PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance (25 page)

“She’ll have the beef bourguignon with
your Chateau Musar 2011 Jeune Rouge. Bring the bottle.”

Maddy finally seemed to relax some at
the promise of wine. Or at least, she did until the waiter turned to me and
asked, “And for the lady’s date?”

I laughed. It wasn’t meant to offend
Maddy, but I could see her cheeks flush. I waved my hand. “No, no. We’re not…
she’s my sister. Well, she will be, anyway.”

“I see,” the waiter said. “My apologies.
What can I get for you, Mr. Harvey?”

“The twelve-ounce Wagyu A5 Kobe, served
New York strip-style,” I said. It was one of my favorites. Most people were
told to order a day in advance, but I wasn’t most people. “With the regular
sides.”

“Very good, Mr. Harvey,” he said. It
seemed strange that he knew my name but I couldn’t remember his face, let alone
anything else about him. The hostess probably tipped him off. That’s just good
service. The waiter took our menus and hurried off in the direction of the
kitchen while I turned my gaze back on Madison.

“Where were we?”

She blinked. “You were ordering five
hundred dollars in beef, and I was telling you about how broke I am.”

I winced. “Right. Uh. Go on.”

She sighed, slumping back in her chair
and tucking a strand of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear. I liked the
way her nose twitched when she brushed the lock away from her face. It made the
light dusting of freckles over the bridge of it dance.

“It wasn’t just stuff like that, though.
There were other things that happened there. A lot of harassment, sexual and
otherwise.” She didn’t look at me when she said the words, like she was ashamed
of something that had been done to her by people outside of her control. “What
kind of place lets their managers call their administrative assistant a cunt
right to her face, just because she disagrees with him about a decision?”

I almost choked on my water. I glanced
around to see if anyone else had heard my stepsister utter the dreaded c-word.
“Christ. Didn’t you tell HR?”

“Of course I did,” she answered. “But
what do you expect them to do about it? It’s my word against a supervisor’s,
and as I understand it, that supervisor and the HR director are very good
friends.”

“So… I don’t know, go over her head.
Write the CEO, if you have to.”

She laughed. “Right. The CEO who doesn’t
know my name, who makes more money in a day than I do in a year. He’s going to
come fight my battles? I’d ask if you’d been drinking, but they haven’t even
brought the wine yet.”

“There has to be something,” I insisted.
I could feel my blood rushing now, boiling, burning in my chest. I didn’t get
worked up about a lot of things, but for some reason the idea of someone
hurting Maddy had me seeing red. “You don’t deserve to be treated like that,
Madison. Not by anyone. Ever.”

She looked at me for a long time, silent
and wide-eyed. There was something scrutinizing about her gaze, like she was
searching my eyes for some kind of answer. By the time her lips parted, the
waiter had returned and set the bottle of wine on the table between us.

“Shall I pour?” he asked me.

I tore my gaze away from Maddy. “No. I
think we’ve got it.”

Although he let us be, the
moment—whatever it was—was now gone. Maddy was now more interested
in the wine than whatever she’d been on the cusp of saying, and I didn’t know
how to ask her what exactly had been on her mind. I didn’t want to push things
with her. After all, this was the first real conversation we’d ever had, and I worried
that prying too hard would be a recipe for disaster.

But the more I thought about her
predicament—her job, her finances, the cold-hearted bitch her mother
was—the more I realized that I did, in fact, have an answer. It was the
answer to the question she hadn’t asked, the question that maybe she was too
proud to. But I had it all the same, and now that I understood what her silence
had meant, I knew what I had to do.

I was going to change Madison Hearst’s
life forever. She just didn’t know it yet.

And maybe, just maybe, I could kill two
birds with one stone.

MADISON

To
my utter shock, lunch with my brother-to-be wasn’t the disaster I’d
imagined.

Preston was a spoiled brat. I’d gleaned
that much on the first day I’d met him. He’d rolled up late to a family dinner
in a shiny new Tesla with a devil-may-care grin and lipstick stains on his
collar. I immediately knew everything I needed to know about him from that
point on—or so I’d thought.

The man sitting in front of me in the
restaurant was a completely different guy. He was genuinely concerned about me,
my job, and my future. He made me laugh and didn’t make me feel ashamed for
crying. I was starting to think maybe I hadn’t given him a fair chance. Sure,
he’d always be the rich kid and I’d always be the poor one, but there was no
reason we couldn’t be civil.

By the time we left the restaurant, I
was feeling better. I still didn’t have a game plan, but at least it felt like
someone was on my side in spirit. That meant a lot, not feeling alone.

“Do you have a car?” he asked me.

Slowly, I shook my head. The daylight
was a little disorienting after spending over an hour in the dimly-lit café.
“No. I take the bus wherever I need to go.”

Preston wrinkled his nose at me.
“Seriously? What about when you need groceries?”

