Chloe was used to it by now, the popularity. And I supported her in it, but it wasn’t that great for our teenage daughter.
“What do you mean, Dad?” Becca asked and slurped on the end of her milkshake.
“About Paris. About living here? Studying here? What do you think?”
Becca’s bright green eyes widened. “Are you serious? You think I could… Are you serious?”
Chloe grinned and removed a letter from her purse. “Here, honey.” She slid it across the table. “This came for you in the mail two days ago. We wanted to wait for the perfect moment to let you know.”
“What is it?” Becca lifted the envelope. “Oh my god. Oh my god. This is from the Paris School of Arts and Dance. Is this—?” Her mouth opened and shut, trying to form the words.
“Open it,” I said, grinning at her. She was so much like Chloe, but she had hints of me in there. The nose, the personality, the stubborn streak. Then again, that was from Chloe too. She had a double helping of stubborn. “Go on.”
Becca dragged her teeth over her bottom lip twice, then slit the top of the envelope open and poured the contents out. She lifted the paper and unfolded it reverently. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the lines of text. “Oh my god!” She squealed it and leaped up, almost upsetting her plate of crêpes. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”
Laughter rumbled through my chest.
“I got in! I got in!” Becca rushed around to our side of the table and grabbed us both. She hugged us, all while squeaking and giggling at the top of her lungs.
“OK, honey, relax. Dogs can hear you right now,” I said.
“She’s excited.” Chloe patted her daughter on the back. “Let her be excited.”
Becca did pirouettes around the table in perfect form, and roused applause from the teens who’d been snapping pics of Chloe before. “I can’t believe I got in,” she said and sat down in her chair again. Strands of hair escaped from the tight bun she’d forced her hair into.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “You’re a gifted dancer, honey, and you’ve worked damn hard at it. Of course you got in. You said you felt good about that audition.”
“I know, but with the visas and the complications, I didn’t think that… I don’t know. I was just afraid it wouldn’t come true. Have you ever had a dream and you were so close, but just when you thought you were about to reach it, it got snatched away?”
Chloe laughed. “I think I can relate.”
“Well, that’s not happening to me. I’m in.” Becca gave one last sigh and sat back, squeezing her eyes shut, a smile on her face.
It warmed me from the inside, that view. My daughter content. My daughter ambitious and ready to take on the world, to achieve her dreams.
“I’m personally relieved you got in,” I said.
Becca’s eyes snapped open. “Why?”
“Well.” I drew the set of keys out of my pocket and placed them on the table. “It would’ve been a waste to buy you an apartment in France if you hadn’t.”
“Are you… Dad…?”
“He’s serious,” Chloe said. “Even though, curse him, I didn’t want you to move away from home right away, but he’s serious. It’s yours, Becca. We are so proud of you.”
Becca broke into another round of squeals, and writhed around in her seat. “You guys are the best. The best.”
“This is your opportunity to achieve your dreams,” Chloe said. “Promise me, you won’t let it go.”
“I promise, Mom. Never.”
We settled back into eating, laughing, drinking coffee, the afternoon wearing on beneath the Parisian sun. The waiters scowled at us for the disturbance occasionally, but fuck ’em. My little girl was about to set off on the most amazing adventure of her life.
“You guys fell in love in Paris, right?” Becca asked.
Chloe gave me the side-eye. She was as beautiful as ever. Mature, curvaceous, with those sparkling gems for eyes, and a way about her that was all her own. “No idea where you heard that.”
“We did. Well, you did. I loved you from the start,” I said.
“So, how did it happen?”
We’d been saving the story for quite a while. In fact, we’d promised Becca that we would tell her after her eighteenth birthday, and this little trip to France was a celebration of that.
“Do you want to start, or should I?” Chloe asked. “I have a feeling that you’ll tell it differently.”
“Hmm. Let me.”
“Go ahead.”
Becca’s nose wrinkled up. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be shocked?”
“Because you are.” Chloe lifted her croissant and took a bite, winking at our daughter.
“It all started,” I said, “when Aunt Addy was kidnapped by a crime boss.”
“What?!” Becca’s eyes went round as donuts. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I replied, laughing. “Now, let me start from the beginning…”
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Broken Sneak Peek
Amazon Top 30 Bestseller
She was broken and beautiful—and left for dead.
I found her in my father’s burning-down house.
Her memory was gone. My parents were missing.
Then it hit me.
This must be my new stepsister.
They say a person can’t control their feelings.
Well, I’m way beyond feelings with her.
I’m balls deep in straight obsession.
A desire to possess and protect her all at the same time.
I was doing an OK job at controlling my thoughts.
Until she walked in on me doing something… private.
Her name fresh on my lips.
I should have felt guilty.
But there’s no stopping what we both wanted.
Both needed.
This off-limits romantic suspense offers one hell of a happily ever after and a surprise ending guaranteed to leave you breathless.
