The Broken Sister (Sister #6)

by Leanne Davis

  He sighed, flopping his hands back on the mattress to stare up at the ceiling, fifteen feet up that peaked with canned lighting and two skylights. Morgan was right. They’d had this conversation a few times, and each time he knew she was correct. They had started seeing each other three years ago. They weren’t exclusive, which worked perfectly for both of them, since neither of them believed in that nor were looking for that. He’d almost pinched himself when he first started seeing her. She was allowing him to have sex with her, and anyone else he wanted! She was the daughter of one of his grandfather’s lawyers. They’d met through business, at a big charity dinner that her father and his grandfather had both been attending. Introduced, they had spent the rest of the evening flirting and ending up at his place. The sex had been phenomenal and their ease in conversation was like they’d known each other all their lives. She’d asked him to attend an opening for a line of perfume her company was releasing. She was VP of marketing at a large cosmetics company. They easily fell into dating each other. They had the same type of functions and requirements for business, but both of them were too busy to nurture needy spouses. Instead, their attraction grew naturally between them. No mention of exclusive or boyfriend/girlfriend status, until she mentioned one night she had a date with a race car driver she’d met the weekend before.

  He’d been a little stunned at first. Morgan just assumed he’d not mind. He’d never really said either way. He understood that she would be done with him if he said anything to counter her. He learned over the years she didn’t believe in love and had no intention of having a traditional marriage. She’d watched her mother stay with her faithless father in a charade she called “of epic proportions.” Much like Tristan’s parents’ marriage. It was something he understood about Morgan. She’d never allow any such foolishness to her life or live by such a stupid pretense. So they enjoyed each other’s company when it worked out. They dated others when they saw fit. They didn’t owe each other their itineraries, schedules or list of friends or sexual partners. She gave him total friendship, loyalty, and freedom. The perfect companion.

  He pulled himself up. Why then did he sometimes feel sunk with weight? Why, when they were together, was he sometimes hit by this deep, almost lonely feeling? Like he was with her, but isolated. Tristan shook his limbs as he adjusted his cobalt blue tie and swept his blond hair back into place from Morgan’s hands. What was his problem? He wasn’t cuddled enough? He shook his cuffs down and straightened his posture. His lips smirked up when he pictured his grandfather’s take on this; he was acting like a pussy. He had a beautiful, smart, successful companion in Morgan Hartley, who needed nothing from him. He wasn’t lonely. He was heading to the top of the world. He was heading towards running the large corporation his grandfather had put together, which had locations at over a half dozen spots in the United States, and they were both trying to turn those six into double or triple that. To make Tamasy Industries a real brand name in their very niche product ability.

  Now? It was going to end up being Tristan’s if he did this right. If he learned, grew, succeeded, and didn’t lose his balls.

  He knew his hesitation about today. It was dealing with this Kland5568. He dreaded it. It wasn’t business. It was damage control he completely resented having to take care of. But they worked with a variety of different industries, including the government, and most specifically the military. They couldn’t have a rape scandal connected to the name Tamasy, as it was too synonymous with Tamasy Industries.

  He quickly grabbed his soft, black leather brief case. He’d grab an espresso when he got to work. Today was about stopping anyone from wrecking the future he and his grandfather had dreamed of and built. Yes, Tommy was an idiot. But he didn’t deserve to be called a rapist. Tristan stared at the gleaming brass doors of the elevator of his building as it took him to his lobby. Yes, he did not need any such scandal. So Kland5568, watch the fuck out, because he highly resented having to do this kind of work; lying and covering when he had real, important, financial work to do. Legitimate work to do.

  Steeled with that resolve, once Tristan got to his office, he started to find out everything he could about one Kylie McKinley.

  Next up, he called his brother. “Kylie McKinley. The name mean anything to you?”

