Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!)

by Kim Linwood

  “Well, that depends on you now, doesn’t it? Paying attention?” I put a hand around his throat, pinning his head back to the wall.

  He gasps for air. I’m not holding him hard enough to really choke, but it’s enough to freak him out. “Fuck! Yes. Yes!”

  “Good.” I give him a little squeeze with my fingers. “This blackmailing shit is done. Now. Got it? You’re never going to come anywhere close to Claire again, or me for that matter. You make my fucking skin crawl.”

  I’m not proud of how good it feels to scare the shit out of this guy. It’s tempting to press harder, until his red face turns purple. I will my fingers to relax before I give in to the temptation.

  He jumps on it the second he thinks I’m backing down. “I make your skin crawl? Big words coming from a creep fucking his sister. How do you think that’s going to fly with the folks? You think you’re some big shot, saving Claire from a sleaze like me?” Michael cackles, looking me right in the eyes. “Guys like you move from girl to girl like fucking trophies. Yeah, I screwed up and I’m paying for it, but you? You’re worse. It’s just a matter of time before you get bored and move on to the next warm hole. Guess who’s going to be the shithead then, tough guy. This is all going to blow up in your fucking face.”

  I slam him again, my grin widening at his pained grunt. “Mind your own fucking business and let me deal with that. I’m nothing like you.”

  He lunges out so fast with his leg that he catches me off guard, straight into my balls.

  Oh. My. Fucking. God. That hurts.

  I stagger only a moment, but it’s enough for him to wrench free and dive for his bedroom door. Gritting my teeth, I follow, but he manages to get inside and slam the door shut, followed by a soft click. I grasp the door and shake it, but it doesn’t budge.

  Locked.

  “Michael,” I yell, shoving down the nausea that’s churning in my gut. I was only going to scare him. Now I’m gonna fucking kill him. “You’re only making this worse for yourself. I will kill you.”

  He yells back at me through the door, “If you get out of here now, I’ll forget this ever happened. I’ll give you this one chance. But if I ever hear or see you near me or Claire again, that video is going out to everyone she has ever known.”

  Fuck that shit. I back up a few steps before charging, leading with my shoulder. I slam into the door so hard the hinges creak and rattle as the cheap-ass frame pulls away from the wall.

  “That’s it! I’m calling the police. I’m dialing 91-fucking-1 right now. Is this what you want? You’re going to jail, motherfucker.” His voice cracks.

  I take a step back and look around. There, on the glass coffee table. “Hey Michael, this isn’t your phone out here, is it?”

  “It’s—it’s my backup. The real one’s in here, and I’m dialing right—”

  I slam into the door again, and this time the hinges come so loose that it’s hardly more than a push needed to knock it over.

  He screams in terror. “For fuck’s sake, you’re insane!”

  Am I? I feel a little crazy, and I let it all shine out as I step towards him, ready to pounce. “Do we have a deal, or no? Please say no. This is fun.” There’s nothing I want more than to beat him to a pulp, but the important thing is that he leaves Claire alone.

  I’d also prefer to stay out of jail, but the more out of control he thinks I am, the easier it is to intimidate him.

  “Fine! Yes! For God’s sake, just leave me alone.” The defeat in his voice is sweet music to my ears.

  “Your date’s off. Our parents are getting married on Sunday, and the last thing Claire needs is to worry about you fucking up her life.” I draw a deep breath. “You lost, needledick. Now call her, I’m not leaving until I hear you do it.”

  “I’ll call her.”

  “Now! I want to hear you grovel.”

  There’s a pause, just long enough to make me wonder if he’s going to be smart and do it, or if I’m going to have to get physical again.

  “Fine. Alright. I’ll call now, but I need my phone,” he whines as he pulls himself off the floor.

  Right. I turn towards the table, and I’m just picking the phone up when I hear a suspicious noise behind me. I whirl in time to see him come charging at me with a fucking baseball bat clutched over his head.

  Seriously?

