My Billionaire Stepbrother (12 page)

“Good luck,” I call.

They disappear in the direction of
the bandstand, and soon I hear the sounds of the quartet tuning itself. In a
few moments Veronique will be made a new star. My plan has succeeded, and I
didn’t even have to be the one to suggest that Veronique take the cellist’s
seat! Jacques did it for me, and now Amato – the most influential conductor in
the world – will never forget Veronique.

Her career is made.

And she doesn’t even suspect that I
had anything to do with it.

Sure enough, the music begins to
swell around me, smooth and free and light. Veronique’s cello sings like a
woman in love.

The party flows around the music,
every now and again a couple dancing or laughing or stopping to listen. My
mother and the Governor spread the story of Veronique’s last-minute heroism
throughout the assembly, and soon I hear Veronique’s name being whispered all over
the room.

Amazing,
they say,
she
plays incredibly! She’s so young, and so beautiful. So brave to jump in like
that and rescue the quartet.

Smiling proudly to myself, I can’t
help but feel that I’ve atoned for some of my bad behavior. Surely doing something
like this for Veronique makes up my douchebaggery before.

Surely this will set things right.

When the musicians stop to take a
break, I watch from across the room as Veronique is completely surrounded by
new admirers. Amato is their leader, boisterously bragging on discovering
Veronique. He is kissing her hand, leading her around the room, proudly
congratulating her and introducing her to several key arts patrons, just as I
had asked him to do.

It’s working.

I’m a fucking hero.

She’ll be in such a good mood after
this.

I’m gonna get so lucky tonight.

Satisfied, I duck out to get some
fresh air on the balcony and let Veronique spread her wings in her brave new
world.

My world.

I stare out over the bay again, now
plunged in the inky darkness of night, and find myself picturing a new future:
Veronique traveling the world playing music at the best concert venues, making
a name for herself – and me close by, on the balcony or in the wings, waiting
for her to finish for the night before taking her to bed.

We could travel the world together.

We could use her work as a guise to
buy some time to really get to know each other before having to tell our
parents or anyone about us.

Amato has already said he would
hire her if tonight went well, and I can see that it has. It would give us the
opportunity we need to escape together.

Maybe I can have my stepsister and
date her too.

“Remington?”

I turn around, surprised by the
soft voice behind me cutting into my fantasy.

It’s Veronique.

She’s standing in the doorway of
the balcony, silhouetted by candles. She’s never looked more beautiful. I can
just barely see her green eyes shimmering with emotion in the starlight.

“Veronique,” I say. “You…you played
beautifully. Congratulations.”

It sounds so flat when I say it out
loud, but I hope the fact that I truly mean it will convey the depth of my
excitement for her.

She takes a deep breath and walks
beside me, leaning against the railing and staring out over the capital city
like an empress surveying her kingdom. The silence around us is rich and
lovely, like sweet water.

“Thank you,” she says after a long
minute.

I pause, my heart beating. “For
what?”

She laughs. “You know for what. For
tonight.”

“I had nothing to do with it!”

“Right. Like I’m going to believe
that.”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“Liar.”

“Really.”

“Come on! You expect me to believe
that Signore Amato just
happens
to be randomly leading a
quartet
at a
private party
playing my
thesis?”

I grin. “Well…when you put it like
that, I admit it does sound a little fishy.”

“Fishy doesn’t begin to describe
it.”

Her eyes are twinkling at me,
playful and dangerous. A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through my body. A
breeze catches her scent and drifts it over to me, something like vanilla. God
she’s so close and so hot, it’s all I can do not to jump her bones right here
in public.

“Anyway, thank you Remi. I know you
made it all happen. I know a lot of weird things have happened between us, but
the fact that you’d go out of your way like this for me, and give me such a
huge career opportunity…it…means a lot.”

Her voice falters. And before I can
object she has thrown herself into my arms in an intense, firm hug. I stand
like a dumb tree, not knowing what to do – the energy from Veronique is
emotional, powerful, but not sexual. She seems oddly vulnerable and I don’t
know why.

My arms close protectively around
her waist.

“Well, you deserve it,” is all I
can say. “You’re an amazing musician, and a good person, and now some of the
most important people in your industry know it. I know having money from my
mother isn’t enough for you – you’ll need a creative outlet. It’s only a matter
of time until you have the career you’ve always dreamed of. Doors will open to
you.”

