Stripping a Steele

by Elizabeth Knox

  “I think you forget how good of a relationship I have with Lorenzo. If I tell Lorenzo anything he believes me. We aren’t just business associates, we’re friends.” I see how Jordan uses the term friends loosely. Jordan is most definitely not friends with Lorenzo DiGiovanni. He only uses Lorenzo as a way to keep a good relationship with the Italians. Logan and Jordan are alike in this sense, doing whatever it takes to keep people happy – business wise and on a personal level. Me, I couldn’t give two fucks about who likes me. I doubt I ever will. At the end of the day, it’s a good thing that I’m not in charge of the family business. I’d burn everything that my father built into the ground. He’d be rolling in his grave for sure.

  “I don’t like the idea, but I know that it’s necessary, so I agree. We should take whatever information we can acquire and keep it for our own advantage. All of us know how things are constantly changing between the different mobs, cartels, and mafias. If my intuition is right, this is big. Which means we need to know.”

  The rest of our morning was filled with legitimate business. Logan has recently asked for Jordan and my opinions on the newer businesses he’s been investing in, stating how we all needed to make executive decisions and not just himself, how this was a family business, after all. I couldn’t disagree with him, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t. Logan was trying to do right by his own morals, to legitimize what he could of Steele Enterprises. Honestly, I’m proud of everything that he’s accomplished, but he forgets one thing. Once you’re in this life, you’re in it. The only way out is by climbing the ladder or taking a bullet to the brain. I’d be damned if I got a bullet to the brain. I’d make the ladder my bitch, even if my brother couldn’t. I’d keep us all safe, even if it killed me.

  ***

  Brooklyn and Logan welcomed Emmett into their lives just two short weeks ago. Each day passed faster than the next, and there are times when I forget he’s even here. Those moments pass quickly when I hear his blood curdling cries from Logan’s office. He told Brooklyn to bring Emmett in to see him as much as possible, that he wanted to spend as much time with him as he could. I could understand exactly why this was important to my brother. Our own father did spend time with us, but it was always on his terms. He never went to my soccer, Jordan’s football, or even Logan’s baseball games. No, Mr. Steele was always so focused on making business decisions, furthering the length of not only our name but our pockets too. To be honest, I don’t even know if he made it to my birth.

  I’m walking down the corridor of Steele Enterprises that houses the executive offices. From the corner of my eye, I see Brooklyn come darting out of Logan’s office, shutting the door quickly behind her. The girl looks like a hot mess, and I’ve never said that about Brook. “What’s wrong, babycakes? You look like you just robbed a bank peeling outta Lo’s office that quick,” I chuckle, but Brooklyn doesn’t find it funny whatsoever. She slumps, puffs out her bottom lip and next come the water works.

  “I…oh, my god,” Brooklyn mutters, hiccups passing through her lips. “It’s Mase. I don’t know what’s going on, but he was rushed to the ER, and I couldn’t take Emmett with me. I had to bring him here. I…I’m scared Chrissy.” Mase, none other than Mason – the toughest bastard in all of Atlanta. In short, Mason is like Brooklyn’s surrogate grandfather. Back in the day her mother and Mason were good friends, Brook, and her brother, Sebastian grew up around with Mason being a constant factor in their life. “I gotta go.”

  As if she’s somehow gained superhuman strength, she wizzes past me. I reach out and grab her arm, clenching to where she can’t get out of my grip.

  “The hell you are driving in the emotional state you’re in Brook. I’ll drive, c’mon.”

  If you ask me, the last year has flown by. I remember the first time I met Brooklyn, how I insisted on calling her a bitch and Logan almost ripping my tongue out for being a snarky bastard. Back then I never understood why he was so protective, but now that I have Selena – I understand it. Brooklyn and I walk to my car where we get in and drive the ten minutes to the hospital.

  I stick to Brooklyn like glue, weaving in and out of the hospital corridors. Before she was pregnant she had a pretty big target on her back, and I know that she thinks the danger is gone since we figured out who was trying to harm her, but she just can’t grasp the idea that the danger will always be here. Fuck, she’s going to be a Steele soon, and even if she wasn’t, she’d still have that giant X plastered across her back because she’s been with Logan, and she’s given birth to his child. In our dark twisted world, there are no rules.

