by Amelia Wilde
My heart pounds.
My father will have heard the news by now, if he didn’t see it being broadcast live. He and his staff don’t miss much.
So I’m not surprised when his secretary stares up at me from her seat, then inclines her head toward the door.
I take both Quinn’s hands in mine outside the entrance to his office and kiss her gently.
“I’ll wait out here,” she says softly, then gives me an encouraging smile.
As I go into my father’s office, I hear his secretary already remembering her manners. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Quinn’s reply is cut off as I close the door behind me.
It takes an enormous effort to look up from my shoes and into my father’s eyes.
When I do, I get the shock of a lifetime.
He doesn’t look angry.
In fact, he’s smiling at me, with tears in his eyes.
“Dad?” I say, my voice choked.
He gets up from behind his desk, crosses the space between us, and enfolds me in his arms.
“Eli,” he says softly, and I hug him back. “You’ve returned.”
“What?” I say, pulling back so I can look into his eyes. “You knew it was me all along?”
He laughs, stepping back to put a little breathing room between us. “I was there the moment you were born, Elijah. Did you think I would forget which one of my sons was which?”
I am overwhelmed with confusion. “But why did you—”
“Let this little game of yours go on so long?” He shakes his head. “I never expected it to last a decade, for one. There were many times I thought I might—I thought I might say something, give myself away, but every time, I held back.”
“Why?”
He puts a hand to his mouth and thinks for a moment before he answers. “Losing a child was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice low and soft. “I can’t imagine what it was like to lose an identical twin. Your grief must have been—it must have been overpowering.
“At first I thought it was something you’d snap out of, but as the months went by and became years, it just seemed like something you needed to do.”
My mouth drops open. The lengths my father has gone to to indulge me in this are beyond what anyone could expect from any father.
“But…you had him buried under my name.”
“I did,” he says, and I realize this might very well be the first time he’s ever admitted it out loud to anyone. “I did do that. Seems pretty fucked up, doesn’t it?” My father grins despite the tears in his eyes. “I guess I’m…what, an accomplice?”
“You didn’t have to do that.” The lump in my throat threatens to turn to tears.
“I did. Because one of my sons was still alive, and for whatever reason, he needed to be his brother.”
I turn away, covering my eyes with my hands. “You always…you always liked him better.”
“What can I say? I was an asshole when you were growing up. But I didn’t like him better. I just wanted you to enjoy the things we enjoyed. It was a bad way to go about it.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agree heartily, and we both laugh. “Jesus Christ. I am in such deep shit.”
“No doubt about that, son,” my dad says, and despite everything, I feel relieved.
“I can’t believe you let me get away with that for a decade.”
My father is silent for a moment, and then he looks me straight in the eye. “As ridiculous as it sounds…it was a way for me to have both of my sons. At least for a while.”
I look toward the ceiling and consider the pair of us, each devastated by the loss of my brother, each reacting in what might have been the most idiotic way possible. “Damn, do we need therapy.”
We laugh at that for a long time.
My gut is aching with laughter, but when it finally subsides, I have one more thing to say to my father.
“Dad, remember when we had that conversation about finding a good woman?”
“Yes?” His brow wrinkles.
“Well, she didn’t exactly keep me out of the gossip sites. I fucked that one up.”
“I’d say. That press conference is going to be pretty hard to spin.”
I wave that comment away. We can talk about all that later, but even so, I’m not worried about Pierce Industries. If anything, the extra coverage will boost its stock price.
“The important thing is…” My voice trails off. I’m relishing this moment so much that I’m already nostalgic for it.
“Spit it out, Eli.”
I’ve never smiled so brightly as in that moment.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Epilogue
Quinn, three months later
The podium is already in place outside of the Pierce Industries building, and Eli—it’s still hard for me to think of him as Eli and not Christian, even now—can hardly stand still. He’s about to announce that he’s been cleared of any wrongdoing by the federal government, which—wouldn’t you know it—takes identity theft pretty seriously, and that all the charges against him have been dropped.
“It feels good to be a free man,” he says, watching the press gather outside.
I roll my eyes. “You’ve always been a free man. It’s not like they made you wait in prison.”
“They could have made me wait in prison.”
“There’s no amount of bail that Pierce Industries wouldn’t have paid, and we both know it.”
Eli shrugs, still grinning at me.
An elevator dings its arrival across the lobby, and I turn to see his father, Harlan Pierce, step out.
That whole story—what a doozy.
The moment they stepped out of his office together three months ago, it was clear that any past misunderstandings had been cleared up—or at least forgiven for the time being.
“Quinn Campbell!” said Harlan Pierce jovially, and I shook his hand with an air of joyful confusion.
“You don’t seem very surprised by this news, sir,” I couldn’t help saying.
