Protection: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Wood, Vivian

“Hey, Con,” Rose says, the second Elly manages to get out of the hug. “You will never guess who’s here.”

  “I don’t know. Who?” I ask. I sound tired; I guess part of me has already accepted that Rose is going to wear me out in short order. This is why I leave, I think, and I don’t even feel that guilty about thinking ill of her.

  “Amy Carson!” she crows.

  “Oh… Rose, no. Please don’t start with that.”

  “She looks fan-fucking-tastic—”

  “Rose?”

  My father steps out of the restaurant and spies us, and I swear I’ve never been quite so relieved to see him.

  “Oh, it’s Connor and Elly! So glad you two made it down.” My father comes over and takes Rose by the arm, whispering something in her ear. She shoots him a glare.

  “I’ll see you guys soon,” she tells me and Elly, then stalks off toward the restaurant.

  God even knows what that was about.

  “Elly, nice to see you again. Are you checked in? Have you two been upstairs?” my dad asks, giving me a pat on the back. He glances at the jeans and t-shirt I’m wearing. “You’re not wearing that to dinner, are you? Lacy will be upset.”

  “We just walked in,” I say.

  “Oh, great. Well go get ready, and then come right back down, will you? We’re already starting appetizers and champagne.”

  “Fine,” I say, keeping my expression as neutral as I can. To Elly, I say, “Let’s go.”

  She gives me a glare that straight up looks like a fuck you, but she follows me to the elevators. We get in and ride up, and just being out of the lobby is the biggest fucking relief.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a big breath I’ve been holding.

  “I was really hoping that she wouldn’t be here.” I say it half to Elly, half to myself.

  “Mmm,” Elly says.

  I look up. Her arms are crossed, her eyes narrowed to slits, and she’s staring daggers at the floor.

  “What?” I ask. I want to say, I really don’t have the energy for this. But it’s Elly; I can’t bring myself to be callous on purpose.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Why are you pouting?” I ask.

  She turns that glare on me, her eyes flashing amethyst.

  “Rose?” she asks.

  “Oh, Jesus. Are you jealous right now?” I ask, appalled.

  “No,” she hisses.

  “You are. Elly, for fuck’s sake. That’s so inappropriate on so many levels,” I sigh.

  “Oh yeah? So you’re saying that if I find a hot guy at this wedding and I spend the whole night hanging all over him, you’d be fine with that?”

  Fuck no, I wouldn’t. Which is a god damn problem in itself…

  I grit my teeth.

  “Rose is my sister,” I snap.

  Elly’s mouth forms a little o of surprise.

  “Your… your sister?” she asks. Her surprise quickly turns back to anger. “I’ve known you for two months, been closer to you than most people ever get, and you never thought to mention her, huh?”

  I can feel a tension headache coming on, and Elly’s anger isn’t helping one bit. We step out of the elevator, and my tension comes to a quick boil.

  “Rose and I don’t exactly have what you’d call a good relationship. Also, you and I spend most of our alone time fighting or fucking; we haven’t exactly spent a lot of time having deep, emotional conversations about our whole life histories. So no, I guess I haven’t told you about my fucking sister. Can you just do me a favor and not dump your bullshit on me right now? I have enough to deal with.”

  There’s a flash of hurt in Elly’s eyes, a stiffening of her spine, then it’s gone. She stalks down the hall to her room and opens the door. Her face is a blank mask of disinterest, and at the moment I couldn’t be more fine with that. Let her pout if she wants.

  “Let me check the room,” I say, stepping in and checking it over. “Okay, you’re fine. See you back out here when you’ve changed.”

  I grab my suitcase and garment bags, and turn to head for my own room. A hot shower and a little quiet time will go a long way toward readying me for the shit show sure to happen later tonight.

  “No.”

  I stop and turn, giving Elly a curious glance.

  “What?”

  “You’re off duty for the rest of the weekend.” She studies her nails rather than look at me. “Can you get out now, please?”