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Chapter One
Cole
“I’m on my way,” I said, both hands on the wheel, the Bluetooth piece in my ear.
“Hurry, please,” my father replied quietly. “Something doesn’t feel right, Cole. There’s a bad—” He broke off. “And I don’t know—” Dad fell silent, completely, and I jerked in the driver’s seat, whipped my hands off the steering wheel.
“Dad? Dad, hello? Can you hear me?”
But then he was gone. And I was stuck on a fucking ferry to Nantucket with nothing but concern for company. This wasn’t like him. My father was a rock. The man had raised me for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t a rock, he was steel. He’d never once asked me for help, and now, on the day I was tasked with driving down to meet my new stepmother and stepsister, he called asking for it? Sounding soft and afraid, rather than his usual gruff self?
“Fuck,” I muttered and whipped the earpiece out. It stung my ear-hole, and I instantly regretted the decision. “Ahhhh,” I hissed, and flung it onto the passenger seat of my Audi then opened the door and put my foot on the sturdy deck of the ferry. I rose and scanned for someone who’d know what the hell they were doing.
A guy in a cheesy sailor uniform strolled between the cars, noting licenses on a clipboard and smiling at the folks seated in their vehicles.
“Hey, yo!” I yelled. Several heads turned toward me. The sailor dude looked up. “Yeah, you, how much longer until this thing is going to take?”
“There’s fifteen minutes of the trip left, sir.”
“Fifteen mi
nutes.” I brought out my wallet and waggled it at him like it was a treat and he was about to get damn lucky. “You make it five and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”
The worker’s eyes went round, the whites showing. “Sir?”
“Did I stutter?”
“No, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t change the course or speed of the ferry. It’s on our website, sir. The trip takes two hours and fifteen minutes, total.”
“Two thousand dollars,” I replied evenly, and whipped out some bills to prove I was good for it. The soft breeze, the ocean smell, the gorgeous view on this summer’s day, it was all lost on me.
“Sir, I can’t just make the ferry go faster. You’re going to have to wait,” the man said.
Well, shit. That was a first. I’d been wealthy for most of my life, and I made a ton more money working in tech and real estate after I’d left my dad’s house. In my experience, money bought everything—including shorter trips across the ocean.
I sat back down in my car, grumbling under my breath.
He’ll be fine.
Regardless, I picked my cell off the dashboard and dialed my dad’s phone. He didn’t pick up. I tried the landline next, gritting my teeth through the incessant ringing. “Come on,” I muttered. “Pick up, Dad.”
Guilt swathed me.
I’d been out of reach lately. I’d left him hanging. Even coming out to meet his new wife and daughter this week had been a chore, and now this had happened.
Finally, the ferry docked, and I drove off and into the lot and onto the long street that joined with Cliff Road and wound up toward North Shore. Or at least, the portion of North Shore where his mansion was situated.
Tension built, crawled down my spine. This wasn’t normal. He was in danger.
Chill, asshole. He’s fine. My father hadn’t made any enemies. He wasn’t like me, in that regard. There wasn’t any reason he’d be in real danger.
My hands were on the wheel, my foot pressing down on the accelerator. Control. I had it. I didn’t have to wait for anyone else to do anything. It was in my hands, and that was how I liked it.
I turned into the road that wound toward the mansion and leaned forward, my gaze flicking from the road ahead to the sky. My stomach sank.
A plume of black smoke rose in the distance.
I orientated it in my mind.
No. Can’t be. Fuck!
I pressed my foot down and zipped forward. I skidded into the road that led up to the house. Flashing lights appeared in my rearview mirror, and a fire truck sped up behind me. The entrance to my father’s mansion came up on the right. I jerked the handbrake up and drifted the Audi through the open gates.
Open.
They were never open.
The mansion was at the end of a long gravel driveway. I tore up it.
Fire licked from the open windows on the top floor. The pool house to the left was already engulfed in flames. The front door was open at the head of the massive stone steps, but there was no one standing in it. My father wasn’t anywhere outside, clutching his new wife to his side.
I’d barely hit the brakes before my hand flew to the seatbelt, the door. I leaped out and rushed for the front entrance, the screech of the fire engine’s tires and shouts racing after me. Smoke poured from the hall, choked me up.
“Fuck,” I growled and ripped off my shirt. I tied it around my nose and mouth then dove inside. “Dad!” I yelled. “Dad, where are you?”
My eyes burned, and I could see but fuck all through the smoke. Get low. To the ground.
I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled toward the nearest room, coughing, spluttering, yelling for my father.
A figure appeared on the taupe carpeting ahead of me. A dainty hand, fingers curled against a palm, nails painted pale pink. The image stuck out to me. A woman. What was she doing here?
Stepsister.
I crawled over to her, throat dry, coughs hacking up it, and took hold of either arm. Carefully, I lifted her, moving into a crouch. I’d have to run out. Fuck the crawling and seeing. If she was in here, the firemen would find my father and my new stepmother as well. Had to.
