The Wrong Brother (a perfect for you novel Book 1)

by Amanda Siegrist

  The Wrong Brother

  A Perfect For You Novel

  Amanda Siegrist

  Copyright © 2020 Amanda Siegrist

  All Rights Reserved.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or re-distributed to another person unless consent is given by this author. If you wish to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. It may not be re-produced in any format for your own rights. If you did not purchase this book, please return to the retailer to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this book are a product of the author’s imagination. Places, events, and locations mentioned are created to either help inspire the story, or are real and used in a fictitious manner.

  Cover Designer: Amanda Siegrist

  Photos Provided by: Conrado/Shutterstock.com

  Edited by: Mitzi Carroll and Marisa Nichols

  ISBN: 978-1-7325656-5-4

  Also by Amanda Siegrist

  A happy ending is all I need.

  Standalone Novel

  The Danger with Love

  McCord Family Novel

  Protecting You

  Trust in Love

  Deserving You

  Always Kind of Love

  Holiday Romance Novel

  Merry Me

  Mistletoe Magic

  Christmas Wish

  Snowed in Love

  Snowflakes and Shots

  Lucky Town Novel

  Escaping Memories

  Dangerous Memories

  Stolen Memories

  Consequences Novel

  Dark Consequences

  One Taste Novel

  One Taste of You

  One Taste of Love

  One Taste of Crazy

  One Taste of Sin

  One Taste of Redemption

  Mona & Mason

  The Paranormal Chronicles

  Conquering Fear Novel

  Co-written with Jane Blythe

  Drowning in You

  Out of the Darkness

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Thank you

  Also by Amanda Siegrist

  About the Author

  1

  She brushed a hand across her forehead, trying to hold in her patience. “Run that by me again. You want me to do what?”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you listening, Gabs? You never listen to me.”

  “I always listen to you, just not when you’re talking nonsense.” Gabby stood up from the couch, swiping her empty wine glass from the coffee table. She needed a refill, especially after what Mia asked her.

  “I think he’s cheating on me.” Mia pouted as she followed Gabby to the kitchen.

  “You haven’t been dating that long. I haven’t even met him.” Gabby stopped midway as she reached for the wine bottle. “I take that back. I rarely meet a guy you’re dating because you go through them so fast. There’s always something wrong with them. He snores. He spits too much. He uses the bathroom for too long. He likes to read instead of having sex. He’s a momma’s boy. Should I keep going?”

  Mia grabbed a strand of hair and started to twirl it. “If you’re saying those are silly reasons to break up with a man, they’re not. Snoring is annoying. I could never get any sleep. That baseball player I dated did spit too much. And what possesses a man to sit in the bathroom for more than thirty minutes? I have needs, you know.”

  “Please, I don’t want to hear about the reading part. Reading is good. I like to read.”

  “You like reading when you’re about to have sex?” Mia planted a hand on her hip, her lips pursed, her eyebrows raised in defiance as she waited for an answer.

  “I don’t have sex as often as I’d like. That reminds me, I should put that on my to-do list.” Gabby grabbed the pen and pad near her phone. “Have some sex. Soon.” She made sure to underline the word soon several times.

  She pushed the paper toward Mia. “I even underlined ‘soon.’ Then I’ll pull out a book and read before I do the deed. You know, if you read an erotica book together, it would add to the mood. Did you ever think about that?”

  “You’re incorrigible. I get nowhere with you. Absolutely nowhere.” Mia rolled her eyes once again.

  Gabby pulled the cork from the wine bottle, pouring herself a glass to the rim. Sometimes dealing with Mia involved much-needed consumption of alcohol. “Why do you think he’s cheating? And if you think he’s cheating, dump his ass. Move on. You do it so well.”

  “Can you, for once in your life, not be so honest?” Then Mia glared at the jar filled with quarters on the counter. “You owe a quarter for swearing.”

  Damn it, she did. “I’ll add it later. You knew what you were getting into when you started up a friendship with me. Remember the day we met, and I told you that green shirt looked horrible with that beautiful red hair you have? Never wear green. You make me think of Christmas.” Gabby took a sip of wine.

  “But you love Christmas,” Mia pointed out. “I like bringing the Christmas spirit right to your door.”

  “You’re right, I love Christmas. But not when I look at you and see a brightly lit Christmas tree.”

  Mia laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “I did look pretty bad that day. But not all green looks bad on me these days. I now have a great fashion sense. You, on the other hand, need help sometimes.”

  “That’s why we balance each other out. That’s why we’re best friends.”

  “And that’s why I need you to apply for my boyfriend’s vacant secretary position and see if he’s cheating on me.”

  Gabby took a long sip of wine, letting the warm liquid soothe her. “I have a job, you know. A real job.”

