammed it into something that was denser than I thought.” His mouth stretches into his trademark cocky grin.
“Denser than you thought?” That sounds fishier than a chum bucket during Shark Week.
“Yeah. Listen, I need to talk to you about Sunday. See me in my office when you’re done here?”
A slippery switch of topic, but I let it go. “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I watch him walk back to his office, and I should probably be thinking about work, or what sort of stupid fight he got into, but all I can see is how good he looks in a suit. Not to mention how good he looked out of it. Maybe there are a couple of other injuries that need tending to.
Carl coughs politely. Sarcastically, but politely. “You’re right. I’m totally off base and there’s obviously nothing going on between the two of you except brotherly and sisterly affection.”
“Shut up, you.”
“Just think about it, okay? The way you two look at each other when you forget to be annoyed? That doesn’t show up every day. It might be worth taking a chance.”
“We’ll see. First we need to get through this wedding without killing each other. Then I’ll think.”
Declan’s door is open when I get back to our area, so I walk in. “What’s up?”
He’s standing by the far wall, facing the windows. His hands are crossed behind his back as he looks out over the city. “You don’t have to worry about Michael anymore.”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
“He’s going to leave you alone. We had a... chat, I guess you could call it. There were words involved.” As he steps closer, he moves out of the glare and I can see he’s being dead serious.
The whole situation feels like a cheesy scene out of a mob movie. “I don’t have to worry about him anymore? Jesus, you didn’t kill him, did you?” My face is probably as white as a sheet. I don’t think he’d actually do anything that crazy, but maybe? I knew Michael’s excuse about having met someone sounded like bullshit. Now I know why.
Declan laughs and shakes his head. “Nah. Tempting, but he’s not worth it. He did get a pretty clear message, though. No more dates. No more calls. No more bothering you in any way. If he does, he’ll answer to me.”
The smile on his face is both insanely hot, and scary as hell.
Wait, if he knows about Michael...
What about the video? Either he knows about it and I’m already one step towards total humiliation, or he doesn’t, and Michael still has his trump card hanging over my head.
I try to choose my next words carefully. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, because I am, but there were things involved that were private.”
“I know, Claire.” His voice is deep and velvety smooth. He sounds like he’s trying to reassure me, but does he really know everything?
“You’ve... you’ve seen it?” I can’t even say the words.
Declan dials back the gangster vibe a few notches and shakes his head. “Relax, you look like you’re about to puke. This was supposed to be good news. No, I haven’t seen whatever it is he had on you, and if he values his life, he’s going to keep it to himself until he dies of old age.” He comes a step closer, mouth quirking up at the corner. “Not that I’m not curious.”
“No!” I blurt out, waving my hands between us in big sweeping x’s. “No, you don’t. And I don’t want you to.” My heart is pounding a mile a minute. “This is serious. Promise me. Even if it somehow ends up in your hands, you’re not going to watch it. Promise me.”
He looks into my eyes, a long, weighing gaze. The curiosity is obvious in his face, but he eventually nods. “Alright. I promise, and you know I don’t make promises lightly.” He comes another step closer, standing so near I have to crane my neck to look up at his face. “You’ve already made me break one, remember?”
Oh yeah, I remember.
One night only. I swallow hard. It’s hard to think when he’s so close. I step back reluctantly, nodding slowly. “Thank you.” I push my panic away. He’s fixed it, and he didn’t even kill anyone in the process. That I know of.
A weight is lifted from my shoulders. I’m free. A smile threatens to break out on my face, especially when I look up at Declan, who’s waiting for me with an expectant look on his face. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “The fucker deserved it. No sweat.”
Now I do smile. My badass knight in shining Armani. It’s tempting to keep teasing, but I let him off the hook. “You wanted to talk about Sunday? Mom has the whole schedule worked out. I saw it the other day. You probably know about as much as I do. It’s been her show for the most part.”
“Like everything else,” he mutters.
/> “Oh, come on. Give her a break. Her whole job is to organize stuff. It’s what she does. You can’t hate her for that.” I don’t know why I feel the need to help Declan feel better, but I lean in and whisper. “It would be like hating you for having a gigantic...” He smirks. “Ego.”
