“Damn straight. We both know you belong to me.” He smiled before he pulled me closer to him. “I ordered breakfast. You want to go get ready so we can eat and head back home?”
“Do we have to?” I whined, placing my leg over his.
“No, we don’t. If you want we can stay here all weekend, all week, or all month. I can have Melissa send down your essentials.” He planted a kiss on my forehead.
“That’d be nice.” I kissed his chest, then pushed myself up and left the warm bed for the bathroom. I needed to get back to reality.
Raindrops were big and heavy on the roof of the car, making the ride home soothing. Peyton focused on the road as I stared at the trees passing us on the highway.
“What are you thinking about, Braelynn?” Peyton asked after we’d paid the toll heading into Manhattan. It wasn’t like him to use my full name.
“Just thinking about last night.”
“Ah, I see. You liked the show you put on for the people below.” He chuckled when I gasped, shocked by his remark.
“Whatever.” I crossed my arms in front of me and looked at the city blocks approaching. When we stopped at a red light a few blocks from my house, he took my hand in his.
“Can I see you again?” His eyes were soft, hopeful.
“Peyton …” I wanted to see him every day, but I knew better. This couldn’t happen again, especially not with the pre-trial date coming up.
“It can stay between us. If we have to get away for the weekend to be together, so be it. Or we can meet at my place if you’re more comfortable. We don’t have to discuss work or the outside world … just you and me, Lynn.” His bright eyes lit up the gloomy day.
I chewed the inside of my lip as I weighed my options. I wanted him in more ways than I was willing to admit. But could I do this? Could I keep it just sex with no emotions involved? No, you’re going to get attached. He was the type of guy who would end up breaking my heart, but there was no way I could deny myself what I wanted—potential heartbreak or not.
I exhaled and leaned in, placing my lips on his for a gentle kiss. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
We pulled up to my house and I took my overnight bag from his back seat before leaning into him for a long good-bye kiss. He was mine, the same way I was his. Even if I couldn’t tell anyone.
His hand caressed my cheek as he looked deep into my eyes. “I’ll see you soon?”
“Yeah, just call me.” I kissed his lips one last time before opening the door.
The engine purred down my block as I turned to head up my steps. Gustavo was waiting for me under the awning.
Fuck.
“Hi.” I could hear the fear in my voice. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed who the driver was.
“Braelynn.” His arms were crossed over his chest. “Friend of yours?” He looked down the city block to the turning car.
“Uh, yeah. Some guy I met that night at Shakes. We hit it off, and I spent the night with him in AC.” Maybe I’ll be a kick-ass lawyer after all. Coming up with lies on the spot was something I had never mastered until recently.
“Must be a somebody, considering he’s driving through Manhattan in a car worth over a hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
He threw the fact out like it was a commonly known thing. I stopped dead in my tracks. “How much?”
“Brae, that’s a Maserati Gran Turismo. He isn’t just some guy. He’s a filthy rich guy.”
I opened my front door and tried to avoid his eyes. “Oh … didn’t know.” I kicked my shoes off and walked over to the couch. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure. Does it have to do with your beau dropping you off early in the morning before Kennedy is done at the hospital?” He sat next to me and kicked his feet on top of the coffee table.
“If Kennedy asks, can you just say I crashed at your place? I don’t want to deal with her twenty questions routine.” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes.
“Who is he?”
I couldn’t tell him, but I wanted to.
Sighing, I sat back and lifted my feet onto the couch. “I don’t want to talk about him yet. It’s new and I’m not sure how I feel about him. And he’s the first guy since …”
“Okay, baby girl.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “I won’t say a peep.” I thanked God for placing Gus in my life when I always needed him most.
“Thanks, Gussy.”
Haas
I pulled up in front of the fountain and put the car in park. This was not a house I grew up in, but it was the one I most enjoyed visiting. My parents had four different homes they lived in during different seasons, not including their vacation homes. My mother was famous for needing a change.
This house looked like a European villa, my mother’s idea when she’d had it designed. The massive home had gray bricks, which gave it the castle-like feel she enjoyed, and a garden located to the right of the fountain that stood in front of the three-car garage.
It was their last weekend in the Hamptons before they vacated to Newport for the summer. Since I’d missed my mother’s last family luncheon, I dropped Braelynn off at her apartment, then stopped home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before hitting the road again. Thankfully, the rain let up before I left the city.
Stepping out of the car, I noticed my mother in the garden clipping her flowers. “Mother?”
“Peyton, is that you, honey?” She rose from the grass and tossed her gloves to the ground. “Oh, sweetie. I'm so happy you could make it.”
I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Are you getting the garden ready for the summer?”
“Just some light trimming. Ronaldo knows what he's doing, but I wanted to give him a head start.”
“How are things?” I wrapped my arm around her petite frame, bringing her close for an embrace.
“Eh, same as always.” She shrugged her shoulder and smiled up at me. “Your grandmother has no idea who I am anymore, your father refuses to work less, Taylor acts like a child most of the time, and I'm afraid you and Spencer will be so focused on your careers that you’ll never give me any grandchildren.” She backhanded me in the chest with her last statement.