I shrugged. “Not all of us can afford
eighty-five thousand dollar cars, Preston.” And then, in an effort to be less
defensive, I added: “It’s only me, so I try to only get a little at a time.
Lightweight stuff. Then I carry it back on the bus with me. It’s better if you
use those reusable bags. They don’t break like the plastic ones do.”

He stared at me like I was from some
other world. Maybe to him, I was. All he’d ever known were luxury vehicles,
grand manses and summer homes, penthouse suites and personal chefs. He’d never
wanted for anything a day in his life, and I sincerely doubted that Preston
Harvey ever took the bus—even to school.

But he didn’t say anything. He kept his
face a slate as he offered, “Well, you can’t walk home in those.” He nodded to
my shoes. “I’ll drive you.”

I raised my brows. “Really? You want to
spend more time with your stepsister?”

He smiled and shrugged, his buff
shoulders rippling underneath his button-down. He had the blazer draped over
his arm, and I didn’t blame him. It was warm out.

“You’re not all that bad,” he informed
me. When I pursed my lips, he chuckled again. “Hopefully you can say the same
for me.”

“Maybe,” I relented. “I’ll say this for
you: you’re definitely not who I’d expected you’d be.”

Now it was Preston’s turn to arch an
eyebrow. “And who were you expecting?”

“The guy who showed up late to dinner,”
I said. “The one who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed with a woman. You
know. A playboy. An elitist fuck.”

Preston grinned from ear to ear, one of
those shit-eating grins that would have looked infuriating on anyone else. And
it
did
look infuriating on him, too.
Just not in the way I had anticipated. Beneath my annoyance was amusement,
though I was loath to let it show. There was something about him, something I
couldn’t quite place, but the more I was in his company, the less irritating he
seemed.

I studied his face for a moment. The sun
made his short, tawny hair glitter like gold, and his impossibly blue eyes
sparkled like the clearest diamonds I’d ever seen. No, that wasn’t right. They
were more like the bottom of a glacier: a deep, frigid hue locked away beneath
a layer of ice that somehow seemed to be melting the more I stared at him.

I turned away, my heart beating in my
ears and my cheeks heating up. Preston was very handsome. Maybe if we’d met
under different circumstances… Maybe if our lives weren’t quite so different…

“All right,” I said, trying to clear the
awkward silence between us. “I’ll go with you. I’m really not all that far from
here, so you shouldn’t waste too much time.”

Preston shot me a look meant to remind
me that time wasn’t something he particularly worried about. Then he ushered me
down the sidewalk to his car, that beautiful Tesla I’d seen parked in the
driveway of his father’s estate the first day I’d met him.

I supposed billionaires and their sons
could do as they pleased, but I had to admit that I’d expected Preston to have
some sort of driver. Then again, from his suit, it looked like he might have
just come from a business meeting. I thought about asking him what it was
about, but I didn’t know a thing about his father’s company and in all
likelihood, knowing the details would only bore me.

I slid into the seat next to him, letting
the cream-colored leather cradle my body. It was supple and buttery, smooth and
warm, just the right temperature from having sat out in the sun half the
afternoon. I had to admit that I loved the car’s design. The angles and planes
were just so masculine, so clean, and the digital dashboard display was just
plain nifty.

I watched him plug in my address to the
built-in GPS system between the air vents. When he pulled out of the spot he’d
parallel parked it, it was like we’d hardly moved until he pressed the
accelerator and forced me hard into the back of my seat. The display of manly
car-grunt complete, we settled into the little trip.

“I have to admit, this is a really nice
ride,” I told him, admiring the contrast between the beige bottom half of the dashboard
and the charcoal-colored top. “Smooth, too. Feels like we’re floating.”

“And it’s eco-friendly,” Preston said,
putting on a pair of sunglasses as he merged into heavier traffic. “That’s sort
of a pet interest of mine. My father owns enough factories to personally be
responsible for the depletion of the ozone layer, but just because he doesn’t
see how harmful it is doesn’t mean I don’t. One day, when he’s gone, I’ll
change things.”

I blinked, impressed. “You’re going to
save the planet?
 
Duly noted. Any
other hobbies I should know about?”

Preston smiled. “Well, I like sailing. I
like the vastness of the ocean, how you can just ride out into the center of it
and there’s no one for miles around. It’s kind of like meditating, only I don’t
have to clear my mind—the sea does it for me.” Though I couldn’t see his
eyes, I thought Preston looked a little wistful. “I haven’t been out there in a
while, though. Not since our parents got engaged.”

“What does that have to do with
anything?” I asked him.

He sighed, turning down one of the side
streets the GPS had ordered him onto. “Ever since my father decided to remarry,
he’s been gung-ho about inducting me into the family business—more so
than usual. My best guess is that he’s considering an early retirement, but
that he wants to keep the money flowing in without having to worry about what a
board of directors might do with it in his absence. That falls on my shoulders.
Hell, the honeymoon they’re planning means he’ll be gone over a month, and I
guess that’s when he intends to hand over all of the control and
responsibilities to me.”

