by Gemma Weir
Two security guards scurry across the large space, their hands moving to the guns holstered at their waists. Ignoring them, Smoke and I cross the room and head for the reception desk. Every eye in the place is turned in our direction and when I rest my elbows on the desk, the woman behind the counter visibly stiffens.
“How may I help you?” She asks, her voice shaky.
Glancing over my shoulder at the security guards now only a single pace behind us, I smirk at them before turning back to the receptionist. “We’re here to see Miss Carrington in the Alaskan Suite. Could you call up and tell her that Mr. Acton is here?”
The receptionist looks from me to the security guards and then back to me again. “Is she expecting you?”
“She’s expecting me, sweetheart.”
Her eyes rake over my tattoos and piercings and I swear I see a gleam of appreciation. She might be a little frightened by my appearance, but she’s turned on as well. My lips spread into a half grin and I wink at her. She flushes bright red and quickly looks away, lifting the phone in front of her and pressing a series of buttons.
“Hello, Miss Carrington? Yes, it’s Melissa down in reception. We have two gentlemen here to see you.” Her eyes lift to me again, before quickly dropping. “Yes, a Mr. Acton and one other.” She listens to whatever Taylor is saying for a moment and then looks back up at me, a smile etched on her lips. “Of course, yes. Thank you, Miss Carrington.”
I watch as she carefully places the phone back into the cradle.
“Okay, Sir. Miss Carrington has asked for me to send you up. Daniel will escort you,” she says, her tone significantly more congenial now as she gestures to a bellboy standing to the side of the elevator.
The guy scurries over to the desk, his eyes widening comically as he takes in me and Smoke.
“Daniel, could you escort these two gentlemen to the Alaskan Suite please?”
The guy nods and holds an arm out in front of him, gesturing for us to walk ahead of him.
Glancing over my shoulder at Smoke, I tip my head toward the bank of elevators and slowly walk away from the desk. Each of my footsteps seems loud in the still hushed foyer and eyes follow us as we move. A quick look over my shoulder shows the two security guards have remained at the desk, suspicion still clear on their faces.
“This way please, gentlemen,” the bellboy says, pressing the button to call the elevator and motioning for us to enter when the doors immediately slide open. He follows us as we all step inside and then swipes a key card against a sensor, pushing the button for the floor containing the suites.
“This is some kind of fancy,” Smoke says quietly.
“Rich folk like to make sure everyone knows how rich they are,” I reply acerbically. The luxurious surroundings have only heightened my anxiety at being here. I don’t want to have this conversation with Taylor. It’s not my responsibility to explain to her our fucked-up connection, but the other alternative is to call my dad, or her mom, and I want to do that even less than I want to tell the woman I thought was my soulmate that she’s actually my sister.
The elevator stops at a floor and a tiny ‘ding’ heralds our arrival just as the doors glide open. The bellboy steps out first and motions for us to head down the corridor. “This is the Alaskan Suite,” he says, gesturing to a set of double doors to our right.
“Thanks,” I say sliding a bill into his hand and then turning to dismiss him. With a nod, he silently walks away, and I’m left standing like an idiot staring at a door.
“You gonna knock?” Smoke asks a few moments later.
“I’m trying to figure a way around it,” I say. The night before, I’d told Smoke everything about the day I found out Taylor was my father’s daughter. We drank far too much whiskey, drowning my sorrows and discussing my novel worthy tale of woe.
“No way around it, brother,” he says slapping a hand against my shoulder. “Find some fucking balls and knock on the door. Only way to get rid of her, if that’s what you want to do, is to get in there, tell her, and then hope she leaves.”
I nod, without looking at him. He’s right; if I tell her the truth, she’ll leave. I doubt she’ll believe me, but it’ll be enough to send her running back to our hometown or wherever the fuck she lives now. As long as she’s away from me, I don’t care. Lifting my fist, I pull in a deep breath and then knock.