  Dodging to the side, I get out of the way just fast enough to avoid getting brained. Instead, the bat continues down until it slams into the table, shattering the glass top with a loud crash. Shards fly everywhere, covering the cheap rug and spattering onto his couch and recliner. Good luck cleaning those out later.

  He roars, ignoring the damage and coming after me again. This time, I’m ready. When he pulls back for a side swing, I charge him, hooking my arms under his and carrying him forward into a full tackle onto the floor. He screams as he lands, and I hope to fucking God he got some of those glass shards digging into his back.

  The bat rattles over the floor, and my fist meets his face, pounding his head into the floor before he has a chance to go for it. My heart’s pounding like a fucking jackhammer, pumping blood through my veins so hard it hurts, but his eyes are wild and unfocused and I don’t want to do permanent damage, so I let it go with the one punch. I jump off him and grab the bat, hefting it like I’m about to swing. “Don’t you fucking get up, or I’m going to score a fucking home run with your balls.”

  He’s up on his elbows, but he drops back down to the floor. “I’ll call her,” he wheezes. There’s a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and when he exhales a little spit bubble carries more with it. “I’ll call her.”

  “That’s right. Right fucking now. And if I hear anything more from you after that, I’ll be back to play ball. Got it? Claire had better be smiling when she comes in to work tomorrow.” I shake the bat at him threateningly, and he immediately curls up, protecting his nuts. Smart man.

  He doesn’t say anything, just watches me like I’m a wild animal, breath wheezing out of him. He’s done. He knows I know where to find him now.

  “Come on. I don’t have all fucking day.” I dropped the phone when he jumped me, but it looks okay. I gesture at it with the bat. “Pick it up. Speaker phone.”

  He dials with shaking fingers, and then we both listen in silence while it rings. On the third one, she picks up. “Michael? I said I was sorry about tonight. Is everything still okay for Wednesday?” Her voice is fucking music to my ears, but the nervous sound in her voice makes me feel like I let him off easy.

  “Uh... hey. Actually, about that...” His voice quavers and he keeps glancing my way before looking back down. I gesture at him to get on with it.

  “What is it? I’m doing what you wanted.”

  “Listen, I—Well, I’m calling it off.” He swallows deeply.

  “Do you need to reschedule?”

  “No, I mean the whole thing. I’ve changed my mind.” He draws a deep breath, forcing the words out. “I met someone else, so there’s no point.”

  “Are you serious? You wanted this badly enough to threaten my whole life and now... you don’t care?” She sounds shocked and pissed off. “Because you met somebody.”

  “Yeah. Love at first sight or whatever. You’re free.” He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, scowling when I blow him a kiss. “I won’t bother you again.”

  “And you’re going to get rid of that video? For real this time?”

  “I swear.”

  “I don’t know what changed your mind, but thank you.” She sounds relieved, but suspicious. I can’t say that I blame her. “Well, I guess, goodbye then.”

  “Yeah. Goodbye.” Michael’s voice sounds dead. Completely void of emotions. He stands up and looks at me, his eyes hard. “Happy? I did like you asked.”

  “I’m not going to be fucking happy until I’ve brained you with this thing.” I shake the bat at him and he scuttles away from me.

  “Jesus Christ! I did what you told me to. Just get the hell out of he
re.”

  “Now, I know that making you delete the video while I watch doesn’t mean a fucking thing. Who knows how many copies you’ve got squirreled away? But if I ever hear anything about you bothering Claire again, I will be back. And then I won’t stop. Got it?”

  “I’m not an idiot, so yeah.” He shakes his head and brushes glass off his sleeves. “I get it, you’re bigger and stronger, but you’re no better than I am. We’re both using her, but at least I was offering her more than a cheap fuck and a screwed up family tree.”

  It would be so tempting to swing this bat. I can feel it, the muscles in my shoulder drawing it back and letting it sail forward until it wipes him from existence. I don’t, because he’s not worth it.

  But I do swing and let it sail right past him, getting a sick sort of pleasure out of the look on his face when he thinks it’s all over, and the dark spot that grows slowly down the leg of his pants.