  “Elly, you can’t—”

  “Connor, get out.”

  I heave a sigh and shake my head.

  “Don’t even think about leaving this room without me. I’ll be waiting for you in the hall when you’re ready,” I tell her.

  She ignores me until I step out into the hall, then slams the door behind me.

  Fucking women, I think. I start to wonder if I’ve ever had any problems that weren’t caused by women. Maybe not.

  I shower, shave, and dress in one of my casual suits. After a couple more minutes, I go out and knock on Elly’s door. I knock a few times, impatient. She never answers.

  Of course, of course she’s already gone downstairs.

  Grinding my jaw, I head down to the party. I don’t know what to expect from tonight other than knowing it won’t be any fun…

  But I know for damn sure that Elly isn’t going to make it any easier for me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Connor

  Three hours later, I’ve been proven perfectly right. This day just keeps getting worse and worse and all I fucking want is to go upstairs and be alone.

  When I get back downstairs, fifty or sixty people have shown up for the rehearsal dinner, and we have the hotel restaurant to ourselves. Everyone is seated at big group tables, but it seems loosely organized, so people are mingling and introducing themselves.

  I look for the two women sure to make me miserable for the whole weekend; both of them are doing exactly what I expected of them. Lucky me.

  Rose is already fucking drunk and making kind of a scene about a waiter bringing her the wrong drink.

  “I said gin and tonic. This is a vodka tonic. Are you some kind of idiot?” she asks the red-faced man as she shoves it toward him. “Get me. Another. Drink.”

  Elly, true to form, has found some blond guy to flirt with. She’s wearing this short, sparkly dress and keeps crossing and uncrossing her long bare legs, drawing looks from every single male in the room.

  I can’t blame them.

  There is a reason Elly was a starlet; her charisma is off the fucking charts. Plus, she’s hot enough to drive all the fucking rational thought right from your head.

  I would fucking know.

  If the guy notices that she keeps sending me heated, contemptuous looks, he doesn’t seem a bit upset about it. My fists clench, and I have a very satisfying fantasy about punching him in his stupid clean-cut fucking prep-school looking face.

  Before I can get drawn into that bullshit, though, my dad pulls me aside to talk to me. He’s had a few drinks. He smells like Scotch, and his suit jacket is long gone, sleeves rolled up. We’ve only just made it through the buffet-style dinner, so he might want to ease off, but it’s not my place to say so.

  “Can you try to contain your sister?” he asks. Blunt, as always.

  “No.” I cross my arms. “We’ve talked about this. You want to enable her, fine. But I am not her damn babysitter.”

  My dad presses two fingertips to his temple, giving me an aggravated look.

  “You could at least pretend you care.”

  “I do care. I’m the one trying to—” I stop, raising a hand. “I don’t want to fight tonight. But no, I’m not going near her if I have the choice.”

  And god help her if she lays into Elly…

  “I trust you’ll do what needs doing if things go south.”

  I glance at Rose, who is now standing at the bar, belittling the bartender. I make a noncommittal sound, which is more than I should do.

  “About the weddin
g,” my dad’s saying. “Taylor was supposed to be my best man, but he’s been sidetracked by a family emergency. I need you to stand in for him.”

  “Um… what does that entail?” I ask, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You hold the ring, you stand up there with us—”

  “Is Elly in the wedding?” I ask.

  My dad gives me a duh look.

  “Of course she is.”

  “Yeah, we can’t be photographed together in the wedding.”

  “What?” My dad looks startled.

  “I told you, part of my contract working for her stipulates that we act as a couple. If the press finds out that you and Elly’s mom are getting married, there will be hell to pay. You can see how that would look.”

  My dad pauses, frowning.

  “I hadn’t considered that.”

  “The wedding’s early afternoon, right?” I ask, and he nods. “I can probably keep Rose sober enough long enough to stand up there with you.”

  My dad heaves a sigh. Even he knows that this isn’t a good idea.

