ROUGH RIDER (49 page)

“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.

T
o
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.

When we stopped on my stoop, Preston turned to me. The sunlight filtering in past the awning was enough to make his eyes look green. “Got your keys?”

I held up my cheap ten-dollar clutch, the only bag I owned, and smiled faintly. “Got ‘em. Thank you again for lunch. And for driving me. And… well, for listening to me bitch for an hour.” I forced a laugh.

Preston smiled. “I hope it won’t be for the last time. In fact, I was hoping that we could do this again. Maybe after the weekend’s over?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. It was true that I’d had a nice time with him, but I had so much to worry about now that I wasn’t sure I could commit to another rendezvous, if that was the word for it.

“Look, Preston… I know for you, this isn’t a big deal, but I don’t have any options or money. I’ll be lucky to find a job before the month’s over. That’s what I have to focus on now. Keeping this place, as much of a shit hole as it is, and putting food on my table. Those have to be my priorities. You understand, don’t you?”