S.O.B.

by J.C. Valentine

  “Physical therapy, right?” I seem to recall my father mentioning something about it over the phone, but I wasn’t really listening. I am now, though. For some reason, I want to learn more about the woman standing in front of me.

  “That’s right.”

  Entering the kitchen, I close the distance, taking satisfaction in the way her body stiffens. Drawing back her curtain of copper colored hair, I intend to get a rise out of her, but the way my own body reacts to the slender slope of her exposed neck distracts me. My body hums as I lean in to inhale the soft, sweet scent of her perfume. “Does that mean you’re well versed in anatomy?”

  “Stop it, Levi. I know what you’re doing.”

  “What am I doing, princess?” She smells so sweet, the delicate rose scent calling me, and I can’t resist. Skimming my nose along her smooth, creamy skin, I take her into my lungs at the same time I press my growing erection into her back.

  “You’re trying to get a rise out of me.” Her chest lifts and falls heavily, and even though I think she meant her words to be an accusation, they float off her tongue almost breathlessly.

  “It’s only fair,” I drawl, lightly running a finger down the length of her spine. “Considering you’ve been giving me a rise since you got here.”

  Sucking in a scandalized breath, Vista jerks away from me. Her angry eyes shoot daggers as she stares me down. “I’m not doing this again, Levi. That’s not appropriate. I don’t want you talking to me that way anymore.”

  Leaning back against the countertop, I fold my arms across my chest and feel a smirk slide into place. “What way, princess?”

  “Like that! Telling me I give you erections. It’s sick.”

  I laugh, because it can’t be helped. “If it’s so ‘sick,’ then why does it turn you on? I’m only speaking the truth. It’s not my problem if you’re too uptight to own it.”

  “Own it?” she shouts, throwing her arms out to her sides. “Our parents are married, Levi. Married. What part of your ‘truth’ makes it okay to do...this?” Her hand waves frantically back and forth between us.

  She’s right. I know she is, because I was the one that ended “this” four years ago. The problem is, every minute I’m around her, I’m questioning the wisdom of that decision. Because you weren’t the one who made it. Instantly, memories of the past come rushing back.

  I pull on my shoes, buttoning my pants as I sneak toward the door, careful not to wake her. I can’t risk anyone finding out we’ve been together. It would ruin my father’s business. Ruin the family name he’s worked his whole life to build. The Blacks run this city. If word got out what happened here tonight...

  Well, it won’t. That’s why I’m leaving, while everyone is still asleep.

  Opening the bedroom door, I can’t help myself from looking back. After spending hours together, wrapped up in each other’s body, she’s passed out cold. I should feel ashamed for what’s happened between us, but I don’t. It’s been coming since the moment I laid eyes on her, and I can’t make myself feel guilty for something that doesn’t feel wrong.

  What I do feel guilty about, however, is sneaking off without a word. I feel like a criminal in my own home, but I have to go, and I don’t have the heart to wake her up. Not when she looks so peaceful. Tomorrow, we’ll talk. This wedding? It can’t happen. I won’t let it.

  What I feel for her means more than this farce of a marriage my father and her mother are entering into. We’ll tell them the truth, tell them everything, and they’ll see. My father will put me, his son, ahead of himself for once. In my heart, I know it’s a stretch. My father has never done an unselfish thing in his life, but I have to believe that this time will be different.

  Crossing the hallway in total silence, I carefully turn the doorknob and push open the door to my bedroom...and freeze.

  There, sitting on my bed, with his head hanging down on his shoulders and his hands clasped between his knees, is my father. He’s still dressed in the suit and tie he left for work in this morning, his dark hair slicked back off his forehead, and the smell of his Ralph Lauren cologne permeating the air.

  At the sound of me entering the room, he lifts his head and the predatory look in his stark blue eyes causes my voice to lodge in my throat.

  “You’ll end this now, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it.” He waits for me to nod my head before he pushes to his full height. Crossing the room, he pauses in front of me, staring me straight in the eyes with an eerie silence. At eighteen, I’m as tall as he is, for all intents and purposes a grown man, but the intensity in his eyes makes me shrink back.

