Bad Romance

by Jen McLaughlin

  Not freaking likely.

  He might be experienced enough to put the past behind him, but I sure as hell wasn’t. I had had one actual sexual encounter—one—in my entire life, and it was with him. There was no way I could just shove his memory to the back of my mind behind the others, because there were no other memories. It was just him. And me. Naked.

  That was it.

  I closed my eyes, trying to forget about our fight, or how disappointed he seemed when I defended marrying Derek. But the thing was, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew if I ended up marrying him, that it was never going to be some fairy-tale marriage, no matter how it looked from the outside.

  But it didn’t matter.

  If I didn’t find a way that could save Daddy’s company, and Derek’s, without the marriage, then I would do it. I might not want to, but I would. It was my happiness versus thousands of other people’s happiness—and there was no way I could win that battle.

  If I didn’t marry Derek because I didn’t want to be tied down to someone I didn’t love, our fathers’ companies would fail. Companies that employed thousands of people. Those thousands of people had families. Kids. Parents. Spouses. All those people would be left without jobs and money and food on their tables because…what?

  Because I couldn’t suck it up and marry a man who was a dick on a good day?

  All because I wanted another orgasm?

  I wasn’t that selfish, and I refused to let our employees down. If push came to shove, and there was no other way to save the companies, then I would do it. I’d bite the bullet and marry him. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one. That was that. Derek and I had grown up together; he’d been my escort to my sweet sixteen and our senior prom. Our parents had naturally hoped we’d unite the families at some vague point in the future, but when the companies started to flounder, vagueness became certainty.

  Did it mean I was happy with that decision? That I didn’t wish that there was a way I could take control of my fate and still save the company, without having to marry Derek? Of course. That was what I was trying to do, while pretending to be a good little girl who would do as told. When I’d started to get restless as the future, and my eventual marriage, loomed ever closer, I’d sneakily visited a lawyer two towns over.

  Under client confidentiality, she broke the news, pity in her eyes, that the only other option was to convince my father and the board to file an amendment to the articles. To change the contract, and offer shares up for sale to the public. I did learn that the articles didn’t specifically spell out what the familial relationship had to be, so long as the prenup said he was entitled to keep the shares if I was the one who filed for divorce.

  It did. I made sure of that.

  And if I married him, I would be divorcing him as soon as possible.

  None of the menfolk thought much of it because who’d think Lilly Hastings had the spine to disrupt a carefully laid out plan? I knew our fathers were hoping that Derek and I would have a little Derek Thornton the fourth, but they were doomed to disappointment. Having a baby was the furthest thing from my mind. Derek was a “Preppy Prick,” but if he managed to convince me to sleep with him and I got pregnant, I wouldn’t just yank his kid away. Luckily for me, Derek would likely be equally as apathetic about having sex with me. As Jackson pointed out, I didn’t have a cock.

  As for me, well…

  Derek wasn’t Jackson.

  Groaning, I yanked the covers back and scowled at the clock. The red numbers told me I should have gotten up for work ten minutes ago, so I climbed out of bed and hurried to get ready. Operating on no sleep didn’t exactly motivate me to give a crap about how I looked, so I grabbed a pair of leggings and a loose-fitting gray shirt with a sequined tiger face on my way into the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I turned on the shower and tossed the oversize shirt I’d worn last night to the side. It wasn’t till I spit and rinsed that I saw it.

  I had blood smeared on my thighs. And it wasn’t that time.

  It was evidence that I did something just because it made me happy.

  Swallowing hard, I gaped at the mirror. Other than the blood, I didn’t look any different. I didn’t have a sign on my forehead announcing I was no longer a virgin. I didn’t even feel different. But yet, at the same time, I did. I felt older. More knowledgeable. More…

  Trapped.

  Jackson was right. My immediate future was loveless, celibate, and bleak. Derek and I could barely have a civil conversation; how could we ever have a meaningful relationship? He would never sweep me off my feet and make me come so hard I saw stars. He would never make me scream his name and curl my toes into the mattress.

  Before Derek, I’d only dated suitable young men who had my parents’ approval. They would never dream of sullying the Hastings daughter, because I was the good girl they’d marry, not the kind they’d sow their wild oats with. So I stayed a virgin, contenting myself with masturbating, late at night when there was never the possibility of being overheard. I didn’t know there could be more than that. If I’d known what it felt like to have a man driving himself deep into me, the delicious helplessness of having that same man hold me down with effortless strength, well, maybe I would have been a bad girl sooner.

  Probably not.

  Because it wouldn’t have been Jackson.

  Shaking off my dour thoughts, I stepped into the shower and washed as quickly as possible. I was a little bit sore, and it smarted between my legs when I moved too fast, but otherwise, I was fine. Well, fine, minus the fact that I soon had to face the stepbrother I’d screwed last night. The one who refused to help me cheat on my fiancé, despite repeatedly referring to him as “Preppy Prick.”

  I wish I could hate him for that.

  After dressing, I threw my hair in a sloppy bun, grabbed my purse, and headed down the stairs. As soon as I hit the foyer, Jackson came out of the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand, a to-go cup in another. He wore a black T-shirt that hugged him in all the right places and a pair of dark blue jeans. He looked unfairly sexy.