He winked at me. “It’s hard to surprise a man who’s known you your entire life.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
From then on, Christian and his father were genuinely close. Once a month, they’ve been attending therapy sessions together. I can’t imagine having to do that with my own father, who has thoroughly enjoyed his life in a small town in Northern Michigan. The last time we argued was when I was in high school and going through a rebellious phase.
“Hello, lovebirds,” he calls now, striding across the lobby. He can’t wait to stand next to his son while he makes this announcement. It’s not likely to be the last of the press coverage about the strange story of Elijah and Christian Pierce, but at least it’s a relatively happy ending.
“Mr. Pierce,” I say, greeting him with a smile.
“Is this one all ready to go?” he asks me, putting an arm around Eli’s shoulders.
Eli shrugs him off good-naturedly. “I’m standing right here,” he jokes.
“He’s as ready as he’ll ever be,” I say, then take Eli’s arm and turn him toward me. I give him a once-over, making sure his outfit is in pristine condition, then straighten his tie.
I glance out the door. The press looks to be fully assembled, and it’s supposed to rain later this afternoon—they won’t stay long if we don’t give them something to pay attention to. “Let’s go entertain our guests.”
“As you wish,” Eli says, raising my hand to his lips and kissing it theatrically.
“My goodness,” I say, teasing. “Keep yourself under control. We are at work.”
Not long after that insanely hot kiss on camera brought down the wrath of HRM’s management upon my head, I got to build a press release announcing my new position at Pierce Industries as Vice President of Reputation Management. I forced Harlan to put me through the full interview process, even though he created the position for me.
I don
’t feel guilty about any of it. I’m damn good at my job. I can’t help that I’m in love with the boss’s son, and that Pierce Industries can use a top-of-the-line public relations professional on their staff.
I lead the way out onto the sidewalk. The fall air is pleasant—not too hot, not too cold—and the cloud cover is easy on the eyes.
I step up to the podium with confidence and wait for the chatter among the reporters to stop.
“Thanks for being here, everybody,” I say, scanning the crowd. “Harlan and Elijah Pierce of Pierce Industries.”
Then I step back, ceding the podium.
The two men step up in front of it together, Harlan slightly to one side, and Eli takes a folded piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it against the polished mahogany surface of the podium. “Hello, everyone,” he says with a half smile that has me wet in an instant.
A shiver of pleasure goes through me when I think of what we’re going to do in bed later…
Snap out of it, Quinn. You’re on camera!
Eli is halfway through his statement. “—pleased to announce that I have been cleared of all wrongdoing. I thank you all for your support during this difficult time, and I look forward to sharing the future success of Pierce Industries with you.”
Unsurprisingly, there are no questions. Almost to a one, everyone gathered in front of the podium waits to see if Eli is going to announce anything groundbreaking. This is not nearly as exciting as his last press conference.
Harlan and Eli exchange a look, and then Harlan steps off to the side.
I’m instantly on edge. This isn’t the plan. Harlan was supposed to make a short statement in support of his son, and then take a few questions. What is he doing?
Eli pulls another piece of paper from his breast pocket, unfolds it, scans it for a moment, and tucks it into the podium. Then he turns and gestures for me to come forward.
I arrive at the podium just as he steps to the opposed side, in plain view of the reporters.
“Eli—what—”
“Quinn Campbell,” he says, his voice clear as a bell. The three anchors who have assembled each thrust their microphones another inch closer to us, desperate to pick up every word. “There’s so much I want to say to you that I can’t possibly fit it all in during this press conference.”
What is he doing?
“I loved you almost from the moment I saw you,” he continues, and it dawns on me.
This is a proposal.
Oh, my god.
My heart soars.
“I never want to spend another day without you by my side.” Eli gets down on one knee and pulls a small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a diamond set in a ring of sapphires. It’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen, and perfectly unconventional. “Will you give me the chance to spend the rest of my life telling you, every day, how much I love you?”
A happy tear spills out of the corner of my eye, and with a trembling hand I wipe it away.
“There’s nothing else I’d rather do,” I choke out.
“Is that a yes?” says Eli, a cheeky smile on his face.
“Yes!” I cry, and then throw myself into his arms. Laughing, he stands up, lifting us both, and kisses me long and hard, right on the mouth, for all the world to see.
Intrigued by the world of Christian Pierce? There’s more where that came from. Dirty Rich, a standalone from the same universe featuring the characters Jax and Cate (who also appear at the Purple Swan!), is available now on Amazon. Get your copy here!
Interested in more stories from Amelia Wilde? Grow your collection today with a complimentary copy of Hate Loving You, a bad boy romance featuring Dex and Bee from Dirty Rich. Tell Amelia where to send your copy here: http://tiny.cc/awilderomance.
Looking for just a little extra? An extended epilogue to Dirty Rogue will be released in September 2016, exclusively for my subscribers!
Now…keep reading to enjoy your complimentary copy of Dirty Royal, a hot bad boy royal romance with one or two familiar characters!