  I’m nothing like him.

  And if I keep telling myself that long enough, it might even be true.

  Claire

  “What's the difference between a lawyer and a leech?” Carl peers at me from behind the reception counter, waiting for my answer while chewing his cruller.

  I munch on mine while I think. This breakfast ritual is hell on my waistline, but today I feel like celebrating. My diet can start tomorrow. Or maybe next week. I shrug. “No idea.”

  “After you die, a leech stops sucking your blood,” Carl finishes with his best vampire impersonation.

  I shake my head and groan. “Your jokes are awful.”

  “Hah!” He points a finger at me. “Aren’t they, though? It’s what I love about them. So what’s got you in such a great mood this morning? Did you pull Declan into the broom closet for a quickie?”

  A bit of donut gets stuck halfway down. I glare at him as my throat convulses and I try to keep from spraying half chewed food all over his workstation. “What?” I gasp.

  “You. Declan. Boy parts. Girl parts. Did your parents really never have this talk?”

  “Carl!”

  He shrugs. “So, how is this going to work after your parents get hitched?”

  There goes my good mood. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s fine. Your secret is safe with Uncle Carl. I don’t blame you for not listening to me the other day. Sometimes logic can’t trump chemistry, and I could tell from the moment I showed you into his office your first day that there was something between the two of you.”

  “It’s not like that. We’re not—” I wave my hands dismissively.

  “If you aren’t then maybe you should. Get it out of your systems.”

  I snort. “Not likely.” If only it were that easy. I’m not sure I’ll ever get him out of my system at this rate.

  “Ah, so that’s the problem.” He grins and picks a chocolate glazed out of the donut box. “What’s really keeping you two apart? Aside from angst. Ah to be young and in lust again.”

  “Do you like those donuts? Because they could stop, you know,” I grumble.

  “No, I mean really. I know the whole family situation is awkward, but it’s not like you two are related, and yes, you are working together right now, but that’s temporary.” Taking a bite, he chews slowly while watching me quietly freak out.

  “I...” I stop and actually think about it.

  He’s right on both counts. Our parents would probably be shocked, and so long as I’m working for Garrett and Declan, we would have to keep it quiet, but neither of those things are insurmountable. My situation with Michael was a much bigger problem than either of those, and that’s over now.

  So what’s really stopping us?

  I don’t trust him.

  With the way we met, and everything he’s said to me the whole way through our stupid, twisted non-relationship, I just don’t trust him.

  “Weren’t you the one who told me he was broken?” I remind Carl.

  He smiles gently at me, putting the jokester on hold. “Broken things can be repaired, kiddo. Would I worry about you if you got involved with him? Sure, but I’ve known him a long time. He’s been different since you showed up. You’ve thrown him off his game, and he’s scrambling to pretend everything is normal.”

  As if on cue, the elevator dings behind me and spits out Declan. Carl and I both jump, quickly switching topics, but not before Carl reaches over and squeezes my hand.

  “Morning.” Declan grins, completely unaware that we were just psychoanalyzing him. He grabs a Boston creme on his way past.

  There’s a bandage across his knuckles, which seems pretty strange since it wasn’t there when I left the office last night. “What happened to your hand?”

  He looks down like he’s forgotten it’s there. “Oh, nothing. Just slammed it into something that was denser than I thought.” His mouth stretches into his trademark cocky grin.

  “Denser than you thought?” That sounds fishier than a chum bucket during Shark Week.

  “Yeah. Listen, I need to talk to you about Sunday. See me in my office when you’re done here?”

  A slippery switch of topic, but I let it go. “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I watch him walk back to his office, and I should probably be thinking about work, or what sort of stupid fight he got into, but all I can see is how good he looks in a suit. Not to mention how good he looked out of it. Maybe there are a couple of other injuries that need tending to.

  Carl coughs politely. Sarcastically, but politely. “You’re right. I’m totally off base and there’s obviously nothing going on between the two of you except brotherly and sisterly affection.”

  “Shut up, you.”