“Maybe Taylor can work on giving you a grandchild, Mother,” I joked.
“Peyton, the only thing your brother has given me lately is headaches. You and Spencer were a breeze growing up, but most days I have to yell at Taylor to get up so he isn’t late to your father’s office. He is twenty-four years old. I shouldn’t have to wake him up every morning.”
I slung my arm over my mother’s shoulder, kissing her on the head. Spencer and I were only eleven months apart, and while I was attending Harvard, she had moved out west to attend Stanford University. Ever since then, she’d only returned home for quick visits. Taylor was a different story. He was the baby of the family and my father would rather look the other way than admit Taylor was screwing up.
“How has he been lately?” I asked. Her eyes were sad when she looked up at me. She knew from my tone that I was only asking to be polite. I didn’t care how my father was doing. Our relationship had taken a turn for the worse when I graduated high school and had never recovered.
“The doctors asked him to work less, but he refuses. He’s waiting for you to take over.”
“Mom, you know that’s not what I want.”
I had dropped my father’s name for that reason—I didn’t want to walk in his footsteps and take over his empire. I didn’t want the torch to be handed off to me.
“Peyton, he’s your father. You know he wants you to take over when he retires.”
We walked around the house, heading toward the outdoor kitchen and terrace. As lunch was prepared, I said hello to my aunt and uncle, whom I hadn’t seen since the last time my mother hosted one of these. Dropping the bottle of wine I’d brought in the fridge, I found Margaret inside the house finishing the last touches for lunch. She was my nanny and fill-in mother, and her husband Wi
lson was the best father figure a kid could have. Since my mother always had a committee to run or a charity to start when we weren’t in school, Margaret and Wilson had helped raise the three of us, attending all our soccer practices, ballet recitals, and football games.
Walking over to the stove, I hugged Margaret around the waist and kissed the top of her gray hair. “Oh, child!” She slapped my hands that were secured around her waist. “You’re going to give me a heart attack sneaking up on me like that.” Her southern voice was high-pitched when she spoke.
“Where’s Wilson?”
“He went to the market to pick up a few things for me.” She turned and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Let me take a look at you.” She drew back, holding me by my shoulders. “My little Peyton, you’re all grown up now. You need to stop being a stranger and come see us more often.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I kissed her cheek.
“Have you seen your father?” Her lips curled up in a kind smirk. “I know he’ll be glad to see you.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will.”
If I knew my father, glad to see me was not exactly how he’d be feeling. My father hated that I dropped his name and despised the fact I had branched out on my own, leaving the family business he had created to Spencer and Taylor.
“You two need to stop this war you have going on. It’s driving your mother mad.”
I kissed Margaret’s forehead again before hugging her tightly. “Will do, ma’am.”
Exiting the kitchen, I walked through the family room looking for my father. Surprised when he wasn’t in the recliner watching CNN, I kept looking and found him in his office reading the Washington Post.
I knocked softly. “Working on the weekends now? Mother’s going to give you an earful if she finds you in here.”
“Peyton, my boy. No, I’m just reading the paper and needed a quiet room. You know how your aunt and uncle get when they have a couple of glasses of wine in them. Can’t shut them up.” Setting the paper aside, he rose and walked toward the bar, where I stood.
Reaching for two Collins glasses, I lifted one of the crystal bottles and poured us his finest scotch. “Sir.” I handed a glass to him and we raised our glasses to each other before lifting them to our lips. The savory malt aftertaste was smooth down my throat.
His hand slapped me on the shoulder. “How are things?”
“Good.”
“Everything good at the office? Drew’s case okay?”
My father wanted all his children to follow in his footsteps: attend his alma mater, graduate top of our classes, and start at McAlister Industries the following day. I had plans of my own—being my own person and creating a name for myself. That didn’t sit well with him. Discussing my workload or any cases I was working was never something we’d done before. My only guess as to why he was so curious was that I was doing him a favor, since he knew how much I hated that prick Drew.
“Yes, sir. Things are moving smoothly. I believe lunch is ready, shall we?” I nodded my head to the doorway.
The relationship with my father was complicated to understand. I didn’t want to be the next CEO of McAlister Industries or follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to be the next McAlister heir like he had been with my grandfather. I didn’t want to own a portfolio of enterprises and be stuck traveling overseas for business all the time. Because of that, along with some personal information I’d found out when I turned eighteen, our relationship had turned. Our pleasantries were now limited to how his work was going and nothing more.
I followed my father through the kitchen to the outside patio. My maternal grandmother cooed at me and I kissed her cheek before taking a seat next to my aunt.
As my mother gushed over the latest charity board she was a part of, I cracked open the beer Wilson handed me as he passed, heading in from the market. Digging into the crudité and cheese platters Margaret had placed on the table, I tuned out the conversation until I heard my mother call my name.
“Peyton, I got a call the other day from the event coordinator. She said you left the gala early. Was everything all right?”
“You left early?” my father questioned.
