Copyright © 2020 by Claudia Burgoa
Cover by: By Hang Le
Edited by:
Amy Briggs
Kristi Falteseik
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www.claudiayburgoa.com
Contents
Also By Claudia Burgoa
1. Nyx
2. Nate
3. Nyx
4. Nate
5. Nyx
6. Nate
7. Nyx
8. Nyx
9. Nate
10. Nyx
11. Nyx
12. Nate
13. Nate
14. Nyx
15. Nyx
16. Nyx
17. Nyx
18. Nyx
19. Nyx
20. Nate
21. Nyx
22. Nate
23. Nate
24. Nate
25. Nyx
26. Nyx
27. Nyx
28. Nyx
29. Nyx
30. Nate
31. Nyx
32. Nate
33. Nate
34. Nate
35. Nate
36. Nyx
37. Nate
38. Nyx
39. Nate
40. Nyx
41. Nate
42. Nate
Epilogue
Excerpt
Wrong Text, Right Love
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also By Claudia Burgoa
Also By Claudia Burgoa
The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series
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Loved You Once
A Moment Like You
Defying Our Forever
October 2020
Call You Mine
February 2021
As We Are
June 2021
Yours to Keep
September 2021
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Against All Odds Series
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Wrong Text, Right Love
Didn’t Expect You
Love Like Her
March 2021
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Second Chance Sinners
Pieces of Us
April 2021
Somehow Finding Us
May 2021
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Standalones
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Us After You
Almost Perfect
Once Upon a Holiday
Someday, Somehow
Chasing Fireflies
Something Like Hate
Then He Happened
Maybe Later
My One Despair
My One Regret
Found
Fervent
Flawed
Until I Fall
Finding My Reason
Christmas in Kentbury
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Chaotic Love Duet
Begin with You
Back to You
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Unexpected Series
Uncharted
Uncut
Undefeated
Unlike Any Other
Decker the Halls
To Patricia, thank you for all your support and love.
“Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.” —Helen Keller
One
Nyx
All my adult life I’ve been fighting to be somewhat normal. To be the most conventional one in the family—or the only one for that matter.
My parents are…different. My three siblings… Well, they aren’t like our parents, but they stand out easily in any crowd. Not me. Or at least I try to stay away from people’s radars, unlike them.
While we were growing up, my parents believed we could learn more from the world than in a classroom. Were they right?
The jury is still out deliberating.
One thing I can say is that my dad is one of the wisest, most clueless men in the world. I understand how ambiguous that sounds, but my father isn’t like any conventional sixty-three-year-old guy. Octavio Brassard is unique among any men. He lives by his own rules and has a license to teach young adults about ancient civilizations.
According to Dad, we’re here to learn how to love, how to live, and how to preserve this world. Not that we, the human race, are doing a great job at any of those things. He insists that the most important moments in our life happen unexpectedly. That’s why we have to stop and smell the roses. Maybe one of those special moments is the one that transforms our lives.
In that split second, we could find our destiny.
He’s a philosopher, a poet, and one of the most loving people I know. He pushes us, his children and students, to believe in ourselves and always pursue our dreams. Take life by the balls. And no, my father doesn’t believe in censoring our language.
Something else I learned from my parents is that family comes before anything and everyone.
This is why I’m spending my weekend working with my oldest brother, Eros, who like my father, is a dreamer. He doesn’t like to think much about the bottom line, rather what he can do to change the world.
“I could be with Persy drinking margaritas,” I protest, as I go through the partnership proposal he received from LNC Investments.
I could spend my time with my sister, who I haven’t seen that much during the past couple of months.
“Persy is actually drinking some strawberry lager Dad made,” he corrects me. “It tastes like fruity shit.”
I glare at him. “I like fruity shit.”
“Fruity doesn’t mean refined,” he informs me. “You two need to learn to drink better brands and less sugar.”
