Bad Boy Boxed Set

by Whiskey, D. G.

  “Sorry. Chris. Look, I respect everything you’ve done for your family over the years. It makes for an incredible tale.”

  That set me back onto my heels as I searched his face and his tone for any trace of insincerity. I couldn’t find any, but I was on guard. Most people found nothing noble in the sorry state of my life.

  “It’s what had to be done.” I didn’t like talking about it. Especially to people like Jerry, who had money and didn’t know what it was like to go through what our family did. They were always good at feigning sympathy and compassion, but the problem was that they couldn’t relate.

  “Still, the fact you did means a lot. If it weren’t for you, then Mary might not have been able to hold things together, and we may never have met. I can’t imagine going on without her.”

  I shifted feet. This new direction of conversation was even more uncomfortable.

  They’ve only known each other for a couple months, and here he is talking like they’re soulmates.

  Still, he was well on his way to becoming my stepfather—a title that held much less meaning now I was in my twenties—and I didn’t want to make family gatherings awkward for however long they stayed together.

  “Well, Jerry, I’m not sure what you want me to say. You’re welcome?”

  He laughed. “No, I guess there’s not much to say to that. But I wanted to talk to you and get a sense of who you are. After all, you’re Mary’s son. And I want to make sure you know you have my gratitude for taking care of her ever since your dad passed away.”

  I never thought about dad except when I needed someone to blame ill fortune on. He had been a liar, a scoundrel, and a cheat. And then he’d pulled the ultimate cowardly move: killing himself and leaving his eldest son to pick up the pieces and keep the family together.

  “I couldn’t do anything else.”

  The conversation had started uncomfortable, and at this point my collar was practically itching my neck off. Jerry came across as an overly sentimental person.

  Maybe when you grow up in a normal family you’re taught to confront and deal with your feelings. Ugh.

  “Mary told me you’re still working the warehouse job you dropped out of school to pick up,” Jerry said. “If you want it, there’s a desk job at my company for you. You would have to move out here, but it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable for you and pay a lot better, to boot.”

  “A job?” That was the last thing I expected to come out of Jerry’s mouth. Was he going to speak in tongues next? “Doing what?”

  “I won’t lie to you—you don’t have the skills to start off doing more than administrative tasks and errands, but I’ll get you trained up, maybe get you out with the sales team, and you’ll contribute before you know it. What do you say?”

  Jerry smiled, no doubt expecting a flood of relief and gratitude coming his way.

  “I’ll pass,” I said.

  “You’ll… pass?”

  I took satisfaction in so thoroughly confusing the poor man.

  “An office job just isn’t my type of work.”

  He frowned. “You want to work in a warehouse for the rest of your life? You know you can’t just do manual labor forever, Christian. It’ll catch up to you and you’ll need other skills to survive.”

  “It’s Chris,” I reminded him. “And I don’t intend to. But the city is where I belong, and it’s the only spot I can make the connections to do what I want to do. I won’t move to the country to sell insurance, or whatever you guys do.”

  “They’re financial instruments,” Jerry said. “And they help people invest money in important ways.”

  It was all gibberish. “Okay, whatever. Point is, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass.”

  “If you say so,” Jerry said, bemused. “Just remember that the offer is always open, if you ever need it.”

  As I shifted, I saw a face behind him that shouldn’t have been there. My heart pounded. I didn’t think I would ever see her again.

  “Sorry, Jerry, but I have to go find my brothers. We’ll talk more later.”

  I wasn’t ready to talk to her. Not yet. I needed to think about what to say.

  This time, I would not let Leah get away.

  9

  ~ Leah ~

  “Leah!”

  Dad beckoned me. I’d put off coming in for as long as possible, squeezing as much rehearsal time in as I could before dinner.

  “Where have you been? Stephanie came in hours ago, and I know you two drove together.”

  I hadn’t had time to tell him about the audition, and despite the importance of practice, my face grew hot. His paternal disappointment always cut deep, especially because he’d given up so much for us.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Leah, it’s so nice to meet you again!” Mary swept me into an embrace, the affection throwing me off. I’d forgotten how free she was with her hugs—it had been the biggest thing I took away from our first meeting a month before.

  “Mary, you’re looking well.” It was the truth. The Mediterranean had agreed with her, giving her a dusky tan.

  The difference in Dad was even more dramatic, but it wasn’t the trip that had effected the change. It was Mary.

  Having a woman to love has helped him. He’d been alone for far too long.

  “And this is Rory, one of your soon-to-be stepbrothers,” Mary said.

  He’d been talking with Steph, but they stopped when Mary made her announcement. I placed him in his mid-teens, a few years younger than my sister. Unruly brown curls framed his face, which otherwise looked familiar in a way I couldn’t place.

  “Have we met before?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Doubt it, ‘less you come out to Brooklyn often. I’d remember if I ever saw you.”

  There was something about the voice, too. But no, not enough to ring a bell.

