Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (33 page)

“Jesus Christ.” I rub my face with my hands. “You can do this. And when you’ve got your own thing going, you’re going to be bringing these fuckers down left, right and center. They’ll crash and burn, and it’ll be all you. Claire ‘The Badass’ Anderson.”

“That’s a really crappy nickname.” Her face softens for a moment. “But for being an asshole, you say some nice things sometimes.” She takes a deep breath and pulls herself back together. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

“Good, but just for the record.” I open the door for her. “If he makes another comment about where I should stick my dick? I’m going to teach him a lesson about keeping
his
mouth shut.”

Claire laughs. “My hero.”

“I’ll find a way for you to thank me later.” I grin at the playful punch she lands on my arm.

The first thing I notice when we get back to the room is the acrid smell of cigar smoke. Oh fucking hell. “Mr. Cooper, I’m afraid there’s no smoking in this building.”

He looks up, his eyes going wide, like a schoolkid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. With a practiced motion, he grabs a sheet of paper from his documentation, folds it up tightly into a little cup and then quickly stumps his cigar in it. Miraculously, it doesn’t catch. He at least has the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry. It was just for a moment.”

I sigh. The cigar is probably the least offensive thing he’s done all day and
that’s
what he apologizes for. Let’s get this over with. Claire takes the chair next to me. Her eyes are tight, but she’s shutting up, and that’s all I ask right now.

“That was quick. A pretty thing like her, I suppose I wouldn’t take long either.” Cooper indicates Claire with a nod of his head.

I look him right in the eyes, which are practically glowing with what he’s imagining Claire doing. “Ms. Anderson is a trusted employee of this firm and she is assisting me in this case. We’re going to do our best to ensure a favorable outcome for you and your company, Mr. Cooper, but if you make another comment like that again, I’m going to break your face. Do we understand each other?”

Dad’s going to fucking kill me, but I have my limits.

Cooper recoils like I’ve already hit him. “Jesus fuck. Is this how you treat all your customers? One of you insults me, then the other threatens me? What is this shit?”

He’s such a caricature of a sleazy businessman that I find it hard not to laugh.

“Sir, I’m only asking for a minimum of respect. Quite frankly, given your situation, you are lucky we’re willing to work with you. There will be no more outbursts from Ms. Anderson, and I apologize for those, but we’re all professionals here and we expect to be treated as such. You respect us, we respect you. Otherwise... I become unhappy. Alright?”

When this meeting is over I’m going to have to ask Carl to get someone to scrub down the room. The cigar is bad enough, but something about Cooper makes me want to bleach everything he’s touched.

Cooper nods quickly. He’s a bully, but like most bullies, when he meets a bigger one, he backs down. And I’m by far the biggest bully in the room. “Alright. Fine. So long as you get me off the hook.”

I lean back. “I think we’re done here. Unless you have anything else to add, we’ll end this meeting now, and get back to you next week. Deal?”

Cooper gets out of his chair, obviously eager to get out of here. “Deal. I’ll expect some results then.” He puts out his hand, and against my better judgment, I take it. It’s like shaking hands with a cold dead fish. I’m going to wash my hands after this.

The door shuts behind him and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I feel like a shower. How about you?”

Claire leans back, shoulders relaxing for the first time in a couple of hours. “I think that’s the first thing I’ve agreed with you on all day.”

“You know, if you’re really serious about having a positive impact...”

She looks at me curiously. “Huh?”

“Forget it, it’s probably too much for you.”

“No really, what?” Claire’s expression is so serious I almost feel bad.

“There’s a gym downstairs, and since water conservation is one of the most important issues facing the world today, I was thinking maybe a joint effort was in order.”

“What are you—Declan!” She throws a pen at me, but it was worth it to see her smile again after the shitty afternoon we’ve had. “In your wettest dreams.”

“Yours and mine both, little sis.”

Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t deny it.

And with that, I open the door and leave the room.

D
ing.

Fifty-fourth floor, we meet again.