Dirty Royal
A Bad Boy Royal Romance
by Amelia Wilde
Chapter 1
Jessica
The Purple Swan is on fire tonight.
Not literally, of course. But there’s clearly a heated kind of energy zipping through the ultra-exclusive dining and dancing club in the heart of New York City tonight. It’s evident everywhere—radiating from the couples swaying on the dance floor, emanating from the groups of twenty-somethings laughing raucously at the white linen–covered tables, and even projecting through the waiters who move double-time across the room in their spotless Swan uniforms, black jackets with crisp white shirts, trays filled with glasses of sparkling drinks and plates of Michelin-star quality food so meticulously arranged it’s almost a shame to eat it.
That fire embodies everyone, the drinks and the food and the wild purposeless celebration of the night filling my friends to the brim. Their laughter is loud as they order delicacy after delicacy and send away piles of empty plates, their drinks never running dry.
It touches me, too.
Just not like it touches them.
It’s like my friends are out splashing and having fun playing in the ocean while I’m left standing on the shore, the waves lapping at my toes but never coming up over my ankles.
My friends love me—I seldom if ever doubt that—but there’s a barrier existing between us that I’ll never quite cross, no matter how often I get invited to the Purple Swan, no matter how often I borrow a new couture dress from my roommate, no matter how loudly I laugh along with them to their stories and jokes.
Everyone sitting at the table around me tonight, including my date—a nervous guy named Rick who has a pleasant enough face but absolutely no charisma—belongs to the top one percent of the wealthiest people in the country, if not the world.
Except me. I just know how to play the part.
“Jessica!” calls Christian Pierce from across the table, cheeks flushed pink and eyes glistening from the numerous drinks he’s downed over the course of the evening. This version of him is, if you can believe it, mellower than when I first met him. “Where are you, sweet thing?”
I can’t help but laugh. Christian can get away with saying that shit, but it’s only because we were part of a close group of friends at boarding school. That makes me sound upper crust, but don’t let it fool you. A scholarship put me through school. Christian’s father could have bankrolled the whole place.
“In my head, Chris. I can’t help it.”
“Tell me,” says Rick, leaning hesitantly toward me from his seat. “What entertains you, Jessica?”
It’s a bizarre question, and as I glance back over at Rick, giving him as much of a smile as I can muster, I feel so fatigued from spending time with him that I want to lay my head down on the table right there in front of everyone.
“I have my hobbies,” I say coyly before turning back to my friends.
Rick can’t let it go.
“Like what?”
The rest of the people sitting around the table are talking about a new Star Trek movie that’s due out this summer, and even that’s preferable to enduring stilted first-date conversation with a man I’m never going to go out with again.
I knew that within the first five minutes. Now I’m regretting being so polite.
“Um…” I’ve had several drinks myself, and suddenly I can’t think of a single thing I like to do in my spare time. I’m usually up for going out with friends after spending another draining day in the office, but what the hell do I like to do? Maybe this city, this club scene, is sapping me of my adventurous spirit.
Maybe I’ve just had too much to drink.
I see movement in the corner of my eye, and then Jax Hunter—the richest man in the city—is coming toward the table. My heart flutters. Christian set me up with him once. He would have been quite the conquest in bed if it hadn’t been for the faraway look he
had in his eyes that night.
The object of his affections, another outsider named Catherine Schaffer, is on his arm. She’s wearing a short pink dress that attracts the lustful eye of every guy in the room and more than a few envious glances from the women.
“Hey, guys!” she says brightly, as Jax and Christian pound each other on the back in greeting. The two of them together is a study in contrasts. Jax is tall, dark, and handsome times a thousand, the sex appeal just radiating off of him, whereas Christian is his perfect foil, blond, blue-eyed and so All-American. But only one of them is on the market now. There are two other women at the table Catherine seems to know fairly well, and I take the opportunity to fall in with their chatter as Jax and Christian whisper to each other a few steps away from the table.
I understand what Jax sees in Cate.
She lights up the goddamned room.
They’re only there for a few minutes before Jax breaks away from Christian, coming back to the table where he slips his arms snuggly around Cate’s waist. “We’d join you, but it’s date night,” he says, cobalt eyes glowing.
Cate blushes and gives a little wave, the two of them disappearing quickly into the crowd.
I have to get out of here.
Rick doesn’t seem to notice that I’ve mentally checked out.
“Kayaking,” he says.
“What?” I say, my forehead wrinkling. What the hell is this strange little man talking about now?
“That’s one of my hobbies.”
“Oh,” I say lamely, picking up my drink and taking another sip. “Yeah, kayaking is good.”
“Don’t be so shy, Jess!” Christian’s voice booms across the table. “Tell the man about your hobbies. I know you have some.”
“I know you have one, Chris,” I shoot back, smiling at him. “It’s something you can do all by yourself, once your date goes home…”