  A satisfied smile curls one side of his mouth up, and finally, without a word spoken, he moves around me and out the door. I exhale a shuddering breath, my legs trembling as I force myself to walk over to my bed, seating myself on blankets that still harbor my father’s body heat.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” Vista’s hand waves in front of my face, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  “I’m fine,” I croak. Jesus, I sound like I’ve been crying or some shit.

  Her brows pull together in a frown and she tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Where did you go just now?”

  Shaking my head clear, I force a smile onto my face and search my mind for something to distract her. “Nowhere, princess. I’ve been here the whole time.” My legs feel shaky, so I walk back into the living room and drop down on the couch.

  “So, I’m assuming sex is off the table now?” I ask, striving to lighten the mood and create a distraction.

  “Completely.” Cautiously, Vista joins me, seating herself in a chair opposite me.

  I tip my head in acknowledgement. “For now, I’ll agree to disagree with you on that subject. In the meantime, you’re going to be servicing me,” I continue, relishing the sound of her aggravated growl. “So, we need to get you better acquainted with my work schedule.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve used that word,” she muses as she relaxes back into the chair and curls her legs beneath her.

  The position makes her appear small, fragile. It makes me want to go to her, pick her up, and carry her to my bed, caveman style. It takes all my self-control to curb the urge she inspires in me. “What, work?” I ask. Firing up my tablet, I pull up my schedule and shift it so she can see.

  Leaning forward, she squints as she reads it over. “Yeah, I didn’t think it was part of your vernacular.”

  Standing, she trades the chair for the couch, scooting closer to me so that her face is inches from mine as she looks over my shoulder and studies the screen more closely. She has an amazing profile. Long, black eyelashes fan out from her wide eyes, there’s a slight bump on the bridge of her downturned nose, leading to her full, rose petal lips and a stubborn little chin.

  She’s gorgeous.

  “I’m full of surprises, princess,” I say, hearing the dark rumble of my own voice. Her expressive eyes flicker up to mine, and I feel the heat of that look straight down to my cock. Before I grab her up and indulge in my fantasies, I turn back to the tablet and the schedule still showing on the screen.

  “I’ll send this to your email so you have a copy of it. I can’t be your babysitter, so make sure you study it.”

  She glares up at me—a reaction I’m waiting for. It stirs the desire in me even more and, still, I restrain myself. She thinks she’s done with me, but she’s only denying the inevitable. Growing up, I always got what I wanted. In that sense, I am my father’s son, and what I want now is her. All I have to do is bide my time and eventually, she’ll come.

  In more ways than one.

  14

  Heads covered in varying shades of silver turn our way as Vista and I walk into the conference room on the tenth floor of my father’s firm, Black Investments. It’s an agency of sorts that specializes in forming marketing campaigns with a focus on athletics.

  Naturally, my father recruited me early, before I’d
even entered high school. He’s a natural when it comes to speaking, and he can sell just about anything. With him at the helm, I’ve made millions. I wonder how he’ll react when I tell him I’m severing our contract and branching out on my own.

  Thankfully, my father hasn’t arrived yet. All eyes are on us, and I can just imagine what they’re thinking. They know who Vista is, and I’m sure we make quite the picture walking in here together, her body aligned with mine, my hand pressing possessively against the small of her back, me whispering in her ear. I don’t care a lick about what the old buzzards waiting for him think. They don’t cut my checks and soon, I’ll never have to look at their shriveled faces again.

  “Wait for me over there.” My hand on her back, I press a kiss to Vista’s temple then send her on her way, directing her to a seat in the corner of the room, away from the main table where I’m about to get down to business.

  Picking the chair at the far end of the table, positioned opposite the one my father will assume, I release the zipper on my leather riding jacket and sit. “Gentlemen,” I greet them. “How’s business?”

  The only answer I get is a few faint smiles, and then total silence consumes the room. These men only answer to one thing, and that’s power. Anywhere else in the world, I hold that power, but in the face of David Black, I’m no more than the gum on the bottom of their shoe.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Vista’s eye and give her wink. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink that makes me smile. I hate being in this place, but having her here makes it somewhat tolerable. At least now I have a stunning view to look at.