Declan laughs, and kisses the top of my head softly. It’s a completely unsexy gesture, but it knocks my emotions off balance faster than any other kiss we’ve shared. It’s sweet, and it makes me want more. He looks at me curiously, and I shake it off with a smile.
“If you’re going to hate my mother for anything, hate her for thinking she can make pecan pie. I’d say more, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” I walk out before he can make me tell him if I’m joking or not. Next Thanksgiving will be more fun if he isn’t quite sure.
Declan
Everyone else is watching the bride. Me, I’m watching Claire.
The ring that’s going to seal the deal is burning a hole in my pocket. I feel ridiculous standing here in a wedding I don’t approve of.
My father’s best man. What a fucking joke.
But it’s important to him, and even if I don’t like it, I want him to know I have his back, no matter what.
Claire catches my eye and smiles. I wonder what our parents would think if they knew I pulled her into the bathroom earlier to check if her underwear matched the spring green dress she’s wearing. It did. At least until I yanked her panties down and tucked them into my breast pocket.
Discreetly of course.
She blushes and turns back to watch her mom finish the walk and step up next to Dad. I can still smell the scent of sex and her perfume. So yeah, I’m standing on the altar of my father’s wedding with a fucking erection.
At least something’s looking up today.
I’ll say something nice. Her mom looks great. The dress is white, but with pale green lace that matches Claire’s dress. This is the first time I’ve really been forced to stand and look at her, and while I might not be her biggest fan, it’s like looking at an older version of Claire, and if that’s Claire’s future? Her husband will be a lucky man.
The minister smiles and looks around the small chapel. “Welcome. Today we are here to celebrate the union of Garrett and Annette.”
He starts his spiel, and I zone out, looking out the narrow window onto the grounds of the castle Dad booked. Yeah, a castle. Or at least some rich movie star’s idea of a castle. He’d barely moved in before he went broke and had to sell the place to fund his coke habit. Not a great place to start a happily ever after if you ask me, but nobody did.
The best part of the whole insane place, is that he had a pool built around the outside walls like a moat. If I lived here, I’d be diving off the parapets all day. I hope the crazy fucker got a chance to try it a couple times before he left.
Claire clears her throat, and I realize that the monotonous drone of the ceremony has paused. Everyone’s looking at me, and Dad’s holding out his hand with a raised eyebrow. Right. The ring. I pat my pockets and pretend to be worried, which earns me a scowl.
Serious occasion, blah blah blah. He takes it when I hand it to him, and turns back to Annette. My job is done.
I grin and shrug at the girl who’s about to become my stepsister. Claire looks like she’s trying not to laugh, and I know I have at least one kindred soul in the room. Very carefully, I palm my panty handkerchief and dab my forehead.
“Stop that,” she mouths silently.
Dad’s just starting the vows he wrote, and everyone’s attention is on him. Except Claire. With a smirk, I mouth back, “I want to fuck you.”
She squints like she doesn’t understand, so I repeat it, a little slower. This time she gets it, her eyes going wide as she pinches her lips to prevent voicing a reaction. I just smile wider, trying not to laugh out loud at her blush.
Dad finishes, and Annette starts hers. It’s full of lovey-dovey crap, but whatever. I only glance her way for a moment, because Claire’s mouthing something back to me. “Later.”
Fucking hell. I made her blush, but she got me back good. My cock was nearly as bored as I was, but he’s certainly perking up again now.
Annette and Dad finish their “I do’s”, and the minister beams at the happy couple. “You may kiss the bride.” Everyone claps, and I know I’m going to have nightmares about the flash of tongue I just saw, but they do look happy.
And just like that, Claire’s my stepsister.
Weird.
The reception is outside, a big, medieval looking cloth tent holds the party area, and they even have a live band playing madrigals. All they need is a jester and pony rides.
We all suffer through the hand shaking and hugging. I don’t even know most of these people. Sitting down for dinner is a relief, but I very quickly realize my mistake.
Glasses are ringing from all over the tent, and Dad and Annette are getting way too into making everyone happy. Fuck, I totally don’t need to sit here and watch them make out. It looks so fucking wrong to me.
With a short, “Excuse me,” I get up.
Claire looks at me like she knows what I’m thinking. “Where are you going?”