“Because of you.” To my surprise I
hear her sniffle. She pulls out of the hug, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I
never dreamed anyone else would help me,” she said. “I never dreamed so much
could happen so fast.”

“Whoa, it’s ok. Why are you crying?
I thought you were happy!”

“I am but – god! So much is going
on!” She flings her hands around, almost as dramatically as the Italian. “It’s
just that before the summer, my life was so crazy different. And now, just when
I can almost accept all this new stuff, things change again.”

“But it’s a good change, isn’t it?”

She steps back, taking my hand, and
sighs. “I’m not just talking about playing music tonight with Amato. There’s
something else. Remington, there’s something I have to tell you. Something
big.”

I laugh. Artists are always so
dramatic – never able to rest in the joy of the moment, always pushing forward
to something new. I take Veronique’s hands in mine, twining our fingers
together, and relishing the electric shock her skin sends down my body.

“Relax, ok? What could be bigger
than Amato?” I joke. “Just slow down and smell the roses. Everything is fine.”

She frowns, the playfulness fading
from her face.

Uh oh. Something is up.

“No Remington, I mean, I know this
isn’t a good time and I’m sorry about that. Especially after you’ve just done
something so kind, I know it’s not nice to shock you like this, but I must. It’s
too important to wait. I have to tell you something serious.”

“Oh come on, it’s a party. Can’t it
wait? Can’t you kiss me first?”

I reach to put my arms around her
waist again but she pushes me back, holds me away. Confused, I have no choice
but to groan in frustration.

“No, I can’t, please just listen to
me Remington; Remington, I’m pregnant.”

Chapter Fourteen

Veronique LaRoux

The Governor’s Ball, Victoria

“Oh my god Remi, please say
something! You’ve just been staring at me for like five minutes and I’m super
nervous. Please say something. Anything.”

I’ve never been in a war, but now I
feel like I know what a man looks like after you’ve dropped a bomb on him.

Remington is a mess. He hasn’t
moved, blinked, or breathed since I told him I was pregnant a few moments ago.
Or was it hours? It’s like time has stopped. It’s like Elvis has left the
building.

This is not a good sign.

I mean I wasn’t exactly expecting
him to be thrilled about my pregnancy. I was not exactly thrilled myself when I
first found out. Shocked, yes. Scared to death, yes. But comatose? No.

Yeah it’s bad timing. Yeah it’s a
curve ball. But I expected at least…a
reaction
!

If Remington doesn’t do something
soon I’m going to start rambling and talking just to fill the silence and that
can’t be good. That can’t help anybody.

Nervous chattering is never good.
Never helpful.

Oh god. Here it comes. I feel it
starting.

“I didn’t realize until last week,”
I blurt. “I think I skipped two periods without realizing it. So I took literally
about fifty pregnancy tests and they were all positive. Every single one. And
then I went to the resort doctor – in total secrecy of course. And he gave me
another pregnancy test. And it was positive. So, I’m definitely pregnant. No
doubt. It’s definitely real. It’s really true. I know, I know it’s fast: it’s a
surprise, it’s an accident, but I thought you had a right to know and to hear
it from me as soon as possible. So…god, please say something.”

Crickets.

Ok, nervous chattering didn’t help.
Surprise, surprise. Now what? It’s not like I’ve ever really been able to read
him or know where I stand with him, even on good days. And I have no way to
know whether this is a good day or a bad day. Here we are in the middle of the
Governor’s Ball after Remington has just done the kindest most generous thing
for me, introducing me to Signore Amato, and now I can’t tell if this news has
changed how he feels about me all over again.

I need to know what he feels. This
suspense is torture. I wish he would just put me out of my misery!

Jesus. Oh God. Help me, please.

“Remington?”

Nothing.

“You ok? Want to sit down? Should I
get you some punch or something?”

He blinks, turns his face away, and
leans against the railing, fluttering his lips like they tell you to do in yoga
classes.

What the hell does that mean? God,
I’m sweating now. Ok, so he didn’t actually say anything yet, but he finally moved.

Moving is good. Right?

“I’ll go get you some punch,” I
say.

But before I can walk back inside
to the party, I Remington’s hand closes around my wrist and pulls me back
beside him on the balcony.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says,
quietly. “Whoa.”

I wait, straining against my skin.
I can feel the pressure of the moment like hot air against my ears.

So he’s not really saying words and
he’s obviously muttering to himself, but this seems like a positive step. At
least he’s making sounds.