It wasn’t acceptable for a McAlister to leave their own event early. The only reason I had stepped away was to confront Braelynn about Gustavo. I took a swig of my beer and set it back down. “No, sir. There was a problem in the upstairs restroom that I needed to attend to, followed by a problem in the kitchen that needed my attention.”
“Next time let the event staff handle it,” my father said distractedly. “Where’s Taylor?” He looked around. “Lunch will be served soon.”
My chair scraped over the wood floor as I slid back and stood. “I’ll go get him,” I said, dropping my napkin over my empty plate.
“Last I saw he was on the tennis courts,” my mother said as I walked down toward the grass.
The perfectly manicured lawn lead down to the tennis courts where the guesthouse was located. I heard my brother’s voice as I cut through the privacy hedge.
“Come on, baby. You know I wanna see you.” He held a tennis racquet in one hand and his phone was glued to his ear in the other.
I lifted the lock on the gate door, pushing it open. “Begging for pussy again, Tay?”
“Fuck you!” he said to me before turning his attention back to the phone. “No, not you, baby. My brother. He just showed up at my house. Can I call you later?” He waited for the response. “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Keep your phone on you.” Dropping his phone into his back pocket, he walked over to me and pulled me in for a hug. “My man.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your groveling.” I laughed.
“Come on, you know I don’t beg.”
“Now I know you’re full of shit.”
“Lunch ready?” he asked, zipping the racquet back into its cover.
“Yeah, just about.”
“You sticking around, or are you having lunch and leaving?”
“Why?” I crossed my arms and cocked my head to the side.
“Well, I need a ride back to the city. I’m meeting a couple of buddies later at this club. You wanna come with, be my wingman? We can play the brothers’ card.”
I passed through the hedge again with Taylor trailing behind. “I’m not your fucking chauffeur; drive your damn self. And I’m not in the mood for a club tonight.”
“Why not? If I remember correctly, last time we went out you had your eye on a smokin’ blonde, and you left me your car so you could call Owen to come get you both.”
I chuckled at his reference to the first night I met Braelynn. “Whatever you say, Tay. I’ll join you, but I’m not in the mood to bring anyone home.”
“Wait … You don’t want to bring anyone home?” He stopped and tugged on my arm to make me face him.
“What’s the big fucking deal?”
“Holy fuck us all.” He outstretched his arms like he was speaking to a large stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, my brother is not in the mood to go catch some tail—something he personally taught me to do so well. What are you, bro? Pussy-whipped?”
“Fuck off, Taylor.” Is he right? I liked spending time with Braelynn, and I wanted to fuck her a couple more times, but I wasn’t whipped. It was just sex between us, but I didn’t think another woman would do it for me. At least not right now.
He jabbed me in the shoulder as he jogged past. “It’s okay, man. I know it’s because you’re old as shit. You have to grab on to the broads that still want to suck your dick. Fresh meat don’t wanna deal with your old, sorry ass.” He ran up the stairs, kissing my mother on the cheek before going inside the house to change out of his tennis gear.
I shook my head and laughed at how naïve he was. “Fucking idiot,” I mumbled under my breath.
After lunch, I stuck around the house long enough to help Margaret in the kitchen and catch up with Wilson. Then I said good-bye to my parents before Taylor and I headed back to Manhattan. His plans had changed in the past
few hours; his night out at the club had apparently fallen apart, so he was planning to spend the night with his lady friend.
Who is pussy-whipped now?
Braelynn
The commencement ceremony was like my college graduation. Loren and Jennifer cried through the whole ceremony as they held each other, my two proud “moms.” Gus and Kennedy beamed at me, cheering me on. I turned toward the crowd and waved at them right before my name was called. My sister’s tears brought tears to my own eyes; I wouldn’t be who I was if it weren’t for her sacrifices. She had always put me first—a selfless love that could not be broken. I blew her a kiss and mouthed a “thank you.” She nodded back at me and I stepped onto the stage to receive my diploma.
The ceremony was over within an hour and I joined Loren, Jennifer, and Kennedy for refreshments; Gus had to leave right after the ceremony. Professor Goldstein gave me a hug and joked about being at work first thing the next day. I chuckled when he walked away, but my laughter died when I noticed Peyton heading our way. My heart pounded and I took a deep breath as he approached. He had a mischievous grin on his face, and his eyes burned into me with each step he took.
“Jennifer.” He tapped her on the shoulder. His voice soothed the ache I felt in my chest.
“Peyton!” Jennifer turned and kissed him on the cheek. She stepped aside to introduce the group. “What a surprise to see you here. This is my friend Loren and—”
“Braelynn,” he finished, rendering us all silent. He moved past Jennifer and stepped inside our small circle. His lips touched my cheek and I closed my eyes, holding my breath. “Congratulations,” he whispered in my ear.
Kennedy coughed, distracting us from our moment. I pulled away and attempted to focus on the other people in the room instead of the tingling sensation his lips left on my cheek. “Um … Peyton, you know Kennedy.” He reached across and shook her hand. “And this is my sister, Loren.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, taking her hand.
“And how do you know Braelynn?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
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