  Tommy had obviously been sleeping. Tristan rolled his eyes as he compulsively tapped his fingers on his desk, waiting for his probably hungover brother to wake up and answer him. Tommy was garbled and groggy as he muttered, “What?”

  “Kylie McKinley. The name mean anything to you?”

  “Uh… hell. Yeah. How do you know that name?”

  “She added a nice comment on that website about you doing it to her too. This is important, Tommy, wake up and answer me.”

  Tommy coughed and spat. Tristan cringed picturing his bedroom floor. “Pig” and “gross” were two adjectives to describe what Tommy’s manners were like. “Yeah. Yeah. I get it. This makes sense. I ran into her, yesterday afternoon of all freaking times. I hadn’t seen her up close in… years. I think freshman year. We hooked up. It was nothing spectacular, so, you know, I ignored her, kicked her to the curb. Guys told me she stumbled out of there all weepy the next morning. Walk of shame and all that. But look, Tris, she’s like that. That kinda girl. I could line up a dozen that could claim the same story as me, same walk of shame. She’s a skank. She must have seen me yesterday, and felt all hurt again. I barely remembered her. It took me like a damn minute to remember I even knew her, let alone had screwed her. Fucking slut bitch spreads crap about me? You gonna fix this shitty stuff?”

  Tristan sighed. It did seem a huge coincidence. They run each other after almost two years and now she says something? He sometimes felt the need for a shower after listening to his brother’s escapades. Even though he’d pretty much lived a parallel life in college, at thirty now, he just didn’t see the appeal any more. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

  He hung up the phone and began researching The Acorn, where he’d no doubt be eating dinner tonight.

  ****

  Kylie stayed home for only the night, but was back on campus for her classes at ten the next day. She felt a smidgeon better; more grounded, and bolstered by her family. They had sent her off with smiles, concern, and hugs. She had to work tonight, so there was no avoiding it. She had to face her life again.

  She dressed carefully in the black slacks, black Oxford shoes and a white button-up, with small apron that said The Acorn in silver across it. The waiter’s uniform was unisex and Kylie appreciated that. It was simple, unfeminine and basically how she dressed anyway. She’d worked at the high-end restaurant starting last summer. She’d only been hired because the guy who owned it was friends with Donny and had hired her as a favor. He’d met her and frowned his agreement over the nepotism. She never complained and was fast on her feet. So Douglas, the boss, had recently given her the compliment that if he had a few more like her he’d need half the wait staff. She had finally proven herself.

  She kept her hair pulled tight in a ponytail and wore minimal make-up. Douglas allowed the earrings she wore and her nose ring as long as she kept it small. The Acorn was a sophisticated club in one of the hotels in downtown Marsdale. The room was paneled in dark paneling and its lighting was low, creating a luxurious effect. The booths were all high backed, creating a sense of privacy, and each couple was in their own nook. There were lots of glasses used with each table setting and candles so the atmosphere reflected a beautiful, haunting experience. The bar was long and ran the length of the room, with deep cushioned seats before it. Most came in there for drinks and appetizers as much as dinner. It was basically everything that Kylie was not or grew up with. Most of the clientele seemed to wear suits and professional wear. Many traveled and were staying in the hotel. The clientele were usually older, demanding, professional, and not into mistakes. She was intimidated at first, but had gained some confidence since.

  Her first table had a man working, with pap
erwork spread around him, and laptop before him. His head was bent down in concentration. He was quickly typing, glancing down, and absently sipping water that the maître d’ had provided. The man, maybe in his early thirties, was obviously busy. He had blond hair and a suit was about all that registered with Kylie. He was a dime a dozen for her.

  Besides, most of them looked right over her. She wasn’t the pretty, hot, bouncy, talkative waitress that got hit on by the lonely, out of town businessmen. Most were polite to her because she was quiet and unobtrusive about serving them.