  The big guns play dirty, and luckily, we know how to as well. There is no dark code saying that family members are off limits. People will hurt you where you’re weakest and knowing Logan – Brook and Emmett are his weakness. Ever since Logan rescued Brooklyn from her kidnapping, if that’s what we even want to call it, he’s had guards posted to Brooklyn and now even Emmett around the clock.

  I know that my situation with Selena is completely different, Brooklyn is going to be my sister very soon for fuck’s sake, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have the unyielding desire to protect Selena and the kids. I haven’t even met them yet, but it doesn’t matter. They are important to Selena which means that they are important to me as well. I’ve had at least two guards posted to Selena’s detail since that night at Russo’s, no matter what she does – I always have my eyes on her, and I always will.

  It may be odd, but there is this feeling inside me like I need to grab Brooklyn’s hand, so I do. I grab my soon to be sister’s hand and hold onto it for dear life, still unsure on why exactly I’m doing this. Have you ever had a feeling like something bad is about to happen? That’s the kind of feeling I have right about now. It’s that gut feeling – preparing you for something awful.

  Brook walks up to the nurses’ station and waits until a short brunette, maybe just a few inches shorter than she puts the phone back onto the receiver. “Can I help you with something?” she asks with snarkiness laced through her voice.

  “Yes, I’m here to see Mason…” Brook grabs her phone from her purse, swiping up “He’s in room 311.”

  The woman types away in her computer, nodding. “Yes, I see. Who are you to him?”

  Brooklyn, poor, sweet little Brooklyn was about to tell this woman her life story. Instead of allowing her to do that, I interjected. “I’m his grandson, and this is my fiancé. My sister Ashley should be here, she’s probably already in the room with him. Didn’t Ashley text you with the details, sweetheart?” I took to Brooklyn, whose glare is burning right through me. I’ve had my fair share of drinks at Mason’s which means that I know enough about his and Brooklyn’s relationship and have met the infamous Ashley Mason. She is one terrifying bitch.

  “Yep.”

  “I can only let the family in, your fiancé is going to have to wait over there.” She points to a seating area off to the side of the nurses’ station. There are three couches and a bunch of chairs, in between some of the chairs are little tables that house magazines and tissue boxes.

  “My Brooklyn has been family since the very first moment I met her. If anyone needs to see him, it’s her. She’s been worried sick since my sister sent us the group text telling us he was rushed here. Please, this once can you let us both through? We just found out she was pregnant, and I’m hoping that the good news will help my grandfather,” I lie and coax my way until this nasty little nurse is right where I want her. “Please, just this once?”

  “Fine.” She grits her teeth, glancing quickly over to Brooklyn. “You’re lucky this one is so damn charming. If he wasn’t…”

  “Oh, I know. I’m so lucky,” Brooklyn huffs.

  “You go around the corner and follow the hall, he should be the eleventh room on the left.” I listen to her instructions and lead Brooklyn in that very direction.

  “I cannot believe you just did that. People know who we are, Christian, you saying shit like that is going to give the pa
parazzi a reason to talk shit! I understand what you were doing, but next time do me a favor and don’t say anything. I have a son now. Logan and I have a son now. Neither of us wants this kind of mustered up bullshit to be plastered all over the press, and it will be because you don’t shut your damn mouth!” She snaps, ripping her hand from my own and darting down the hallway until she must reach Mase’s room. I watch her, how the anger and determination slowly fall from her face and is replaced with an unfiltered sense of shock. That’s the only preparation I have for what is to come.

  Shit, this can’t be good.

  Chapter 13

  Christian

  I was right to have the feeling that I did. There was nothing that could have prepared me for the situation that was about to unfold. I’m the type of man that tries to look at everything in a positive light, even if it’s the hardest thing to do at that exact moment. Over the past few months I’ve become very close with Mason, he was one of the few people who knew about my Cinderella and my fierce determination in finding her.