I heft the box of donuts I picked up on the way to work, trying to avoid getting powdered sugar all over myself. Every day that shop has tempted me when I walked by, but it’s finally Friday, and I’ve more than earned a treat.

Massive overtime and dealing with Declan every day? I should eat the whole box.

Carl must have some sort of supernatural donut sense, because he’s already staring at the box when the door opens. He glances briefly up at my face before looking back down. “Are those... for sharing?”

I laugh. “Yeah, that was the idea. Invitation only though. If word gets around too far, there won’t be any left for me.”

“No, that would be a tragedy.” He looks at me with a grin. “I’ll keep quiet about it... for a price.”

With a smile I open the box and let him get first pick. He pulls out a cruller and takes an appreciative bite. “Ms. Ander—Claire, I think you will go far in this firm.”

“Thank you, Carl.” Yep, not above bribing the locals. “I’m considering making this a regular Friday thing. You’ll be the first to know.”

He laughs, straightening his thick glasses. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Alright, I should get to my desk. Lots to do.” I close the lid, ignoring his pout as he watches the donuts disappear.

He chews slowly, and swallows. “Wait, before you go.”

I cock my head, knowing what’s coming. “Yeah?”

“Why do they bury lawyers under 20 feet of dirt?”

Whatever the answer is, I know it’s going to be horrible. “No idea, Carl.”

“Because deep down, they're really good people.” He cackles at his own joke.

I shake my head and walk off to my desk. One day I’ll ask him whether he really dislikes lawyers, but it’s almost more fun not to know.

The door to Declan’s office is open when I get there, but he doesn’t seem to be in. I can deal with a morning of peace and quiet. I set the donuts down, plop into my chair and let my gaze settle on the picture of me and Dad.

Part of the reason I’ve been working so hard is so I don’t have to think. Well, that, and Declan’s given me so much research to do I’m not sure I’ll get it done if I have all summer. Still, I haven’t really come to terms with the case yet, and I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying his memory.

Half an hour later, Declan arrives and walks right by my desk, grabbing a Boston creme on his way to his office. Not even so much as a hi.

“Hey! How do you even know you’re allowed to take one?” I snap at him.

His head pops back out through the doorway. “I just figured you wouldn’t bring donuts to school if you didn’t have enough for the whole class.” He takes a bite, licking away the filling that spills out onto his thumb. “You weren’t planning on eating them all yourself, were you?”

I try not to think too much about how I’d like to be the one to lick that off instead. “No, but a hi would’ve been nice.”

“Oh. Hi.” He shrugs and disappears into his office, closing the door behind him.

He’s been more bearable since our meeting with Cooper, but maybe that’s just because we’ve been too busy to bother each other as much. I still can’t tell if he’s a nice guy with moments of jerk, or a jerk with moments of nice.

My phone buzzes. I don’t even bother to look. Messages have been ticking in from Michael all morning.

Forgive me.

I <3 u.

I miss you.

Please call me.

I can’t let you go.

More and more of the same, and all of it’s too little, too late. The day after, he might’ve gotten me to listen. Two days after, and it was already getting iffy. Four months later... well, now it’s just sad.

What does he think is going to happen? That after all he’s done, he can just send a couple of sappy messages and I’ll take him back? He’s got to be out of his freaking mind.

My phone buzzes again. I can’t help it. My eyes flit over to see the preview.

I’m so sorry, babe. :(

With a sigh, I flip my phone over, so I can’t see the screen. I don’t have time for this. He’s the idiot who chose to throw away three years of our relationship over some big-breasted blonde. There’s no way I’m letting him back in, and good riddance.

Why do all the men in my life have to be such idiots?

W
hy do all the women in my life have to be so much fucking trouble?

Outside my door, one of them sits there, reminding me of why I have my one night rule. More than that, and suddenly you have to worry about feelings and shit. They expect things. Things that don’t just include a good solid fuck.

Because we did that already, and yet here we are, still going in circles.

We’re dancing around each other like horny teenagers, afraid to make the first move. Every day I’m tempted to put my finger on the intercom and call her into my office.