  She cleared her throat to let the man know she was there, a settle trick she often employed so as not to startle the often-working diners. After clicking the keyboard several more times, the man looked up. She stepped back half a step in surprise. Wow. The guy was far more handsome than the usual customers. Flustered she quickly gripped her pad of paper to center herself. She felt the heat of a blush and smiled softly to cover it. The guy had blue eyes that leveled on her and seemed to cut right through her. His intensity was disconcerting seeing as how she was there to ask him what he wanted to eat and drink.

  “Hi, my name is Kylie, can I get you started with anything?”

  Blondie watched her for a good twenty seconds. Which wasn’t long, but under his odd, compelling stare, she fidgeted and had to talk herself into staring into his face so he didn’t realize she wanted to turn and bolt. Jeez, why the third degree stare? She tapped her pen to her pad. “Sir? Did you need longer?’

  Then… wow, it was the sun coming out. Blondie smiled. From scowling and staring at her as if she were a deer he’d shot and now needed to cut into to clean, he was smiling up at her. One side of his plump lips turned up, and dimples dug into his cheeks. Blue eyes crinkled and his long, elegant face broke up from stern and unapproachable to nearly making her drop her pen and pad.

  “No, no. Sorry, I was concentrating. I didn’t even realize you’d walked up… Kylie, was it? That’s your name?”

  “Um, yes, sir.” His smile had dimmed a little and his eyebrows rose as he inquired about her name. Most didn’t care what her actual name was. She was a little surprised at the almost reverent way he checked.

  “And you wanted my drink order?”

  A small smile crept over her lips, as well as the blush that often did when anyone spoke directly to her, regardless if they were someone she found good looking. Though this obvious business man, in his well-cut dark suit with a blue shirt and dark blue tie, was not her typical type. He was very spit and polished. Not exactly a look or way of being she was used to. Even Donny, who ran his own small computer business and dressed in slacks and button-up shirts and occasionally ties, didn’t look like this guy. He was flawless. His watch, which was platinum and gold, flashed in subtle nuances just at his wrist, peeking through his cuffs. His entire look was crazy successful. He wasn’t hot like a surfer on the beach or another college student. He was handsome, polished, sophisticated. The subtle scent of cologne touched her nose. He was class and elegance, and he was smiling at her as if she were the only woman in the entire room. She burned up with his attention, even as she told herself, he was just good at this. He was the type of guy who knew how to focus on someone, anyone, even a nobody server like her, and make them feel like the most important and only existing person in a room.

  It was called charm. And it was something she distinctly lacked.

  “Y-yes, sir, if you wanted something.” She scrunched her face up when she stuttered over “yes.” Calm down, it was just a typical drink order. What was her sudden enchantment with some typical upper-class business tycoon? Dime a dozen here.

  “I’ll have a vodka tonic. Been a long day. You recommend anything for dinner… Kylie?” He’d glanced down at his menu, but lifted his head up to stare right into her eyes as he said her name. She had to work to keep the shudder that traveled her spine from showing. Damn, he was good at the seductive way he seemed to almost caress her with her own name.

  He grinned again and waited, still holding her gaze prisoner. “Uh, anything is amazing here. The, ah, special, the prime rib? It’s supposed to be world class.”

  “You don’t eat it?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t actually eat much meat. So… no.”

  “Vegetarian? Yet you serve meat?”

  “Not a vegetarian per se. I just don’t really like meat. It’s not a political statement or anything. I just don’t eat it much by choice.” Or anything else. She could almost swear she could read his thoughts when his gaze finally released hers and traveled over her bony frame. But he didn’t comment with a Maybe you should gnaw on something to add some meat to your bony bones. “All right then, what do you actually suggest then? Not what the management wants you to.”

  Kylie’s smile was quick and bright as she met his gaze with surprise he’d said that. He grinned back finally. “I used to wait tables. In college. I know how it works. That’s why I try to never piss off my waiter.”

