Bend (A Stepbrother Romance) (9 page)

“So,” I replied, staring down into my cup. I took a deep breath.
At least it’s Zach
. He was one of the younger writers around the office—probably close to Keir’s age, actually. He had a real surfer boy look and accent—wavy blond hair, golden tan, bright blue eyes. Not my type—Keir was my type—but all the other women in the office cursed over the fact that Zach had a boyfriend.

It didn’t stop them from hitting on him. Luckily he found it all very entertaining.

“I can’t get you an interview,” I told him. “I just can’t. Keir’s pissed.”

“Neither of you knew about your parents?”

“Nope,” I said. “I don’t think he believes me, But we were both pretty damn shocked.”

He pulled out his notebook. “Zach,” I protested, “I don’t want to be the subject of some article. Come on.”

“It’s gonna happen. Would you rather have me write it, or have someone else make up all the sordid details?”

I sighed. He had a point, damn him.
Damn him and his dimples
.

“Short version? I met him after a concert. He’d just broken up with that model, Kelly what’s-her-face.” My mind flashed back to my pictures, but I didn’t feel like helping this article along any more than was absolutely necessary. “Keir asked me to join him last night at that charity thing.”

Zach scribbled quickly. “Charity thing. Got it. Very descriptive.”

“You’re the writer, not me,” I teased. “We drank some champagne, went back to his hotel room, and that’s that. I had no idea that my mother even knew his father at all.”

“Hmm.” He chewed on his pen. “Think we can talk to your mother?”

Oh, she’d absolutely love that. It would be the highlight of her year
. “No,” I said, “I’d rather not ask her.”

His eyebrow went up. “Why not?”

“We’re a little… estranged.”
And she’d enjoy it too much
.

“Interesting.” He made another note. “I’d love to talk to her and to Mr. Sonder. It would do wonders for your career, you know, if you could hook us up.” He smiled. “Wendi never forgets a favor.”

Wendi Whitford, the blog’s editor-in-chief—she barely knew my name. I preferred to keep it that way. Climbing the tabloid ladder was not one of my career goals.

“If I promise to ask if I see them, and that’s a big if… will you keep the article short?” No way was I telling him about the next day’s visit, no matter what he promised. Zach smirked. I hated how adorable it was. “Promise not to give this to any of the other writers and I’ll do my best to keep the stepsibling jokes to a minimum.”

“Is that the best deal I’m gonna get?” He nodded. Sadly, he was telling the truth—I just couldn’t envision anything coming out of this whole story that wouldn’t make any of us look bad.

“So, who’s the villain?” Zach asked, wiggling his eyebrows like this whole thing was some endlessly amusing conspiracy.

“Huh?”

“Every story has its villain. I know it isn’t you, and we can’t make it Keir. So. Your mom? She a gold-digger? Man-eater? Or his dad, is he a womanizer? Will he break her heart before or after the pre-nup conditions expire?”

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.

“It’s a vicious business, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “Take comfort in the fact that no one will care a week after they read about it.”

Some comfort
. Keir really was going to kill me—him and his father. Talking to Zach was a mistake. Not talking to him? I could have ended up fired.

“Don’t look so grim,” he said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “It’s impossible not to make a few enemies in this business. But I’ve got your back!”

I shook my head. “I didn’t want Keir to be my enemy,” I said.

“Yeah. I don’t blame you. Dude’s hot as fuck. Tell me, was he good?”

“Zach!” I laughed, scandalized. But it was impossible to stay mad at his cherubic face. “I can’t tell you that!”

“Okay, okay,” He held up his palms in a gesture of defeat. “This is enough info to get me started. Score me a chat with Mom or Dad, though, and I’ll be your best friend forever.” He lifted his coffee cup in a mock salute. “And I’m sure there’d be a promotion in store for you.”

I sighed. It wasn’t the most exciting prospect. But it would be nice to be able to afford to jettison one or both roommates. “I’ll see what I can do.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Keir

Women
.

I curled my lip and sipped my drink, alone at the airport bar. I was due to hop on a quick flight to Vegas for a concert the next night, but that was the last thing on my mind.

I twirled my phone on the smooth wooden surface. I was still ignoring calls from my father. Sloane had already torn me a new asshole and I didn’t need a third.

Fuck. My stepsister. I fucked my stepsister.
It was almost comical.

It wasn’t as if we’d grown up together. Hell, we were two consenting strangers enjoying a one-night stand. But holy shit, were the papers and the blogs having a field day with it.

I didn’t even care about that. There was no such thing as bad publicity, though Sloane seemed to disagree. No, what I cared about was my idiot father marrying another woman who would sink her greedy claws into his heart and his bank account. And this one had a scheming daughter, who’d sunk her own talons into me. I was supposed to believe that she didn’t know what her own mother had been up to? I wasn’t buying it. It was too convenient.

I sipped my whiskey, but it did nothing to soothe the anxiety that churned my stomach and vibrated though my veins. What was their endgame, here? Money? Fame? Were they hoping to score a fucking reality show, or something? That would be rich. I could just imagine the puns that would emerge.
The Brady Bunch
jokes, the fucking Lannister jokes—they’d never end.

I couldn’t sit there any longer. If I blew off rehearsal and the sound check, I could arrive at the venue as late as eight and still start the show on time. Flying was stupid; I could make the drive back to LA in under four hours. That gave me plenty of time to show up at home and meet Dad’s newest woman and size her up.

It would be better than stewing. My band would appreciate it, too. I drove them too hard. Not having me around for a few hours would be like a vacation. The sound guys would be pissed but they would figure it out.

Fuck it.

I leapt from my stool, dropped some cash on the bar, and headed straight for the rental car counters. A dumb move, running through the public areas of the airport without a security team, but I wasn’t thinking completely clearly.