  Brooklyn, though, Brooklyn has known this man her entire life. He was there for her through everything, through the loss of her mother, her cocaine addiction, and even there when her biological father betrayed her in the worst way possible. In a way, I think that Mason was partially involved with setting Brook and Logan up. It could be bullshit, but I do know that Mason is a fan of both of them. Logan frequents Mason’s bar, and Brook is there all the time, as well. It’s a wonder that Logan and Brooklyn didn’t naturally meet there. Instead, my dear brother, true to the Steele name, went after what he wanted and claimed her.

  “I cannot believe you had the audacity to keep this diagnosis to yourself for this long. You stubborn old fool!” Brooklyn snaps at Mase. I shut the door to Mason’s hospital room as Brooklyn seethes anger. Ashley is in the corner of the room, her legs drawn up onto the chair holding them so tight like her very life depends on it. She’s in shock, but I suppose we’re all in shock. “You…I can’t believe you did this! How could you do this to us? To Ashley? To me? How could you just,” Brooklyn struggles in continuing to berate Mase as the tears slide down her cheeks. I can understand her anger. One of the key figures in her life just told her that he has terminal cancer and that he won’t make it much longer. She’s no doubt in shock, although she’s handling it a lot differently than Mason’s own granddaughter, Ashley, is.

  Mason coughs loudly, sitting up in his hospital bed, so loud that he lurches forward. Brooklyn immediately grabs the cup of water by his bed and brings the straw to his lips, allowing him to take a sip. “Are you okay?” She asks in a barely audible whisper. I don’t think Mason heard her, but he nods anyway.

  “I didn’t tell you because of your Mum, girl. Don't you think that I knew how bad you struggled when your mum was dying? It was tearing you apart. Didn’t want you to worry about my old Irish arse, especially when you have enough to worry about now,” he mutters, glancing over to Ashley, who still sits with her legs drawn to her chest. “I’m not sorry that I didn’t tell either of you. You both would have been spending the last few months waiting on me hand and foot. I’d be damned if I let that happen!”

  “We should have been doing that. Don’t you get it?” Brooklyn hisses at him, “You are the most stubborn man on this planet. Dammit, Mase! You….good god….I could have…”

  “You could have what, girl? Spent more time with me? The time you needed to be spending with Logan and preparing for that ham you’ve got now? No. You needed to be with your family.”

  “You are my family!”

  “Bullshit!” Mason snaps, glaring at her, “I am not your family. The only family I have in this room is Ashley. You don’t get to tell me how I get to die, no one does. Got it?”

  Brooklyn’s mouth snaps shut. If the old bastard didn’t have cancer I’d sock him in the face right now. He crossed a line, and he knows it. “Yeah. I got it. I’m not important to you at all. In fact, you didn’t tell me about your cancer because you’re so selfish! I could’ve helped. I could’ve…” Brook runs past me, yanking the door to the hospital room open and slams it shut behind her so hard that I can see the framing shake.

  “You are such a dick,” I tell him. He looks over at me, the rays of sunshine glistening over his slowly decrepit body.

  “I sure as hell am, boy, but I’d rather her hate me than pity me. This was my decision, and if I had any say she still wouldn’t know. Her mother’s diagnosis tore her apart, and I’d be damned if mine did too. That girl has gone through too much, it’s about time she didn’t have to anymore.”

  “I know you love her, just as much as you love Ashley, but that, right there? That wasn’t right. You know she’s upset because she loves you. Because you are like a grandfather to her. You are as much family to her as Sebastian, Logan, Jordan, and me. We are her family. We might not share her blood, but she is our family, and you just hurt her beyond belief. You deserved to be punched in the face, but you’re dying, so I’ll let it slide. Excuse me while I go clean up your mess,” I growl, angered by how he’s just treated her.

  I find Brooklyn next to a vending machine in the hallway by the waiting area. She’s munching on a Crunch bar as I approach. “Ah. Chocolate, the go to cure all, yeah?”