  “Up to you,” I say with a shrug.

  Across the room, Rose’s voice rises to overtake the room’s attention. She’s standing between the pissed-off looking bartender and what I assume is a manager, both of whom seem to be trying to herd her away from the bar.

  “My mother died,” she howls. “My husband died. Who the hell are you to tell me I can’t have a fucking drink if I want one?”

  “God damn it,” my dad and I say in unison.

  “This is why she needs to be in rehab,” I growl as we both walk toward Rose.

  “She did Betty Ford twice,” my dad hisses.

  “She needs to go to that six month place in Mexico.”

  “And who’s going to make her go?”

  I glare at him, but there’s no time to get into it.

  “Don’t call me ma’am!” Rose shrieks, flailing as the two men try to corral her. “You don’t fucking know me! Take your hands off me—”

  “Rose, calm down,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her, holding her arms down so she doesn’t slap anyone. “You are making a scene.”

  “Oh, it’s you,” Rose shouts. Her voice is getting hysterical. “Don’t touch me, Connor. I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, you’re doing a great job,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Please stop embarrassing me.”

  “What, your new girlfriend can’t handle it? Huh? Where is she? Where is she, Connor? Pretty pop star girlfriend, means you can just abandon your own sister…”

  “Okay,” I say, picking her up like a sack of potatoes. “You’re getting locked in your hotel room. I assume you’ve already cleaned out your own minibar.”

  “Fuck you!” Rose screams. “Fuck you, Connor Gray! You’re a fucking bastard!”

  She kicks and hits me as hard as she can, fighting like a wet cat and wailing like a banshee.

  “I need her keycard,” I tell my dad. He grabs it from where she left it on the table, and I take it wordlessly. This isn’t our first time going through one of Rose’s tantrums. Far, far from it.

  Ignoring the crowd, all of whom are now watching my every move, I carry Rose straight out and take her upstairs. By the time we’re in the elevator, she’s stopped hitting me. Once I’m on her hall, she’s dissolved into angry tears.

  “I’m sorry. Connor, I’m sorry!” she tries as I use the keycard to open her door.

  “Too late,” I say, walking in and depositing her on the bed. “You’re in lockdown now. You know the drill.”

  I stop and check her mini-fridge. Yep, empty.

  “Connor, wait—”

  “Go to sleep, Rose. I’ll be outside.”

  When I step out into the hall, my dad is waiting with two metal folding chairs.

  “Thanks,” I grunt. I unfold them both and jam one under the doorknob of Rose’s door. No chance of escape for her, not tonight. I wave off my dad’s concern. “Go ahead, I got this.”

  He pauses, looking conflicted.

  “It’s your wedding weekend,” I point out. “Go be with Lacy.”

  After another moment, he nods.

  “You’re a good son,” he says. “And a good brother.”

  I shrug and sit down in the second folding chair. As if on cue, the second my dad walks away Rose begins to rattle the door knob, trying to get out.

  “Go to sleep, Rose!” I holler through the door.

  “Bastard!” she wails, slurring. “You can’t keep me here! I have to go!”

  I know the feeling, sis. I wish I was anywhere but here.

  I close my eyes and lean back, ignoring her. The chair gets uncomfortable quick, so I sit on the floor with my back up against the wall. I rub my temples and neck, trying to relieve the furious tension headache that’s brewing in my muscles and brain.

  Eventually Rose goes quiet. Passed out, hopefully. Hard to tell, though. She’s crazy fucking tricky. I can’t leave her here with the chair under her door, in case there’s a fire or something. But I’d rather sit here and be miserable than face the prospect of chasing Rose down again an hour from now.

  And let’s be honest, I don’t really want to face those people downstairs either. All those pitying faces, giving me sympathetic looks. If they knew that my mom was exactly the same, that I grew up with this same shit and I’m just used to it…

  Yeah, that’s the only way that this could be worse.