How could I? Betrayed by the woman who I’d thought was actually different. Genuine. Real. I was lucky I wasn’t comatose on the barroom floor.

I’d figure out what their con was. This wasn’t going to stand. The public embarrassment was nothing. Meaningless. But she’d made me feel shit for her.

And now I felt like an idiot.

═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═

My father’s estate was a Spanish-style structure surrounded by gardens—lavish enough to impress the hell out of the likes of Cadence, I was sure. I was less enthused. It wasn’t my childhood home, and really, it lacked any personality or warmth at all.

Which was why I didn’t bother driving out to stay there when I was in my home city. It was easier to just get a hotel room.

There was a strange, ugly old car sitting in the driveway when I pulled up—probably his new wife’s. It definitely wasn’t his. I was surprised he let the thing sit out front at all, where anyone could see it.
Maybe she just got here
.

I let myself in and called out from the foyer, “Dad?” My voice echoed around the high-ceilinged space.
Would it kill him to put a rug down somewhere?
“Hello?”

I wandered through the quiet house. There was some evidence of life—a jacket over a chair at the kitchen table, a purse, a pair of shoes. I ignored the sinking feeling in my gut.
Another woman moving in on his life. Our life. Can’t wait to see what sort of damage this one does.

The sound of feminine laughter reached my ears, coming from the back. I drew the blinds aside and spotted my father and his new wife sitting on the lounge chairs by the kidney-shaped pool.

There they were. My father, a bigger oblivious idiot than even me. And his new woman. She’d leave him destitute if she could, but she’d take whatever settlement his lawyers offered. Again.

I couldn’t stop the sneer that spread across my face as I stepped outside. “Hey, Dad. Who’s the lottery winner this year?”

“Keir.” He narrowed his blue eyes. “You’re supposed to be in Vegas.”

“Supposed to be, but I’m not. I guess you aren’t managing me very well.” I approached the woman. “Keir Sonder,” I said, extending my hand.

“Oh,” she tittered, evidently taking my lottery comment as a joke, “I’m Victoria.”

She had the same eyes as Cadence. Same color, at least, all greens and golds. But they held a different light. Or rather, no light at all. They were vacant.

Or maybe that was the Botox.

Or… I sniffed the air. “Are you two getting high out here?”

“Excuse us, Victoria,” my father said, rising from his chair. “I need to speak to my son in private for a moment.”

I followed him inside, rolling my eyes behind his back and feeling like an unruly teenager about to get an infuriatingly patient lecture.
Some things never change
.

He turned to speak as soon as the door was shut but I cut him off, first. “I don’t know what kind of crazy fucking scheme these women are running, but you’ve got to get the hell out of this. Did you see those headlines? How many of these gold-diggers are you going to keep paying off? It would make more sense to just hire a fucking hooker to move in.”

He cleared his throat and nodded to his right.

And there was Cadence, standing in the hallway in a bathing suit, clutching a towel to her chest.

I dropped my gaze. I should
not
have felt bad. The girl had conned her way backstage, flirted her way into my bed, and was now my stepsister through some grand scheme of hers and her mother’s. She’d made me look like a giant fucking idiot and who knew what heinous plans they had for my father.

It was all well and good to remind myself of these things, but it did nothing to make me feel any less guilty.

“Cadence,” Dad said gently, “I apologize for my son’s deplorable behavior. He never did learn any proper manners, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at him.” She nodded, the shocked and hurt expression still frozen on her face. “Go on outside. We’ll be right behind you.”

She jumped as if bitten and fled the room, ducking her head and avoiding looking at me at all. I couldn’t help scanning her as she passed us by—couldn’t help appreciating the shape of her ass in that little black bikini.

“You’re leering.” I was still staring in her direction long after she shut the door. My father’s voice broke me out of my trance.

“I’m not leering.”

“You like her.”

I shook my head, as if my denial could do me any good. “I’m not as gullible as you.” We looked very much alike, my father and I, though you couldn’t tell at first glance, with our personal styles being so different. And Cadence and her mother, they resembled each other as well. I shuddered.
Too fucking weird. Way too fucking weird.
“I should go.”

“You should apologize first.”

“But—”

“And then that’s the end of this conversation. I mean it.” There it was. The quiet anger that I dreaded. My father never yelled; he didn’t need to. The soft delivery of his threats was far more frightening. “Don’t forget who controls your career.”

I felt about two feet tall when he spoke to me like that, with his gaze unwavering, with that ever-so-slight disapproving curve of his lip. But I stood my ground. “Really, Dad? You’d threaten my career? It wouldn’t make
you
look very good if failed to manage me properly.”

His eyebrow quirked just a fraction. “You think people care about you much more than they do.” Sometimes I wished he was a different sort of asshole. I wished he’d just hit me, instead. At least then I’d have a justifiable reason to sock him back.

Finally, his expression softened. “I wouldn’t flush your career, Keir, but I can make it very unpleasant for you.”

“Why don’t you, already? You hate what I do.”

“Believe it or not, I actually want you to be happy.” Well, shit, now
I
felt like the asshole. “You’ve got two options: you can be pleasant to your new stepmother and stop leering at your stepsister, or you can get your ass out to Vegas. But no more bullshit. You’ve said your piece and I’ve heard enough. Understand?”

“Got it,” I said, “Mouth shut.”

Then, surprising the shit out of me, he winked. “Mouth shut and hands off. No more headlines.”

I cracked a grin. At least he was in good humor about it. Even if he was about to get grifted. I’d keep my mouth shut but there was no way I was going to just let this go. “Think I’ll stick around for a bit. Figured I’d drive out in the morning.”