Sighing, I finish reading the contract. We’re never going to agree on the subject. He thinks spending a thousand dollars on a bottle of single malt is better than drinking margaritas. We’ll have to agree to disagree.
“Listen, you shouldn’t be signing this,” I suggest. “Persy and I will amend her book deal and—”
“It’s going to take me years to recover her investment,” he interrupts me. “These guys don’t need the money right away. She does.”
He is right. Our sister lent him her savings. The amount included the advance she received from Blackst
one and Morgan Press, the publishing company that bought the rights to her next book. A book she doesn’t want to write because it’s off-brand and forcing her to divulge more about her life on social media than she usually does. I’m trying to fix her current contract so she can change the title and the subject. But if we can’t come to an agreement, she’ll have to give the money back so I can terminate the contract.
I sigh.
“Thirty-five percent is a lot,” I say, changing the argument as I continue reading through the partnership proposal. “We need to negotiate the terms before you sign anything. I understand that they are practically financing the entire operation, but…”
I pull out a calculator and run some numbers. “You’re not earning any money for at least five years. Where are you supposed to live and what are you going to eat?”
“Funny that you mention this,” he says, giving me his boyish grin. “You have an extra room in your house.”
“No!” I answer with determination.
I have two guest rooms. I love my siblings, but I can only stand living with them for so long. Just earlier this year, Persy stayed with me for almost six months and even when we had fun, we both concur that we needed our own place. We’re too old to have roommates. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to live with Eros for five years—or until he gets his shit together. I’m going to become his maid, parent, and… No, thank you.
“Nyx, at least let me explain my plan to you.” His pleading voice doesn’t change my mind. In fact, I cross my arms. “I sell my place—”
“You have two mortgages on that house. You owe more than you’ll get for it. You have to be sensible about your finances,” I remind him, shaking my head. “Why do I always have to sound like the oldest one in this family?”
He shrugs. “You always liked to boss me around while we were growing up. Show that you were responsible. It’s your thing. Just like Persy likes to analyze people. I watch over you three.”
He’s right. That’s been our dynamic since we were kids. It might have to do with the way we were raised. Our baby sister, Calliope, doesn’t fit in this dynamic, and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like us so much.
“No, we’re going to go back to these Chadwick brothers and we’re going to cut you a deal that will be beneficial for everyone,” I state. “Do we have an understanding?”
He salutes me. “You’re the boss.”
There’s this idea that the person we become is partly defined by the order in which we come into our family. It’s part of the sibling hierarchy. The oldest becomes the teacher to the rest of the siblings. Whoever established that theory didn’t know the Brassard siblings. We are four, one brother and three sisters. Eros is the oldest. I’m the second out of four. Then comes my sister, Persy, and Calliope is the baby.
In theory, Eros should be our teacher. The one who takes care of us. Most days I’m the one who is rescuing everyone and saving them from not fucking up their lives. Maybe it has to do with my parents’ philosophy. They believe that making mistakes is what forges our character. I keep telling them that there are mistakes, and then there are times when people should avoid failing. Letting others commit errors so you can learn isn’t always smart. What if it’s something that can bankrupt us, get us thrown in jail, or kill us?
Earlier today it was my brother. Thankfully, I was able to change the original partnership he was about to sign, and he got to save his home.
More like, I won’t be having him as a roommate, and we won’t end up killing each other because he’s a slob.
Now, I’m on my way to talk some sense into Calliope. Most days I’m thankful for Persy. She’s not only the most down to earth of my siblings, but she’s also my best friend. Maybe the whole theory about birth order has some truth to it. She’s only ten months younger than me. We have a connection like not many do. We understand each other, and sometimes we even guess how the other one is feeling.
As I’m about to ring the doorbell to the apartment complex where Callie lives, there’s a person coming out who lets me in and even smiles. I blink a couple of times and shrug. What happened to security? I climb the stairs to the fourth story and knock on the door.
A male voice answers, “In a minute.”