  Mia snapped her fingers with vigor, pointing at Gabby. “You also have vacation time. Didn’t you say you had so much time built up that you might start losing it if you don’t use it? I’m helping you with that little problem.”

  “Mia, come on, talk to him. See if he’s cheating on you. You’re obviously getting a feeling that he’s doing something wrong if you’re asking me to do this. It’s a little extreme for me to go ‘undercover,’” Gabby said, using quotations with her fingers on the word undercover, “to see if your boyfriend is cheating on you.”

  “Since when are cheaters honest? Like he’s going to say, ‘Yeah, Mia baby, I’m not cheating on you.’ He’d never admit it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, does he call you baby? That’s so…so…disgusting.”

  “It’s sweet. It rolls off his tongue like butter melting on a piece of warm bread. I love it when he calls me that.”

  “If you say so. Look, Mia, I can’t take a week off work to go incognito at his work. There’s no way in hell I could lie on the application about prior employment. It’s not in me to lie like that.”

  “You don’t have to lie. You were a secretary before.” Mia smirked. “That’s another quarter.”

  Gabby raised her eyebrows in disbelief, almost spitting out the small gulp she had consumed. Then she rolled her eyes. “Stop making me swear. I’m blaming you. And I was a secretary when I was nineteen. I’m t
wenty-nine now. We’re a little too old to be playing these games. Talk to him.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want to see him lie to my face.”

  “If you think he’s cheating, I repeat—dump. His. Ass.”

  “You’re almost up to a dollar.”

  “Mia!” Gabby knew she was trying to irritate her.

  “I need solid proof before I confront him.” Mia produced another pouty face that was hard to resist. “I need you to do this. His secretary is on maternity leave. It’s only a temp position, so it’s not like you’d be lying that much when you leave after a week. He’s been talking about how all the applicants have been horrible. He’ll hire you on the spot. I know it. Like you said, one week. That’s all I’m asking. I need to know. Then I can dump the lying, cheating, scumbag for sleeping around on me.”

  Gabby gulped the rest of her drink, wiping her hand across her lips as if she gained a mustache from the sweet red wine. “How do I let you talk me into shit like this?” She groaned. “Yes, I know, I now owe a dollar.”

  Mia screamed in delight, grabbing Gabby around the waist. “You’re the best bestie ever.”

  “Fine, bestie. One week. No more.”

  “Yes! I knew I could count on you. His name is Champ Holloway.”

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

  Gabby sat on a nice plush black couch, bouncing her leg out of tune to the mellow music playing overhead. Something you’d hear at a symphony. Not that she ever would attend that sort of concert. She’d fall asleep from boredom. She’d take a rock concert over a symphony any day.

  A new song, just as light and melodious as the last, started to play. It was annoying music. If she did get the job—a big if—she sure in the hell didn’t want to listen to this crap all week. She’d go out of her ever-lovin’ mind. Give her a crazy upbeat song, and she’d be good to go. It’d get her in the mood to work and do the best damn job she could.

  She still didn’t know why she caved into Mia’s pleading. This was insane. This problem could be rectified by simply talking to the man.

  Mia and men. Problem? Of course. There was always a problem when it came to Mia and men. She didn’t know how to talk to them, how to have a normal, “let’s have a nice relationship” sort of talk. Although Gabby shouldn’t judge. She didn’t know how to have that talk either. Her relationships were fleeting, at best. Nonexistent, at worst.

  When it came to the man department, she and Mia swung out every time.

  She met Mia in the hallway of their elementary school. Third grade rearing its ugly head—in her eyes, anyway. She was new to the school. Not the best way to make friends by insulting her choice of dress, but Mia hadn’t seemed to care. She shyly smiled, pushed up her glasses that were too big for her face, and said, “Do you want to sit by me at lunch?” And as they say, the rest is history. Twenty years later, Mia’s suckering her into going undercover to see if her boyfriend was cheating on her.

  Well, hoping to go undercover. There was no guarantee she would get the job. She’d have to use her wily skills of negotiation. She could do this. She would do this. Mia was depending on her to find the truth. That was her job. Finding out the truth. When it came to Mia, if she asked, she always came through for her. That’s just the kind of friend she was.

  “Ms. Stileano, this way, please. Mr. Holloway will see you now,” an older lady with black as night hair—Gabby knew for sure she colored it recently to cover the gray, it was so bold—said with a nasally voice.

  “It’s Stileano. Like Still-ano. Not Style-ano.” Gabby stood up with a bright smile. She hated it when people said her last name wrong. She always corrected them. Most people screwed it up, making her have to correct a lot of people. She always said it with a smile. It usually didn’t matter. People always took offense. It was her last name for goodness sake. She should be the one taking offense. Not the other way around.

  Of course, in good order like it normally happened, the older woman took offense and pursed her lips in a thin line. “This way. Mr. Holloway is a busy man. He doesn’t have a lot of time.”