I want to tell her I’m calling a cab and going home, but I’m not that much of an asshole. For now I just want to find a bathroom, or a privy, or at least a good sized bush. “Gotta take a leak. Been holding it the whole ceremony.”
She rolls her eyes.
A voice comes over the PA as I go. “The bride and groom have a film they’d like to share with the guests, which will play as soon as everyone is served. In the meantime, we will be starting you off with a light lobster bisque with fresh scallops, pulled out of the ocean only hours ago.”
I notice he doesn’t specify how many hours.
On my way back from the bathroom, I notice movement right on the edge of my peripheral vision. There are staff and guests crawling all over the place, but something sets my nerves on edge. A familiar figure ducks into the tent behind the reception. The one holding all the electronic stuff.
It might not be him. It shouldn’t be unless he has a death wish, but my gut says it is.
I don’t know what he’s up to, but it’s not going to be good. This time I just might kill the fucker.
Declan
He’s already inside, and when I get to the flap in the tent, I know I was right. I’d recognize Michael’s whine anywhere.
“No no, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ve made some last minute changes. Here, I’ll handle it. Just go tell the minstrels or whatever to play a little while I get it set up.”
“Of course, Sir. No problem.”
I wait around the corner until the worker leaves. The less witnesses the better. Out in the main tent, the music picks up just as I slip in behind Michael. He’s hunched over a laptop with his back to me, fiddling with it.
“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey. Won’t you ever learn?”
At the sound of my voice, he spins in surprise. I bare my teeth at him, nearly snarling. I’m not letting that little fucker get near Claire again. For a moment, he blanches. Good. He should be fucking scared. Terrified even. I’m going to tear him apart. But then he grins, his eyes turning a little wild.
“Doesn’t matter what you do now. It’s done.” Then he fucking laughs. Laughs, for fucks sake.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He jumps to the side when I lunge for him, putting a table between us “What? Don’t like the idea of being humiliated in front of everyone you know? Poor little bully,” he teases. “I was just going to give them my regards, and then slip my little gift onto the table with the rest of the shit, but this is so much better, don’t you think?”
A girl dressed up like a serving wench ducks her head in to see what the commotion is about, but yelps and runs away when she gets a look at the two of us. Michael twists out of my way, and smacks a button on the laptop.
For a second I hesitate. That second is just long enough for a video to start pl
aying, but it’s not whatever sappy crap was supposed to run. Cheap-looking text pops up, and I see a flash of skin. Shit. There isn’t time to fuck around with the computer, so I do the next best thing and grab all the cords coming out of the back of the laptop and yank them, hoping one of them will stop whatever he just started.
Michael’s face twists into a nasty snarl. “Stop fucking everything up!”
“Me? You’re the fuck-up here!”
He grins at me and says just the one word, “Listen.”
The music has stopped in the main tent, and there’s a lot of confused murmuring. Then I hear it. The laptop is still playing the video. A man’s voice, distorted so the identity isn’t obvious, speaks. “Yeah, baby. Suck it. Fuck, I love that thing you do with your tongue.” He pauses, and for a moment the only sound is wet and familiar. Like someone sucking a cock. “You gonna take my cum like a good little slut?”
I glance at the screen and regret it instantly. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“You keep saying that, and yet I’m still here,” he gloats, edging towards the exit.
Over on the laptop, I hear Claire moan. I have two choices: go after Michael, or stop the video. My fists itch to feel his face cave under my knuckles, but for once I make the mature choice, which of course leaves me standing in front of the screen, alone in the tent when I hear a horrified gasp behind me. I hit stop, and turn around slowly, afraid to look.
Claire is standing there, staring at me with huge, terrified eyes. “How could you?” The devastation in her voice tears a hole through my heart.
“Wait, no, I didn’t—”
She doesn’t give me time to explain. “Is this your idea of a prank?” She sobs, then reins herself in, her eyes narrowing. “You knew this was the one thing I was afraid of more than anything else. You promised!” Her voice breaks.
“You can’t possibly think this was me.”
“No? Why not? It makes sense. First you embarrass me in the office, then you humiliate me in front of the entire company. What’s left?” She wipes her eyes and glares at me, daring me to deny it. “My family. Couldn’t ask for a better opportunity. I’m such an idiot.”