  “Rory is a good hockey player,” Mary said. “We’re hoping he might have what it takes to play in Canada, maybe make the NHL one day. That would be a dream come true for him. For us.”

  “Yes, that would be quite something,” Jerry said. He’d never watched a game of hockey in his life. “I want you to meet Christian, though. He’s in New York around the same area as you are. I’m sure you two could help each other out, if you ever had any troubles. He was just here.”

  He and Mary looked around, but this mysterious Christian was nowhere to be found.

  “Ah, well. Let’s start dinner, shall we? He’ll turn up when the food gets going. Young men always do.”

  There weren’t that many of us—Dad and Mary were having a small wedding. They’d decided not to have a traditional wedding party, so the rehearsal dinner was more of a chance for the two families to meet and mingle for the first time.

  Dad sat in the middle, Mary beside him. Two of her boys sat on either side and Rory sat in between Steph and I on the other side. That left one empty chair beside me for Mary’s oldest, Christian.

  “I take it this seat is mine?”

  That voice!

  I whirled.

  It can’t be.

  My face grew hot, then ice cold as it drained of blood. When the illusion didn’t fade and he remained standing there with that smirk on his face, mine grew flushed again.

  “Do you mind?” He sat down and held out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

  Those eyes stared into mine. The last time I’d seen them, they’d been locked onto my own while I felt their owner pump his seed deep into my belly, both of us caught in a maelstrom of orgasmic bliss.

  Come on, Leah, do something. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Could only remember the way his body had felt pressed against mine as we danced naked to the pulsing music in his apartment.

  We sat in our own corner of the world, and time had stopped.

  Abruptly, all the sounds of conversation around us caught up to me, and I became painfully conscious of how awkward our interaction would appear to anyone watching. He was tr
ying to make it seem like we’d never met before.

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I’m Leah. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He didn’t let my hand go, held it fast in his own.

  “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Dear God.

  That rough voice shook me to the core. Gave me flashbacks. Made me think of things I shouldn’t be thinking while sitting at the table with our families.

  Only then did it hit me. “We’ll be stepsiblings?” It came out in a squeak. Nobody else had better be paying attention.

  “That’s right,” Dad said. I groaned inwardly. “We’re all going to be one big, happy family, and I’m so glad everyone is getting along already.”

  I turned back to the table and buried my face in the dinner menu. There were so many things I wanted to say to the man whose presence was a miniature sun warming my entire left side, but I couldn’t say a single one in front of anyone else from the families. Like how crazy this was.

  Like how for all I knew, I might end up pregnant with his child.

  The waitress came and took orders. Thankfully, Dad ordered a couple bottles of wine; I knew how much it would irk Steph that she wasn’t old enough to have any. I had already gulped a glass down by the time dad raised his for a toast, and I had to reach for the bottle to refill.

  Chris grabbed for it at the same time. My hand closed on it a shade too late, coming to a rest on his.

  “Allow me,” he said. It was like he was trying to do everything possible to annoy me.

  “Fine.”

  He splashed the chardonnay into my glass, then topped up his own.

  Dad cleared his throat, giving me a warning look.

  “Thanks,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.

  “We are lucky to have all of us here together for the first time. Some of you I’ve only met today, and I hope this will be the start of a long and mutually respectful relationship. I know my daughters will be ecstatic to have brothers to get annoyed at.” His voice was dry. It was almost enough to make me laugh, but I was too tense. Steph’s titter filled the expectant silence. “Here’s to family.”

  We echoed the sentiment and glasses clinked.

  “So, Leah, I hear that you are in Manhattan as well, is that right?” Chris asked. “Go out to any bars in the area? I found this interesting place called Swim last night.”

  I choked on my wine. He needed a swift kick to the shins underneath the table. That was a thing sisters did, right?

  “Is that right?” I said. “You know, now you mention it, I think I’ve heard of it. I may even have been there once or twice, but I doubt anything memorable happened.”

  We made it through the dinner without incident, although Chris kept poking and prodding.

  It’s almost like he wants me to flip out and lose my cool.

  Then, halfway through dessert, I felt it. A hand settled on my thigh underneath the tablecloth, hidden from the eyes of our family.

  My eyes fluttered closed and my body grew inflamed, wanting, needing that hand to slide up along my thigh.

  Shocked, I came to my senses.

  I pushed my chair back, scraping it along the floor. Chris’ hand dropped away as I stood up.

  Everyone looked at me.

  “I, uh, need to get back to rehearsing. I’ll see everyone in the morning.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and chat?” Dad asked.

  I had already turned and started to walk away. “No, thanks,” I called over my shoulder.

  It felt like running away.

  10

  ~ Chris ~

  Conflict roared within me.

  Being that close to Leah for all of dinner had reaffirmed one thing—I needed her. No one had ever made me feel like that just by sitting beside me. She was a shining beacon through the darkness, a promise of change and a breath of fresh air.