  “Just think about it, okay? The way you two look at each other when you forget to be annoyed? That doesn’t show up every day. It might be worth taking a chance.”

  “We’ll see. First we need to get through this wedding without killing each other. Then I’ll think.”

  Declan’s door is open when I get back to our area, so I walk in. “What’s up?”

  He’s standing by the far wall, facing the windows. His hands are crossed behind his back as he looks out over the city. “You don’t have to worry about Michael anymore.”

  “Wha—what do you mean?”

  “He’s going to leave you alone. We had a... chat, I guess you could call it. There were words involved.” As he steps closer, he moves out of the glare and I can see he’s being dead serious.

  The whole situation feels like a cheesy scene out of a mob movie. “I don’t have to worry about him anymore? Jesus, you didn’t kill him, did you?” My face is probably as white as a sheet. I don’t think he’d actually do anything that crazy, but maybe? I knew Michael’s excuse about having met someone sounded like bullshit. Now I know why.

  Declan laughs and shakes his head. “Nah. Tempting, but he’s not worth it. He did get a pretty clear message, though. No more dates. No more calls. No more bothering you in any way. If he does, he’ll answer to me.”

  The smile on his face is both insanely hot, and scary as hell.

  Wait, if he knows about Michael...

  What about the video? Either he knows about it and I’m already one step towards total humiliation, or he doesn’t, and Michael still has his trump card hanging over my head.

  I try to choose my next words carefully. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, because I am, but there were things involved that were private.”

  “I know, Claire.” His voice is deep and velvety smooth. He sounds like he’s trying to reassure me, but does he really know everything?

  “You’ve... you’ve seen it?” I can’t even say the words.

  Declan dials back the gangster vibe a few notches and shakes his head. “Relax, you look like you’re about to puke. This was supposed to be good news. No, I haven’t seen whatever it is he had on you, and if he values his life, he’s going to keep it to himself until he dies of old age.” He comes a step closer, mouth quirking up at the corner. “Not that I’m not
curious.”

  “No!” I blurt out, waving my hands between us in big sweeping x’s. “No, you don’t. And I don’t want you to.” My heart is pounding a mile a minute. “This is serious. Promise me. Even if it somehow ends up in your hands, you’re not going to watch it. Promise me.”

  He looks into my eyes, a long, weighing gaze. The curiosity is obvious in his face, but he eventually nods. “Alright. I promise, and you know I don’t make promises lightly.” He comes another step closer, standing so near I have to crane my neck to look up at his face. “You’ve already made me break one, remember?”

  Oh yeah, I remember.

  One night only. I swallow hard. It’s hard to think when he’s so close. I step back reluctantly, nodding slowly. “Thank you.” I push my panic away. He’s fixed it, and he didn’t even kill anyone in the process. That I know of.

  A weight is lifted from my shoulders. I’m free. A smile threatens to break out on my face, especially when I look up at Declan, who’s waiting for me with an expectant look on his face. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  He shrugs, looking embarrassed. “The fucker deserved it. No sweat.”

  Now I do smile. My badass knight in shining Armani. It’s tempting to keep teasing, but I let him off the hook. “You wanted to talk about Sunday? Mom has the whole schedule worked out. I saw it the other day. You probably know about as much as I do. It’s been her show for the most part.”

  “Like everything else,” he mutters.

  “Oh, come on. Give her a break. Her whole job is to organize stuff. It’s what she does. You can’t hate her for that.” I don’t know why I feel the need to help Declan feel better, but I lean in and whisper. “It would be like hating you for having a gigantic...” He smirks. “Ego.”

  Declan laughs, and kisses the top of my head softly. It’s a completely unsexy gesture, but it knocks my emotions off balance faster than any other kiss we’ve shared. It’s sweet, and it makes me want more. He looks at me curiously, and I shake it off with a smile.

  “If you’re going to hate my mother for anything, hate her for thinking she can make pecan pie. I’d say more, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” I walk out before he can make me tell him if I’m joking or not. Next Thanksgiving will be more fun if he isn’t quite sure.