A terrific crack rang out above me.
Move! Before the entire fucking ceiling comes down on your head.
She was light in my arms even though she was limp, and I darted through the smoke toward the entry hall. A thunderous crash, followed by a wave of heat, pursued me, but I didn’t stop to look back, didn’t fucking dare.
I spun left in the smoky entrance hall and burst out onto the stone front steps, gripping the woman in my arms. I coughed, stumbled down the steps, and halted on the gravel drive next to my car. Firemen dashed past me and into the fiery maw, shouts rang out, a thick hose was unrolled from the truck, and an ambulance rushed up the drive.
The woman was still out cold.
I bent and set her down on the gravel as gently as I could, then ripped the T-shirt from my face. My vision was blurry, involuntary tears streaming from my eyes. I coughed, blinked, wiped at my face. Finally, I cleared up a little, and my gaze fell on her.
My chest hitched.
The world around me slowed, almost disappeared entirely, and for a millisecond—one—there was no fire, no danger to my father, no sirens wailing or men shouting. There was only her.
She was perfect.
Soot-streaked, blonde, pale, arms positioned gently at her sides, her chest rising and falling, slowly. Curvy, perfectly proportioned, with an expression on her face that was truly peaceful, even through the smudges of soot.
A crawling sensation took up in my chest, the growing need to shelter her from flames and smoke, from danger, and I fisted my chest, tried to rid myself of it.
Who are you?
“Hey!” The shout broke the spell.
I looked up—a fireman charged toward me, pumping his fists through the air. “Hey, are you all right? What the hell were you thinking? You can’t rush into a—” He broke off, caught sight of the woman.
Your stepsister. She has to be. I’d never seen a picture of her. Not that it mattered.
My throat hurt like a sonofabitch, but I cleared it, tried to at least. “My father,” I croaked. “My father and his wife are in the building. You have to get them out.”
“We’ll take care of it,” the guy in uniform said, then looked back over his shoulder. “Here, there are medics coming. Stay right here. Don’t move her.”
“No shit,” I replied, coughing into my fist. I couldn’t move her, much less myself. Christ, if I hadn’t already expended all of my energy and inhaled a truckload worth of smoke, I would’ve run back into that mansion myself and found my father.
How the hell did this happen?
I looked down at the woman. What was her name? My father had definitely told me, but I was so shitty when it came to remembering dates and names. Liv. Short for Olivia.
It struck a gong in my brain as I stared at her.
She’d know what’d happened. She had to.
A pair of medics rushed up to us, carrying a stretcher. They lowered it and set to work on her, checking her pulse, lifting her onto it, strapping her in. Another rushed over to me and lowered himself to a crouch, gripping a small flashlight in hand.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
“No, the smoke has clogged my ears.”
Confusion shot across the paramedic’s expression.
“Of course, I can hear you. Where are you taking her?” I asked, rising to my feet.
“To the hospital.”
Of course. Dumbass question. But I’d been instantly protective at the thought of her being taken away. My stepsister. Dad. Where the hell is Dad? I turned back toward the mansion, torn between following the ambulance to the hospital and staying, waiting for them to bring out my father.
Fire leaped from the windows on the top floor and licked at the sills, the eaves. A groaning creak rang out, and two firemen dashed out of the house, empty-handed, jumped off the porch, and tumbled onto the lawn
.
The creak became a crack, and the left side of the roof, right above where I’d found my new stepsister, Liv, caved in, spitting sparks and motes of soot. The flames roared on and the men opened the hose and delivered water onto the building.
“Shit,” I muttered, gripping fistfuls of my hair. “Shit. That can’t be it.” I strode forward. “Dad!”
A hand shot out and landed on my chest, held me back from charging into the burning ruin a second time. “Easy there. Whoa.” A gruff male voice.
I shrugged off the grip but didn’t move forward.
The house was a mess. There was no way in without certain fucking death, and sweat broke out on my forehead. I turned on the fireman beside me and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Where are they?” I growled. “Where’s my father? His wife?”
“Sir, you need to calm down,” the guy replied.
“Where?” But the whoop of the ambulance’s siren cut me off. I spun toward it, watching as the doors slapped shut, as the medics hopped into it.
There was nothing I could do here. And there was the off chance that my stepsister would know where my father was—perhaps, he’d left the house before the fire had started. Tried to call the cops. That would explain why the ambulance had arrived in time to save my stepsister.
It’s false hope.
I gritted my teeth, warring with myself over this, drawn to following her despite my instincts to stay, to tear through the burning building again, even if it meant endangering myself.
A roaring crack sounded from the house and another section of the roof caved in.
Swiftly, I detached from the fireman, from the second medic who tried to approach me, and hurried for my car. If anyone would know what had happened, it would be her.
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Broken Hero Sneak Peek
Brutal protector. War Hero. Damaged goods.
Best Man with Benefits Page 22