Not sure if the guy understands how long a minute is because only two seconds later the door opens. It’s a tallish guy. By tallish I mean under six feet, lanky, and in a dire need of a trim. No, I don’t have anything against guys who have long hair. There are some that look hotter with a mane. This guy though, he needs…a shower, a brush, and clean clothes.
“We didn’t order take out,” he says.
“I’m here to see Calliope, my sister,” I inform him.
“Cal?” he asks and studies me. “You kind of look like her, but uptight.”
“Is she here?”
“No, she moved out a week ago,” he states.
“Who are you?”
“Ron,” he answers. “I’m subleasing this place.”
Subleasing the place? I’m blown away by those three words. She’s not allowed to do that. Did he even sign a contract? Because I don’t remember signing one where I agreed to let this man live in this apartment. I take a deep breath and ask calmly, “Did she leave you a forwarding address?”
He shakes his head. “No. You should talk to your sister, not me.”
I hate to agree with him, but there’s nothing I can say to him that’ll make this right. Other than kicking him out of the place because technically he is living here without my consent.
“Thank you, I appreciate your time,” I say and leave.
On my way to the car, I dial Callie’s number. She sends me to voicemail, so I try again, again, and again until she finally answers, “What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
“Far away from you,” she states.
Why do you always have to answer like a petulant fifteen-year-old? I want to protest, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “I take it you made the decision to move out of the state. Did it occur to you to tell us about it?”
“As I said the last time we spoke, I’m done with your meddling,” she comments. “In fact, I’m done with you. Lose my number.”
“Well then, when will you be sending me the money I loaned you to buy your car and the deposit to rent the apartment where this Ron character lives?” I question. “Furthermore, this apartment is under my name too, and I didn’t sign any agreement to sublease the place to him. My name is on that leasing contract.”
“If I were Persy, you would’ve helped me move. Instead, you’re demanding money that I don’t have,” she argues. “It’s a verbal contract which should be binding. He is good for it. Don’t worry about what can happen to your precious name.”
I sigh. “That argument is so old it doesn’t have the same effect. Calliope, our parents are going to be heartbroken and worried if you don’t tell them where you are. At least give them a courtesy call.”
“They are the reason I’m running away from this family. Have you realized that they aren’t normal? They embarrass us. While growing up, I could never bring friends to the house because I never knew what they would do,” she explains. “Please, don’t tell me you aren’t ashamed of them. How many times have you brought a boyfriend to the house? None, because you know it’s horrifying to introduce them to Octavio and Edna Brassard. And then, there’s Persephone. She’s a famous sexologist.”
Our parents are unique. Yes, they can be a handful and we have to control their narrative sometimes. However, I’ll take those two above many other parents who are abusive, neglectful, or plain. Persy is an influencer, a therapist, and yes, she markets herself as a sexologist. There’s nothing wrong with her career. I’d be concerned if she was a criminal.
“We never had normal,” she continues, and I laugh. “Stop laughing at me!”
I clear my throat and say, “I laugh because you’re not making sense. You sound like a petulant child having a tantrum because you’re not getti
ng your way.”
“You never take me seriously, Nyx. You think you are the smartest one of us. Just because you have a fancy office, a nice house, and a luxury car, you think that you are better than us. You are not!”
“Callie, stop while you’re ahead,” I warn her.
“You’re upset because I’m telling you the truth. And the truth always hurts. You’re pathetic, Nyx. Your life is fucking sad. Just boring and plain like you.”
She’s not wrong about being boring or having a life. I’m nothing like Persy or her. One thing I hate about my baby sister is that when she strikes, she hits where it hurts the most.
“Listen, Callie, we love you even when you’re rude to us because you are our little sister. I stopped liking you a long time ago. You became this entitled woman that I can’t stand, and you know what…I’m done being the one trying to keep this family together,” I say. “Not only that, I’m done with you. If you want to play martyr and tell the world that you escaped your crazy family, that’s up to you. Just don’t come back groveling for money.”
I hang up and fire up a text to Persy.
Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2) Page 1