The door flies open and a sobbing Taylor throws herself into my arms. Instinctually, I catch her; one arm wrapping around her and holding her to me. Too late I realize what I’ve done and push her away from me, holding her literally at arm’s length.
“She’s… she’s gone,” she says between sobs.
I glance over my shoulder to find Smoke smirking at me. I raise an eyebrow at him, silently asking him what the hell I should do, but he just shrugs, so I carefully walk her backwards until there’s enough room for us all to enter the room. Smoke closes the door behind us and once I hear the reassuring click that means privacy, I release my grip on her arms and take a large step away from her.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask.
Taylor looks up at me, her eyes glassy and wet with tears. “She’s gone.”
“Who’s gone?”
“Rosie.”
A tingle runs up my spine and a vision of the captivating redhead springs into my mind. Rosie. Somehow her name doesn’t quite fit her. Then I remember the color her cheeks had turned when we’d spoken, the color of a spring rosebud. It takes me a minute to realize I’ve stopped listening to Taylor, and that she is looking at me expectantly. “What?” I say.
“Ro-Ro and I had a fight. She was awful to me. She told me I was a shitty friend and then she left.” Taylor says, a childlike pout forming on her lips.
“When did she leave?” Smoke asks.
Taylor focuses all of her attention on him, and a single tear rolls down her cheek. “Last night,” she says, her voice all lost little girl and completely at odds with the sex kitten looks she is throwing at both me and Smoke.
“Taylor, what are you doing here?” I ask bluntly, unable to keep it in any longer despite her tears.
“This is my hotel room” she replies, all signs of her early tears forgotten.
“I mean in Texas, at my club. Why are you here?”
A seductive smile curves across her lips and she prowls toward me, all feline grace and ease. “I missed you,” she purrs.
“It’s been ten years,” I take a step back, forcing coldness into my tone and trying to put some distance between us.
“We were best friends; we were everything to each other,” she coos, her eyes becoming hooded.
A long familiar ache blooms to life in my gut. She’s my sister. Any lust I felt for her dissolved the moment I saw her again. I’ve had ten years to resolve my feelings for her, but instead I’ve ignored them, buried them and pretended they don’t exist. I’ve put this woman on so high a pedestal, crowned her the love of my life cruelly ripped away by circumstance, when instead I should have been accepting her new role in my life and embracing it. My teenage self craved her and I’ve kept that craving alive with dreams and fantasies, but in real life when she’s standing in front of me, those feelings are gone. The love I’ve harbored for her for so long is still there, but I hadn’t realized until now that it’s more of a wistful childish folly.
The realization I’ve wasted ten years of my life pining for her rocks me to my very core and I sway on my feet. Taylor is still speaking but I’m not listening. I know what I need to do, and I open my mouth ready to tell her, to explain what I found out all those years ago and apologize for not telling her the truth, just as her lips land against mine.
This kiss is so surprising that I shove her from me, harder than I should and she stumbles back, falling into Smoke’s body.
“Park, what the fuck?” she screeches.
“Taylor, you’re my sister,” I shout, my voice almost a roar.
She sinks back, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening. Then I w
atch as she visibly regroups, straightening her spine and flipping her hair over her shoulder. A crashing realization implodes within me.
She already knew.
“You know, don’t you?” I ask.
She scoffs, her nose lifting in the air almost regally. “There’s nothing to know; it’s not true.”
Age 18
“She’s my sister?” I say, the rasp in my voice the only tell that I’m on the verge of a complete meltdown.
“No,” my father says at the same time that Diane says, “Yes.”
I look from my father to Taylor’s mom and take in the expressions on their faces. My father looks angry, a hateful sneer etched across his features. Diane is equally hard, a granite edge steeling her attractive youthful face.
Taylor’s mom steps toward me, a piece of paper gripped in her hand. “It’s the truth. Here’s the most recent DNA results.”
“The most recent?” I ask, taking the paper she’s holding out.