  There was only one problem: she would also be my step sister in a day.

  It was wrong. So wrong.

  With surprise, I found that the carpet hadn’t worn away beneath my feet from the relentless pacing I’d been doing since dinner. Shortly after Leah escaped I’d excused myself, unable to focus on the mundane conversations the rest of the family was having.

  Why did it have to be her?

  There was another problem. She must not feel the same way I did. She’d been so cold through dinner, and I couldn’t forget that she had given me a fake number after the incredible night we had spent together.

  Room 308.

  The number had been haunting me ever since I got her room number from her sister—our sister. It was just two doors down the hallway. Stopping dead in my tracks for the first time in over an hour, the soft sounds of speaking filtered through the walls, although it could have been my imagination.

  Fuck this.

  I growled and flung open the door to the hallway.

  “Oh!” An older woman had been walking by the door and jumped, startled. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. It was hard to tone down the intensity I knew must be present in my eyes.

  The elderly lady carried on her way, and I marched down the hall a mere fifteen steps.

  Room 308.

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I raised my fist and knocked.

  And waited.

  Maybe she isn’t in her room. Or maybe she saw me through the peephole and didn’t want to even tell me to go away.

  I turned to go just as the handle turned.

  God, she’s gorgeous.

  “Can I help you? I’m busy.” The words came out clipped, tempered. She didn’t want me to be there.

  I didn’t give her the choice as I brushed by her and into her room. It was the same as mine, but I looked around as if interested.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. The door swung closed behind her as the handle slipped from her delicate fingers. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  I shouldn’t. It was dangerous, being behind a closed door with her. The air between us hummed.

  “I wanted to talk to you. I didn’t get a chance this morning, and we couldn’t talk about what happened during dinner.”

  She took a deep breath and looked out the window. It was a warm summer night in the country, the stars coming out in a shimmering blanket across the night sky.

  “Nothing happened last night. Or this morning.”

  I stared at her, but she refused to meet my eyes.

  “Is that what you’re going with? There’s no one else here, Leah. We can talk about it.”

  “What’s there to talk about? We had a mistake. A couple of them, if you’ll recall. It can never happen again, and we shouldn’t talk about it. Ever.”

  She’d leaned against the wall, and I took another couple of steps closer until only a few inches separated us. She had nowhere to back up to, couldn’t do anything but look up at me.

  “I can’t accept that.”

  Her eyes flickered to my lips and back up, and her own mouth parted. “You’re going to have to.” Her voice was soft, weak.

  I put my hand on the wall right beside her head. It would be so easy to lean down, to capture those lips, to recreate the magic we had between us.

  “I can’t.”

  For a second, I thought she would close the distance and kiss me.

  Her hands came up against my chest and gave me a hard shove. I wasn’t expecting it and I overbalanced, toppling backward onto the bed.

  “We can’t, Chris. Our parents are getting married in the morning, for fuck’s sake. How do you think they would take it if they found out their offspring are having sex?”

  Glorious, wonderful, incredible sex.

  “They wouldn’t have to know, Leah. They don’t even live anywhere near us. There’s no reason for them to find out.”

  Her breath came out shuddery, filled with emotion. “This can’t happen, Chris. Yes, the sex was great. But you are not the right guy for me. You’re dangerous. I can’t get involv
ed with you. It wouldn’t be good for me.”

  So, that’s what it was.

  Once again, my circumstances conspired to keep me down and prevent me from attaining the life I wanted to lead. Would I never become more than a warehouse worker running around with a rough crew?

  “You don’t even know me.” There were so many layers to the words I spoke.

  “I know enough, and I don’t need to know any more.”

  I stood up again and put my arms around her. “Give it a chance, Leah. This can be something great. I know it can.”

  I tried to kiss her.

  She slapped me.

  I stepped back in shock and she went to the door and opened it. “Get out, Chris. Get out and don’t talk to me again.”

  Her breaths were heavy and murder was in her eyes.

  “That will be hard to do at our parents’ wedding.”

  She stamped her foot.

  “Just. Go.”

  11

  ~ Leah ~

  Dammit.

  The line at the Starbucks was longer than I’d hoped. I’d lost track of time, and this was my reward for coming when everyone was getting off work. I’d planned for a short coffee run to break up the rehearsing, but it would take more of my precious time than I could afford. I could feel the sands of time dropping in their hourglass, counting down the hours to the audition tomorrow night.

  “Imagine seeing you here.”

  My stomach dropped.

  How does this keep happening?

  I turned, and sure enough, Chris stood there, muscled forearms crossed. Several tattoos covered the skin and traveled up to his biceps. I’d seen the artwork that decorated his body, ran my hands along it while caught in the throes of passion. Every time I saw them, it blasted me with heat.

  “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  With my head held high, I turned back to face toward the register.

  “You mean you’ll stand there and just ignore me for the next twenty minutes? Because that’s how long it’ll take us to get through this line.”