Why are men so fucking
frustrating?! Just a simple acknowledgement would help me so much right now.

“You’re pregnant,” he finally says.

Thank you. Jesus. Yes, thank you.
Was that really so fucking hard?

“Yup. I’m pregnant.”

“You’re sure?”

“Fifty-one pregnancy tests sure.”

“You saw the doctor?”

“I saw the doctor.”

He lapses again into silence, this
time his face frowning in the scariest serious expression I’ve ever seen him
make. When he turns back around to look at me, I can see that I’m talking to
Business Remington, not the passionate, rascally, brooding man I’ve gotten to
know as my hot billionaire stepbrother. This Business Remington is the Remington
Wilde that handles massive business transactions and shrewdly beats the press
at its own game, the one that poses on the covers of magazines and gives
speeches at universities. The impersonal Remington. His eyes sweep over me
coldly, assessing.

It doesn’t feel good.

“What kind of woman skips two
periods without noticing? How could you be so careless?”

My breath stops, my blood running
hot with anger.

“Me? Careless?!”

It doesn’t help that I thought the
same thing about myself at first. It was careless of me not to pay attention to
the time, but then, I had never had sex before. I had never planned on having
sex when I came to the Seychelles.

I had never dreamed I’d lose my
virginity and get pregnant at the same time.

“Everything happened so fast, Remi.
I didn’t intend on sleeping with you, or anyone, and I just wasn’t thinking
about it.”

“You must have noticed the timing. Are
you positive about the timing? Weren’t you taking birth control pills?”

“No.”

“I assumed you were on birth control!”

“Why would you assume that? We
never talked about it!”

“Fuck.”

“It takes two, Remi. We were both
careless. But this happened, and now we should try to talk about it without
attacking each other. Please.”

“Holy shit.”

“Please, calm down.”

“You did this on purpose. To trap
me.”

Stung, I stumble back from the
railing and stare at him.

“I did not! It was an accident! How
could you even say that to me, after everything that’s happened between us? Why
can’t you trust me? You wanted me too! It wasn’t like I was some seductress
trying to ruin your life! We got in this together. It’s an accident, but we can
figure this out. Together. Like you said earlier tonight. Together.”

His eyes are pained, troubled. I
wish he would let me close instead of pushing me away.

“Veronique, don’t toy with me. I
know all about the innocent-girl-gets-knocked-up plot, the strategy to gain
fame and ensnare me.”

“What are you talking about?! Why
would I do that?”

“It will make you famous, being
pregnant with Remington Wilde’s baby, won’t it? That’s what you wanted.”

“No, it isn’t! How could you think
so little of me?”

He stops short, his face suddenly
clearing and crumpling in confusion. “I don’t! You’re right; it doesn’t make
sense. You’re not…I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”

“Try to think less like a total
asshole, would you? This can be good news. We can make something good out of
this.”

“What could possibly be good? I
thought I knew you, but now I think I was wrong.”

I stare at him, my core feeling
suddenly thin and weak, realizing that he doesn’t trust me at all. He barely
even likes me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, to accept that this
pregnancy was really a surprise and not some weird convoluted plot. Could this
conversation be going any worse?

This is a nightmare.  

And the last thing I want is to go
through this alone.

“Being pregnant in no way changes
who I am, Remi. I’m still Veronique, still the same woman. But how you deal
with it, and how you’re treating me, definitely matters. This isn’t just about
you anymore. I could use your support, Remington. I could use your help. I
could use more of that kindness you showed me earlier tonight. I could use the
lover I knew three weeks ago, not the stepbrother who ignores me and lashes out
like a spoiled prince when he doesn’t get exactly his way.”

“Three weeks,” he mutters. “Three
weeks. That’s fast. How could you possibly know you’re pregnant in only three
weeks?”

His eyes grow cold again and he
stares at my belly. Then he says the worst thing anyone has ever said to me:
“Is it even mine?”

His words hurt so much I literally
can’t speak.

I have to turn my back and walk
away.

So I turn.

And walk away.

I run down the steps, past the party
crowd, past the people trying to talk to me about my cello, past the flowers,
past the food, past the front door. I am running out the front door, into the
street, through the nighttime city of Victoria, back to the house I’m sharing
with Dad and Diana, back to being alone.

Everywhere I turn, I’m running into
the truth: Remington doesn’t want the baby.

Or me.