“This is bullshit, Diane, don’t involve my son in this.” My father growls. “Parker, it’s not true, she just wants money.”
My eyes move to my father. He’s stepped from behind his desk, his anger clear in his tense shoulders and lined brow.
“They have money, Dad. Why would she want yours?” I ask, my voice much calmer than I feel.
“Look at the results, Park. I have another five sheets just like that.” Diane says calmly.
My fingers fumble with the folded piece of paper in my hands. I open it and there in black and white are the results of a DNA test. I read it aloud, needing to hear the words that my eyes are seeing. “Alleged Father David Allen Alton. Mother Diane Louise Carrington. Child Taylor Marie Carrington, probability of paternity 99.99997% that David Allen Alton is the biological father of the aforementioned child Taylor Marie Carrington.”
My eyes swing to my father’s and I see it in his eyes—he knows it’s the truth. He knows that Taylor is his biological daughter, my half-sister. “How long have you known?” I ask him.
He sighs and turns his face away from me, so I look at Diane. “How long?”
“He’s always known. I told him the day I found out I was pregnant and there have been twelve DNA tests since then. All of them show he’s her father, but he refuses to acknowledge her.”
I turn to my father again. “Does mom know?”
He shakes his head, a single movement that sends my entire world crashing down around me.
Present Day
“What the fuck, Taylor? You know I’m your brother and you just tried to kiss me.” I shout, taking another step back, needing to not be near her.
“You’re not my brother,” she shrieks.
“We have the same dad. You’re my sister, or half-sister or whatever, but either way we’re related.”
“No, that’s a lie. It’s a lie,” she says, shaking her head from side to side emphatically.
I look at Smoke and he lifts his shoulders, obviously unsure what to do now too.
“Taylor,” Smoke says.
She turns toward his voice.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?”
Taylors face morphs into a serene smile. “Of course. Maybe we could all go out for a drink or some brunch? Park and I have lots of catching up to do.”
“Taylor, we need to talk. When did you find out?” I ask, taking a step closer to her, wishing I could pull her in for a hug, but in the same breath not wanting to touch her.
“Park, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now I’ve come all the way from LA to Texas to find you. My best friend has abandoned me, and my old best friend is trying to tell me that somehow we’re related. This seems like a mimosa type of conversation.”
I narrow my eyes at her. It might be ten years since I last saw her, but she hasn’t changed that much, and I can still see the lies in her words, even after all this time. “You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”
Her back stiffens and she scowls.
“We were gonna hook up that night. You were all over me that day and you already knew. Were you going to let me have sex with you knowing it was incest?”
Her eyes flash with anger, but she doesn’t speak.
“Answer me, Taylor. What the fuck is wrong with you? Yesterday you kissed me; you tried to kiss me today, and you know. You know that we’re siblings, you’ve always known, and you were still going to let it happen.”
“Because it’s not true,” she screams. “My mom first told me that David was my father when I was ten. TEN! She sat me down and said my dad wasn’t my real dad and that we were going to a hospital. That wasn’t the first time they did a DNA test, I’d been for tests like that once a year since I was a little kid; it was just the first time she told me what the test was for. She took me to your house and told him that I was his daughter and he kicked us out. He told my mom it was a lie and that the DNA results were wrong. Twelve DNA tests I had to take before I was eighteen and every single time, he refused to believe the results. He’s not my father and you’re not my brother.”
“Taylor, I’ve seen the results. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“You are not my brother,” she spits.
“Yes, I am!” Bile rises up my throat. Was she actually going to have sex with me knowing who we really were to each other?
Turning, I look at Smoke, and he looks as freaked out as I feel. “Maybe we should go?” he says.