  “Yep. Chocolate makes everything better, even finding out that your adoptive grandfather has cancer and maybe a month to live,” she sobs, munching down on a piece of chocolatey deliciousness. I look at her, and sadness fills me completely. This isn’t just a random person to her. Mason was in her life from the time she was a toddler, almost like a fill in father. He’s done so much for her, I’d say that a grandfather more accurately describes their relationship…I know that this is breaking her heart. “I can’t believe he hid this from us,” she murmurs quietly.

  “The old ass did it to protect you and Ashley. I can see that. He didn’t want either of you to know that he was sick, or that he was suffering.”

  “That doesn’t give him an excuse, or make it right,” she tells me firmly, and I agree.

  “No, it doesn’t, and I’m not saying that it does. I’m telling you that he was trying to protect you both, save you both some hurt and heartache that he didn’t want you to have.” What Mason did wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have kept this secret from Ashley or Brooklyn, but he did. I know why he did it, but like Brook said, it doesn’t make it right or excuse his actions.

  “What did it matter, though? We still found out, and we’re still barely holding our shit together. Did you see Ash? She hasn’t been that quiet since she’s been alive! She is losing it, Christian. Her grandfather is everything to her, dammit, he is everything to me too.” Brooklyn’s sobs turn into soft cries. I follow my instincts and wrap my arms around my soon-to-be-sister, holding her close against my chest. There’s nothing that I can say that will make her feel better right now, I can only be here, giving her physical support, because at the end of the day we’re going to have the same outcome. Mason is going to die.

  Shit.

  ***

  Selena

  Tonight. Wear the dress I bought for you. I’ll have a car pick you up at 8. Be prompt.

  I stare at my phone, a little shocked that Christian wants to have our date so soon. To be honest, I didn’t think it would be for another week or two at least. I do have to give it to him, he is persistent, and that persistence makes me smile. I love that about him. I’m a woman who handles shit, who doesn’t get handled, but Christian – he can handle me. Every time I’m a bitch, he throws something just as snarky back to me.

  I’ve met my match, and that scares the living hell out of me.

  For the next two hours, I busy myself with household chores, finally tackling the massive load of laundry that I’ve been purposefully avoiding over the last two days. It’s Luke’s chore and he should be doing it, I only ask that he does his own laundry the towels and sometimes tosses Ellie’s stuff in too. I wouldn’t dare ask him to touch my stuff, oh god – I can’t imagine my little b
rother washing my thongs. Nope. No! Not going to happen. After the laundry, there’s the dishwasher, and clearing out everything that’s been sitting in the fridge for the last week. I’m a stickler when it comes to not wasting food, I hate it so much, being wasteful, that is. But getting these kids to eat leftovers is not an easy task. You might as well have said that it was cooked on the sidewalk. They think it’s germy and disgusting.

  My cell phone starts ringing, and it’s the call that I’ve been waiting on for what seems to be like weeks. I’m not a girl who hassles to get answers or things done for that matter, but I really didn’t think my bank would take this long getting back to me about the money that was wired into my account. I just wanted something, some sort of trace to figure out exactly who it was, where it came from. Just something! I didn’t know what I did to deserve this cash, or maybe even earn it, but I needed to be prepared.

  Shit.

  What if Matteo Varca wired me this money? What if this was some fucked up way of trying to pay for what he did to me? Oh, my god, as if walls are closing in around me, I can’t take another breath in. Everything suddenly becomes too much, but I know one thing, and one thing only. If I don’t answer that phone, I will have no idea who put that money in my account and I refuse to live in fear.

  “Hello,” I answer, listening as the woman on the other side of the phone greets me in her poised customer service tone. I have to give it to her, she is good at her job. She’s already made me forget that it’s been days since I last spoke with a representative from my bank.

  At the words she speaks, I almost drop my phone. There were thousands of scenarios that went through my mind, endless possibilities from unknown life insurance money that my dad may have purchased before he died, to my rapist sending me money in hopes to keep my mouth shut. Never did I think I would hear what I just did. “Can you repeat that again, please?” I ask the woman on the other end of the phone, sure that I’d need to hear it one more time before I truly believed it.