In my fantasies, she kicks off her shoes and loosens her top before asking me what she can do for me in that husky voice she gets when she’s turned on. I roll my chair back, and she kneels between my legs, licking those sexy lips. Leaning forward, unbuttoning my pants. Opening her pretty mouth. Sticking out her tongue while looking up at me with those big brown eyes.

My pants grow uncomfortably tight at the thought.

I sigh. I can totally imagine how it’d go down for real, and going down wouldn’t actually be part of it.

I should ask to have her moved to some other case, but then she wouldn’t be here anymore, and that sounds just as bad. She thinks I’m a jackass, but I’m not letting her go yet. Not while she’s still this ripe, succulent forbidden fruit hanging just out of reach. A fruit I want to pluck.

And then something that rhymes with pluck.

There’s talking outside my door. It’s too muffled to hear what they’re saying, but it’s Claire and some guy. She laughs, relaxed and easy. Not pissed off and throwing shit, like she does with me. Not knowing what they’re talking about annoys me. I haven’t seen anyone—other than me that is—sniffing around her, but a sexy little intern who’s about to be related to one of the partners? It wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t just the donuts attracting attention.

She’s vulnerable; bad breakup, emotional case, asshole boss. If anyone hurts her, I’ll have to smash their face in. The idea of someone else getting in there and taking advantage of her bothers me more than it should.

What the hell? I’m not actually starting to like her, am I?

If it was just Claire, I could deal. Being friends—preferably with benefits—wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

But it’s not just her. There’s her goddamn mother.

Annette drives me up the fucking wall. I’ve promised Dad to stop giving her a hard time, but she’s taking over his home. My home until I went to college. New paint, new furniture, new rugs, new paintings, new fucking everything. All being rushed in to get ready for their damn wedding. Every new thing pushes something else out, and I’m watching her erase every trace of Mom we have left, while Dad just smiles like the sun rises and sets in her pussy.

What is it with these women? How have they managed to wrap both of us around their delicate little fingers?

I check my email, not surprised to see a note from my father. He finally heard about my trouble with Cooper. It drives me crazy to have him watching over my shoulder the whole time. Dad knows I’m one of his best. If there’s anyone who’s made him more money this last quarter, I’d like to know who the fuck it is. No one, that’s who. But apparently we care about
decorum
and
not acting like a kid.

If he knew what Cooper said, I bet he wouldn’t be telling me about running out of chances.

Fuck him, and fuck his chances.

What I want to do right now is tell the entire office to go to hell and then spend the weekend getting drunk enough to forget all about Claire, our parents, and this shit show of a case. I’ll find someone who reminds me of her, screw her brains out, and then come back next week ready to get on with my fucked up life.

The one I used to enjoy.

But what I do is pull up yet another boring as shit record of some other poor schmuck’s case defending some other asshole and start taking notes.

Four months ago, I walked into a party feeling like something had to change.

Now I want to go back in time and tell myself to run the other way, because change fucking sucks. I don’t want to feel drawn to my soon-to-be step-sister, and I don’t want her self-righteous morals to infect my brain, making me question everything I’m doing.

I need to get her off my mind, or onto my dick.

One or the other needs to happen soon or I’m going to fucking blow.

M
onday. I’m so over this stupid elevator ride.

I had a nightmare last night where I was stuck in a twilight zone version of reality where the floor numbers kept going up in smaller and smaller fractions, and the closer I came to the fifty-fourth floor, the slower it rose, so slow that I never quite got to work. Eventually someone would probably come to check, finding my desiccated corpse inside, a tiny fraction of an inch away from freedom.

Maybe I’m just too excited to be patient this morning, because today is a special day.

Today I get revenge.

Ding.

I step out, a little earlier than usual. Just making sure that I get here before Declan.

Carl looks up and smiles. “Donuts again? But it’s not Friday.” Realizing he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, he quickly adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

Laughing, I open the box and present it to him. “It’s a special occasion. Help yourself, but I advise strongly to keep away from the Boston cremes.”