  Then again, if I ever thought he didn’t look sexy, I would clearly be on my deathbed.

  We stared at one another, and the way he looked at me, as if he was remembering me naked, made me shift uncomfortably, experiencing a different kind of ache between my legs now. “I made you coffee,” he said, his tone even and cautious.

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching out for it. Our fingers brushed, and my stomach tightened at the innocent caress. His jaw flexed, so I knew he felt it, too—the sexual tension that had been there between us since the first night in the bar. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  He ducked his head. “I know, but I wanted to. Despite my actions last night, I want us to be friends, Lilly. I don’t want what happened between us to be something we can’t move on from. We did it, it was great, but now it’s over. And we go back to being friends…family…whatever you want to call it.”

  I held on to the coffee tightly, allowing it to warm my hands, because his words doused whatever heat I was feeling. Not because they were cold or anything—it was actually very kind of him. But because I didn’t want to be his friend. I wanted more. I wanted him. And I couldn’t have him. “I’d like that, too. Very much.”

  “Good.” He smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Your car’s outside. I went and got it last night.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t even thought about that. “Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.” He rocked back on his feet. “If you come home in time tonight, I’m going to make pizza for dinner. You don’t want to miss it.”

  God, he was good at this.

  He acted as if he’d already slotted me away in his “hit it, quit it” files. I couldn’t see any lingering desire or passion. It was as if he’d thrown a mental switch and no longer thought of me like that. It hurt more than it should have.

  But I straightened my spine and forced a cool smile to my lips. If he could move on and act as i
f last night didn’t mean a thing to him, so could I. “Yeah, sure. That sounds wonderful. I love pizza.”

  “I know. I remember.” We stared at one another, the silence hovering awkwardly. After a little bit, he shifted his feet. “Did you need something else?”

  “N-no.” I opened the door. “I’ll see you late—oh, crap.”

  Derek stood outside my door, keys in hand. He never, ever came to my house, so why now? Why this morning, after Jackson and I…crap.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “Hey, I have a meeting at your dad’s office today about the merger, and thought I would stop by and introduce myself to your—what the hell?” Derek broke off, finally seeing Jackson, who stood behind me. His colorful facial rainbow had faded to pastels, and he clearly hadn’t been too drunk to remember whose fist painted it. “What’s he doing here?”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Jackson, who glowered at Derek. As soon as he saw me looking, though, he smoothed his face into a mask of nothing before he stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Jackson Worthington, Lilly’s stepbrother.”

  “I’m Derek, her fiancé.”

  I didn’t correct him, because as far as he knew, I was playing along. Willing to marry him. “Derek, Jackson. Jackson, Derek.”

  Derek didn’t take his hand. “You punched me. That was you in the club.”

  “Yeah, I guess we got off on the wrong foot.” Jackson smiled and withdrew his hand, still holding his coffee in a tight grip with the other. His mug had an army logo on it. “I saw someone go up to Lilly, and she seemed upset, so I intervened. I’m her stepbrother, after all. I’m sure you understand my…protectiveness, right?”

  Derek flushed, gave Jackson a once-over, and took his hand. “I wasn’t drunk. I was just feeling a little…frisky. So I sought out my beautiful fiancée.” He dropped Jackson’s hand and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “Surely you understand that.”

  Jackson stared at the spot where Derek held me, right above my hip. “Of course. And as long as the ‘frisky’ feeling is mutual, I would never interfere.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” Derek snapped.

  Jackson didn’t say anything. Just raised a brow.

  Derek stared back at him. He didn’t even look away when he asked me, “Would you like a ride to work? We have to go to your parents’ house after you’re done, so it seemed like a good idea to carpool.”

  Damn it. Dinner. I forgot all about that. “Uh, yeah, sure. I would like a ride.”

  “Guess I’ll be eating pizza alone,” Jackson drawled. He shoved his free hand into his pocket and clucked his tongue. “More for me.”

  “You should come,” I said quickly. “To dinner. Tell them you’re back.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Derek opened the door. “Pity. I would have loved seeing you there.”

  “I’m sure you would have,” Jackson said, his tone way too cheerful. “How long, exactly, have you two known each other?”

  “Since childhood,” Derek said. He turned back to Jackson, his smile tight. “Since before her father decided to marry your mother. Long before you came into the picture.”

  “Ah,” Jackson said. He seemed anything but impressed. “Funny, though, I don’t remember hearing much about you back then.”

  “You know how it is when you’re a kid.” Derek glanced at me. “You don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

  Jackson cocked his head. “What does that mean, exactly? I’d love to know.”

  “Jackson,” I said.

  “What? It’s a good question.” He stepped closer. “The first time I saw him, he was manhandling you. Is that how he normally treats the ‘finer things’ in his life?”

  “I don’t care whether you like me or not,” Derek said, curling his upper lip. “We might be future in-laws, but don’t mistake that to mean your opinion carries any weight with me. All I care about, Jackson, is that you mind your own business. And if you want me to keep your little secret, you’ll do so.”