  “Of course.”

  They walked down a long hallway where they came to a set of double doors. The older woman pulled one open, walked through, and didn’t bother to hold the door open for her. She had to rush ahead a few steps to grab the door before it slammed in her face.

  The fast movement made her stumble in her high heels. The damn things. She hated wearing high heels. Yet, she managed to stay upright and not fall flat on her ass. The last thing she needed to do was embarrass herself or sprain an ankle.

  She told herself to let it go, to not let the woman get to her. If this didn’t matter so much to Mia, she would’ve marched right back out of this place. Judgmental bitch. What did she have to judge about her?

  Was her outfit not professional enough? Did her pants have wrinkles from sitting so long? She swore she waited longer than she should’ve. She arrived ten minutes early because she hated being late for anything. Or maybe Miss I-dye-my-hair-terrible was having a bad day.

  She would never work at a place where she’d have to deal with someone like this. Sure, she dealt with some unruly, uncaring coworkers at her other job, but she loved that job. She knew she wouldn’t love being a secretary. This would test her patience. She hated being a secretary at nineteen, and she didn’t think her opinion had changed at twenty-nine.

  Think of Mia. This is all for Mia.

  A desk sat to the left, clutter-free, except for a small computer on the corner and a container full of pens and pencils right next to it. Another plush black couch sat kitty-corner to the desk. A small table filled with several magazines and a nice orchid plant sat next to the couch. A few paintings adorned the walls that captivated her attention. She wasn’t into art, but she could appreciate fine art when she saw it. Most were of buildings at unique angles. One really caught her attention. Splashes of color, like someone took a brush, whipping an array of colors onto the canvas. It spoke to her. It felt like her life sometimes. Different colors, different directions. The splashes indicating the many derails life held for her.

  God, when did she get so deep?

  She smiled brightly when she saw the older woman standing by another set of double doors, her hands on her hips and the impatience clear on her face.

  “As I said, Mr. Holloway is a busy man. Are you finished looking around?”

  “By all means. I’ve been ready.” Gabby gestured at the door. If anyone should be pissed, it should be her. She was early and still had to wait over twenty minutes after her appointed time.

  The woman knocked on the door. A loud booming voice from inside yelled, “Come in.”

  The woman pulled the door open and stepped inside. “Mr. Holloway, Ms. Stileano to see you.”

  “Send her in.”

  The old lady smirked at Gabby as she walked by. She wanted to slap her silly for saying her last name wrong again. She knew she did it on purpose this time. Instead, she kept the smile on her face and thought of Mia. This was all for Mia.

  “Ms. Stileano, have a seat,” Mr. Holloway said from behind a huge oak desk, waving a hand at the chair in front of it. He didn’t even look up from the stack of papers lying on his desk.

  Gabby tried to keep the awe out of her eyes, and her jaw from hanging open. The view behind him was spectacular. New York City was a city worth sighing over any day. But sometimes, a view as magnificent as this needed extra time to take in and breathe in deeply. They weren’t even on the top floor, but she could see the Statue of Liberty in all its glory, the sparkling water shining with elegance all around it. What a view. She would do anything to have a view like this to appreciate every day.

  “Have a seat. I don’t have all day, Ms. Stileano.”

  She shook her head clear of that misguided detour of beauty just to land on his face. Mia was dating this guy. She was glad she chose a pantsuit over a skirt. She imagined her legs would’ve blushed from all the heat gushing straight betwee
n her legs. Did legs even blush? Was that possible? Because it sure felt possible right at this moment.

  She knew Mia had a knack for picking out handsome guys, but damn! This man was perfection at its finest, from his stylish hair to his angular jaw that looked meant for kissing to his suit that fit him like a glove. Even though he was sitting comfortably in his chair, she could tell the suit fit him to perfection.

  Not that she cared how well the suit fit him.

  She took a few more steps before sinking into the chair. Another plush, comfortable chair that made her want to groan with satisfaction. And maybe a little from the piercing depths of his dark brown eyes that seemed to stare straight through her. Right down to her very soul.

  “It’s Still-ano. Not Style-ano. And I apologize. The view from your office is amazing.” She pointed at the window as she tried to make up for her complete lack of decorum.

  She needed him to turn toward the window. She needed some time to regain her composure. He was sex wrapped up into a nice delectable package with a beautiful red bow to tie it closed. Merry Christmas to her. Or not. He was Mia’s boyfriend.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the gorgeousness before her. It was totally okay to look. But no touching. He had brown hair, about as deep as his sharp brown eyes, combed to the right with a slight wave. It was short but long enough to tame with a comb. She was curious if she ran her hands through it if it would stick straight up or fall flat, resting into the same pattern he combed it into.

  Mia. Think of Mia. This was her boyfriend. You are not touching the man’s hair.