  “I’m a college student too.” It blurted out of her without any real meaning or context. She bit the inside of her cheek. She doubted this man with his charming, dimpling, boyish yet sophisticated charm could ever piss anyone off to the point they’d do anything to his food. Or if he cared she was a student. “And I recommend the eggplant parmesan.”

  He nodded and clicked shut his padded leather menu and handed it to her without ever looking at his other choices again. “All right. Sold. Give me that. A student, huh? Where?”

  “Peterson, in town here. Have you heard of it?”

  “Yes. I’ve heard of it.”

  She took the menu from him as she tucked it behind her paper pad. “Are you staying in the hotel here?”

  She cringed. It sounded like she was inquiring for lurid reasons. He’d think she was coming onto him. Horrified, she blushed fiery hot as she mumbled quickly, “I meant… I mean, are you from out of town? Visiting Marsdale on business?”

  His tongue poked out the side of his cheek. She was sure he was holding in a smile. “No. I work just around the block. Live just a couple more past that.”

  “Oh. Right. We just get a lot of out of towners in here.” Okay, time to make her exit before she said anything even stupider, or he thought her even more amusing and annoying than he had to already find her. She turned quickly and scooted towards the bar to drop his drink order and rushed into the kitchen to get his dinner order in. She came back out and scanned her section. She needed to refill the family at table twelve’s drinks and check on their entrées. Their kids were getting antsy. She grabbed another sheet of paper and dropped it off so they could scribble on it as they’d already doodled all over the kids menu. Kids came in until about eight, often with families staying at the hotel. They were Kylie’s favorite.

  She tried to keep them supplied in bread, crayons, paper and whatever drinks they had. The family tonight thanked her after she made polite conversation with the parents and then gave the littlest girl an extra compliment on the drawing she made of what Kylie guessed was a horse. The girl squealed in delight that Kylie had gotten it right. Kylie was shocked she had too. She smiled and made her way to a lone businesswoman in her forties, and a couple in their fifties. She supplied menus, drinks, bread, refills and took orders. Then the handsome business guy’s drink was ready.

  She steeled her nerves, which were strumming oddly. Almost every night she worked, she served guys like the blond. Charming, handsome, successful, sophisticated. Why was this one getting her nervous? She didn’t think it was interest in hooking up with her. She wasn’t that girl here. Most looked over, under, and through her. Only in a party environment could she become that girl men might think about propositioning. But not here.

  “Here’s your drink. I checked on your entrée and it should be out in a few minutes. Is there anything else I can get you, sir?”

  He again lifted his gaze from his work and seemed to hold her suspended in his gaze. Wow, this guy had natural animal magnetism. He must not know what to do with t
hat and it spilled out even when he hadn’t meant for it to, like with his local, friendly waitress. He took a long drink of the vodka tonic while watching her. His throat vibrated and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Her own mouth went dry. It was like the entire sip, swallow, and setting down of his glass happened in slow motion, when in reality it was seconds. She shook her head as if to wake herself from a trance.

  “Good drink. Thank you, Kylie.”

  His voice was deep with a kind of husky tone to it, like he was crooning when he said her name. Like it was an intimate secret between them. She stepped back. “Uh, sure. You’re welcome, sir. I’ll check back.”

  She whipped around before he could say anything so she didn’t embarrass herself by having to try and converse with him.

  Finally his entrée was up. She had just delivered a table of six’s orders and was relieved to carry his light single plate. She first dropped off a refill soda and then proceeded to his table. It was getting busy in the restaurant. The piano player had started playing. It crooned through the place. She set his plate before him. His eyes watched her as he pushed his computer out of his way. “What are you studying?”

  “What?” His question came as she was just retracting her hand from setting his plate down. She was bent over his table, her head now eye level with his. The candle between them flickered over his face. Her breath caught at the way his blond hair went honey and white.

  “School? What are you in school for?”

  She shook her head as if to get the cobwebs out. Of course; in their last little interaction, she told him she went to college. “Um, social services.”