“Jeez,” I muttered, looking out the
window at the city passing us by. “What the hell are they going to do for over
a month, anyway?” I winced once I heard the words come out of my mouth. “Ugh,
no. Don’t tell me. I
really
don’t
want to know.”

Preston laughed. I was beginning to like
the sound of it. “Neither do I. So let’s talk about something else…” He eyed me
over his shades at an intersection. “Since we’re on the subject of love lives,
how’s yours?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help
but smile as well. “Nonexistent. You don’t have to worry about me flying off
for over a month any time soon.”

“Not even a boyfriend?”

“No. Not for a while.”

“Girlfriend?”

I looked back over at him and sighed,
shaking my head. “What about you?”

He hesitated long enough for me to get
the idea that if there was someone, it wasn’t an official someone—or at
least, nobody that he wanted to admit to. I briefly wondered if Preston was the
sort of man who used his wealth to rent out escorts, but then I considered how
attractive he was. With those muscles and that face, there was no way he had
any trouble picking up women for free, or as “free” as a billionaire could get
away with, I supposed.

“Not really,” he settled on at last. “No
one I would bring home, anyway. There’s this girl, but…” He trailed off as he
moved through the light. “We’re not in love, or anything. She doesn’t respect
my boundaries. I called it off a few weeks ago, but she still got her claws in
me. I have a feeling it’s going to get messy.”

I was surprised he was being so honest
with me. Surprised, and impressed. Preston was inspiring a lot of that in me
lately. Maybe I’d finally found a family member who gave a shit about someone
other than themselves.

“If you’re not happy, it’s better to cut
things off now. Cold turkey,” I assured him, dispensing my first piece of
possibly-unsolicited sisterly advice. “The longer you drag things out, the
worse it will be in the end. If she’s as bad at reading your intentions as you
say, then giving her any hope might seem like some kind of promise. And next
thing you know, you’re screwed.”

Preston nodded slowly. I could tell by
the way the muscle twitched in his jaw that he was mulling over everything I’d
just said. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing. Still, it’s hard to
let someone down like that, especially when you think they might go off the
deep end the moment you do.”

“It’s better either way,” I said. “Trust
me. I’ve lived through it. I know.”

It was true. My last relationship had
ended badly. We’d been together two years, and they were the most hellish of my
life. Sometimes I couldn’t figure out which was more abusive: Tyler—my
ex—or my job.

Former
job,
I reminded myself as my apartment building
came into view. The trip hadn’t lasted very long. It really put into
perspective what a roundabout way the bus took.
All this family bonding has been great and everything, but don’t
forget: you’re still screwed.

As soon as Preston put the Tesla into
park, I could feel a panic attack swelling in my chest. I sat still for a
moment, trying not to think about how bad things were, how this might be the
last month I’d spend living in my upstairs apartment. I felt sick to my stomach
suddenly, like I was going to throw up, but then Preston put his hand over mine
and I gasped out loud.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

I turned. His face was so close to mine
that I could smell his cologne. There was something luxurious and silken about
it, maybe Givenchy or Clive Christian. The latter wouldn’t surprise me. It was
the most expensive cologne in the world, but someone like Preston Harvey could
certainly afford it.

Right now, I wasn’t thinking about his
money. I was thinking about the flash of his eyes, the sharp cut of his jaw,
the soft strength of his hand holding mine. On some strange instinct, I lifted
my thumb out from beneath his palm and caressed the backs of his fingers,
brushing the pad down from his knuckles to the tips of his nails.

He didn’t move his hand away, nor did he
tear his eyes from mine. There was comfort in his embrace, but the longer our
hands remained entwined, the more I felt that solace shift to something more.

Something darker. Something more heated.
Something that I wasn’t sure if it terrified me, or if it gave me the greatest
thrill I’d ever known.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been
appropriate. I removed my hand from his grasp and used it to brush my hair out
of my face. “I’m fine,” I lied, sighing as the offending strand fell back into
my eyes only a moment later.

Preston lifted his hand then, the same
one he’d used to hold mine, and swept my hair back into place for me this time.
His fingertips trailed down the side of my neck when he did so and I felt him
leave goosebumps in his wake.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said. It wasn’t a
question.

I stepped out of the car, sucking in a
breath of reality. Everything that had happened inside of it seemed laughably
strange now, and I was reminded of my situation all-too-clearly once we began
to mount the stairs. Obviously, I’d just been desperate for some kindness,
which Preston had provided. I was in a low place, and I’d let my emotional
needs get the better of me. He was my stepbrother, or he soon would be, and
there was no way anything romantic was happening between us. The poor guy was
probably wondering what the hell kind of damaged goods he was letting into his
family with the way I’d just behaved.