  “She’s my stepsister.” Jackson leaned in. “And we live together. That’ll be hard to do, if I even wanted to. And I don’t.”

  Derek stepped in front of me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, my God, stop it, guys,” I snapped. “It doesn’t mean anything. All it means is he’s protective of me because I’m his…his…”

  “Family,” Jackson supplied, staring at me way too intently for comfort.

  “Right. Family.” But family doesn’t do what we did last night, do they, Jackson? “Fighting with him will accomplish nothing.”

  “Nothing at all,” Jackson agreed, way too cheerily. He was enjoying this, the bastard. “If I want to hate you, I’ll hate you. I earned that right when I fought for the freedom for you to wear those god-awful khakis every damn day.”

  I choked on a laugh but tried to cover it up with a cough. I couldn’t help it. Because Derek did wear them every single day, and it was ridiculous. Did he sleep in them, too? Like he always had to maintain appearances or something.

  Derek turned red and caught my hand. “Let’s go.” I nearly violently yanked away because he never held my hand. Like, ever. As a matter of fact, he avoided touching me, aside from a light hand on my back when we had to attend functions together. Clearly, he viewed Jackson as a threat, which, I mean, duh. Jackson was hot, tattooed, confident, and single. What man wouldn’t be intimidated by all that? “We’re going to be late.”

  Over my shoulder, I glanced at Jackson one last time. He raised a brow, as if daring me to say no. As if he expected me to come to my senses and run off screaming.

  “See you later, Jackson.”

  “Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels, frowning. “Later.”

  I closed the door behind us, and the second we were alone, Derek let me go. The farce was over. “Why didn’t you tell me the guy who punched me was your stepbrother?”

  “I didn’t know if you would remember him,” I said, not caring if he was angry. As Jackson pointed out, nothing I did would make him like me. I didn’t have the right equipment, so to speak. “So I figured we could cross that bridge when we came to it. If we came to it.”

  “Well, we’re there.” He walked to his car door and yanked it open. I opened mine, shaking my head. His father had never taught him manners. Living with him was going to be a blast. “And I’m pissed you never said anything to me. Your stepbrother violently attacked me, and you let me walk into a dangerous situation, with no warning.”

  I closed my door and buckled up. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologize. It was what I always did. But I didn’t want to. I had nothing to apologize for. I didn’t owe him anything. “Oh, please. Maybe next time you should just keep your hands to yourself unless I give you explicit permission otherwise. That should help you avoid his anger again.”

  “Or maybe you should remind him that knowing one another when you were kids does not mean his opinion takes precedence over mine,” Derek snapped, starting the car. “We’re engaged. He has no business jumping in. Not even if I want to grope your ass in public—which I clearly didn’t do, but that’s not the point. Your ass is mine, for all intents and purposes.”

  I stiffened. Derek hadn’t been like this when we were younger. He’d always been a spoiled brat, but never this callous. Something had changed in him. Or maybe I was the one who had changed. Maybe I didn’t have the tolerance for his bullshit anymore. “No. It’s not. I am not, and never will be, your property.”

  He rested his elbows on the steering wheel, rubbing his face with his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s…we have a plan, right? There are things we have to do in order to make sure our lives don’t go to hell. To save thousands of jobs. We both know it’s the right thing to do. A sacrifice for others. He’s a deviation from the plan, and it just threw me off. And what if you decided to back out? Then all those people would be out of jobs. I can’t live with that. Can you?”

  And tha
t, right there, was the crux of it all. Sure, I could walk away. Sure, I could choose myself over those people. But I’d have to live with that decision for the rest of my life. “No.” I crossed my arms. “Not if I could stop it.”

  “Same here. So we both know what we need to do.” He rested a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I’ve been a bit of an asshole lately. Mom’s been meeting with Nancy, putting the finishing touches on our wedding. We’ll be married before we know it, and all this stress will be gone.”

  Nancy, my stepmother, was taking time out of her busy schedule hosting charity events and various social committees to “help” plan the wedding. The only thing I’d have to do for the wedding is say “I do.” I stared out the window. Because the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw up. “Yeah, well, that just means the companies will be saved sooner rather than later. It doesn’t excuse your behavior toward Jackson.”

  “I know.” He took his hand back and pulled out onto the road. “I just hate guys like that, who go off and do whatever they want, and don’t live up to their responsibilities. I’m the one making the sacrifices for our families, and he has the nerve to judge me? But for you, I’ll try to get along with him.”

  I swallowed, not answering. Derek wasn’t wrong, exactly. If Jackson hadn’t enlisted and had fallen in line with Daddy’s plans, I probably wouldn’t be sitting in this car. But Derek didn’t really know Jackson, didn’t know the kind of man he really was.

  Not like I did.

  Chapter 13

  Jackson

  Later that night, I sat in a leather booth with plush backing, nursing a scotch, and I couldn’t shake the bad mood that hung over my head like a storm cloud. It had been there all day long, following me wherever I went. After I watched Lilly walk away with Preppy Prick, an overall annoyance with the world had crept over me, and I couldn’t shake it off.