I nod and immediately turn to leave, taking one last look at Taylor before I go. “You’re my sister, Taylor. I was so in love with you. I had no idea. I found out when I overheard your mom and our dad talking about the DNA results. That’s why I left that day. I couldn’t stand the idea of being near you and having to think about you platonically. But that’s all we should ever have been to each other, Tay, siblings. This isn’t our fault; it’s theirs. But you can’t just bury your head in the sand and ignore the truth. I’ve done that for the last ten years and it hasn’t done me any favors. Talk to your mom, maybe even talk to our dad if you think it will help. We were friends, best friends, maybe even closer than siblings, and that’s all it should ever be between us. It took you coming to find me for me to really see that. I know this is fucked up, and it all got dumped on you when you were just a kid, but now we both need to deal with our shit and get on with our lives.”
Real tears pool in her eyes and as she blinks two of them fall. “I’m sorry.”
Dropping my head, I close my eyes for a second then look back up at her. “It is what it is. Speak to your mom. It’s time to grow the fuck up.” Then I turn and walk away, opening the door and exiting without saying another word.
“Are you sure?” I say incredulously to the girl behind the counter.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re fully booked, but I can direct you to our sister hotel in Austin.” She says, her saccharin sweet smile so false I want to flick her in the nose just to see it falter.
“I can’t go to Austin. Surely there are other hotels? We’re not that far from Houston.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s company policy that I can only recommend hotels within our chain.” The girl says, her smile slipping slightly to reveal a chagrined look.
Sighing deeply, I turn away from the desk and reach for my purse. My place is immediately filled with another guest and I glance around the hotel lobby, unsure what I’m going to do now. After mine and Taylor’s argument last night, I’d managed to book a room in our hotel for an exorbitant amount of money, but tonight they’re fully booked and I have no idea what I’m going to do.
Reaching into my purse, I fumble around searching for my cellphone, but just as my hand wraps around it I collide head first into a huge, hard object. With my head down, I can’t process exactly what I walked into, but I know, I just know, that I’m about to fall on my ass. Time seems to slow as I flail, desperately throwing my arms out wide trying to slow myself or find something to grab hold of to stop my inevitable fall.
It feels like hours as I wait to hit the gr
ound. My eyes go wide and I know I must look ridiculous. Unfortunately, it’s impossible for a redhead to slide under the radar. Even as short as I am, I’m still impossible to miss with my bright carrot-colored hair.
I wait for the crash and the slice of pain, but it never comes. Instead, a strong arm wraps behind me and instead of falling to the floor, I’m hauled back upright. My fingers find purchase in soft fabric and as I blow my hair out of my eyes, I see it’s a t-shirt. Tracking upwards, I have to tip my head back to see who my savior is and then I laugh. Of course it would be him. Because there, looking back at me with twinkling eyes, is Park.
“Falling for me already, Rosebud?” he drawls, his Irish accent so rich and sexy.
“Errr, thanks for the save,” I reply lamely. “Are you here to see Taylor?”
He nods, “Yeah, we’ve just been up there.”
“We?”
He glances over his shoulder and I spot the hot bartender from last night stood a few feet away from us. At Park’s nod, the guy walks over; a broad, charming smile stretched across his lips.
“Well, hey there, sweetheart. We never got a chance to get acquainted last night. I’m Smoke.”
“Smoke?” I say, a hint of laughter in my voice.
Smoke leans toward me. “It sounds cooler than Justin,” he says with a wink.
Another laugh escapes me. “Rosie,” I say offering my hand.
Taking my hand, he turns it, lifting it to his lips and kissing the top magnanimously. I laugh again, enjoying his playful banter.
“You going somewhere?” Park asks, his eyes fixed on my luggage that’s in a heap on the floor, courtesy of my almost fall.
“Oh, err,” I stutter, looking down at my bags and then back to him. “Yeah, Taylor and I had a falling out and I’m moving to another hotel until I can get a flight back to LA.”
“Which hotel?” Smoke asks, leaning down and picking up my luggage.
“Err, well, I’m not sure. The receptionist would only recommend a hotel in Austin, so I plan to just jump in a cab and see if they can suggest somewhere.”