  My head starts to pound and my mouth goes dry.

  I genuinely don’t want to answer their questions or make small talk. Not anymore, not tonight. When the elevator doors open a while later, I hold my breath, hoping it’s not some long lost cousin or something who will want to stop and chat.

  To my complete surprise, it’s fucking Elly. Followed by some way-too-young guy in a suit. Has she seriously come up here to flaunt her shitty hookup? I can’t fucking believe her right now.

  I don’t need this shit.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my face.

  I don’t think I can do this right now.

  “Connor?” Elly says.

  I glance up and she’s standing over me, looking worried.

  “Yeah,” is all I can come up with. I glance at her date. Damn, he’s young. What the hell is Elly doing?

  “Con,” she says, kneeling next to me. “You don’t look good. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I say, rubbing at my neck. “I just have a headache.”

  Every muscle is tense and knotted, and I’m starting to really hurt here. Still, I don’t want Elly’s fucking help right now.

  I want her out of my fucking face.

  “Con, this is my little cousin Grant,” Elly says. She takes my hand, surprising me with the gentleness of her voice and touch. “Your dad said that you can’t leave Rose alone. So I asked Grant if I could pay him to sit here outside her door?”

  I have no response to that, she’s shocked me so thoroughly. Elly bites her lip, giving me an anxious look.

  “He can’t control Rose,” I say after a minute.

  “No, but he can call us if she gets up.” Elly glances at Rose’s door. “Honey, she’s not going anywhere. Come on, let’s get you to bed, okay?”

  I give a grunt of laughter when little five-foot-nothing Elly tries to help me to my feet. I make it up okay, wincing when I feel a wave of nausea.

  “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I ask. “I feel… sick.”

  “I think you might be having a migraine,” Elly says, guiding me to the elevator. “My mom gets them sometimes, this seems pretty similar.”

  I just nod, closing my eyes while we go up the elevator. Elly takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and leads me down to my room.

  “I don’t have my key,” I mumble.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says, unlocking her room and taking me inside.

  The first thing she does is turn off the lights, which is an immediate relief.

  “Let’s get you undressed,
okay?” she says.

  I’m too tweaked out on my own pain to do much but nod. She strips me down with the lightest touch and then presses me down onto the bed, pulling the comforter up over me. She closes the curtains.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says.

  A second or an hour or ten years later, Elly gives me a gentle pat on the arm.

  “Con,” she whispers. “I need you to take this pill, okay? It’s going to make your migraine go away and help you sleep.”

  I sit up and dutifully take the pill she gives me, swallowing some water from a glass she holds. I lie back down, miserable. Elly moves around for a minute, then it’s quiet. I am pretty sure she’s sitting in a chair across from the bed, watching me.

  “El?” I ask.

  “Yeah? You need something?”

  “Nah. Will you lay with me?”

  She’s quiet, but soon I feel her lie down next to me. I’m on my side and she curls up around me, making herself the big spoon. It’s comforting beyond rational thought.

  She strokes my shoulders, rubs my neck in soft circles, runs the tips of her nails over my back in lazy figure eights. It relaxes me, makes me happy.

  I’m never fucking happy.

  The way she’s touching me, the way I feel right now…

  I feel…

  I force myself to go to sleep before I can finish the thought.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Connor

  “Smile!”

  I feel like my face is going to break just from doing two hours’ worth of posed and candid wedding photos. It’s been an elaborate runaround for Elly and me, because we have to avoid being caught in an intimate photo together — anything that could hint our two very different relationships.

  So we’ve gone through the whole wedding ceremony and the better part of the reception without really talking. Truth be told, I had my hands full babysitting Rose. Elly seemed busy attending to her mother, playing the doting Maid of Honor. That was the difference between Elly and me; I helped Rose out of guilt, where Elly helped her mother because it made her mother happy.

  What is it like to care for someone like that, even after they’ve done you wrong again and again? My gaze slides over to Rose and I frown.