  Some fifteen minutes later, the door flies open and my father steps in. His black pinstriped suit and matching tie lay perfectly on his fit frame, and when he ambles across the room, the air of superiority precedes him.

  David Black’s eyes meet mine as he draws back his chair and pauses a moment to take me in. Every person in here besides me is dressed in expensive tailored suits with their hair combed back and their noses stuck in the air. I, on the other hand, am in my usual fair: jeans, t-shirt, Doc Martens, and my leather jacket. They drove here in their luxury cars and I on my motorcycle. We’re worlds apart in all aspects. My father doesn’t have to speak the words for me to know how disappointed he is in me. By now, he should expect it. I’ve never pretended to fit the mold.

  “Levi,” he says curtly as he releases the button on his suit jacket and lowers himself into the chair. “I’m glad to see you could make it.”

  “Yeah, Vista and I were in the neighborhood.”

  His gaze travels to my left, just now realizing she’s also in the room. A look of surprise flashes briefly in his eyes, but being the man he is, he covers it with a bright and welcoming smile. Only I know him well enough to recognize the strain tightening his lips and his words to razor sharpness.

  “Vista, how good to see you. Is my son forcing you to tag along on business meetings?”

  “He certainly twisted my arm,” she says, casting me a shy smile.

  I return it, knowing I didn’t have to twist very hard. The only motivation Vista needs is the promise of a job, and with David Black backing her, it’s already in the bag.

  “Well, as long as he’s not working you too hard,” he says, a thread of warning leaking into his voice.

  “So, down to business?” I ask, eager to move this thing along. I feel like Tom Cruise in The Firm. There’s just something sinister about this place that I never liked. The sooner we get out of here, the better.

  “Right.” My father snaps into business mode. With a single look, the man to his right hands over a folder that he immediately opens and begins leafing through. “I’m actually happy you brought your sister along today,” he says, emphasizing her title. The men flick judgmental looks at me, but I ignore them.

  “I see you got the cast off and you’re no longer using crutches. How is the recovery coming along?” When he doesn’t get an immediate response, he casts an expectant look across the room to Vista.

  “Oh, you mean me?” She jumps to attention, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Um, good. He’s making progress every day. I’m hoping to start him on water exercises today so we can start rebuilding—”

  “Good, so we’re on track,” he cuts her off. I clamp my jaws together, biting back the angry words I want to say. It’s fine for him to treat me that way, but disrespecting Vista digs in my craw.

  “Your rehabilitation will be complete in three weeks. You’ll be on a plane three days after that for a game scheduled that Saturday in Florida. Until then, we’ll keep you busy making appearances. Did Becca send you the revised schedule?”

  He’s floating right along, dictating everything about my life to me as if he’s the director and I’m merely a player in it. I grit my teeth, leaning back in my chair and folding my hands across my stomach before I leap out of it and cause a scene.

  “Not that I’m aware.”

  His dark brows furrow in disapproval and he makes a note on the paper in front of him. No doubt, Becca will be looking for another job by lunchtime. “The Adidas commercial went live this morning,” he rolls on. “My sources tell me that it looks set to go viral by the end of the day. If it does, and I don’t see why it won’t, we’ll set up an appearance at the expo coming up next month.

  “ESPN contacted us yesterday. They’d like to interview you for one of their morning broadcasts. I told them you’d be there.”

  I’m shaking my head before he’s finished his sentence. “No.”

  Still speaking, my father’s words cut off abruptly and his cold eyes focus like laser beams down the table. “Come again?”

  Drawing in a steeling breath, I force myself to say the words that have been circulating in my brain for months. “I’m not doing the interview. In fact, I’m not doing any of it.”

  “Levi—”

  Cutting him off, I tell him, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’m going to retire after this season.”

  He laughs, the sound nothing more than a short, condescending bark. “You’re going to retire? You’re not even twenty-five yet.”

  “I meant from the game. It’s not for me anymore. It’s not what I want to do.”

  “Screw what you want to do,” my father bellows. “You have commitments, and in this family, we honor our commitments.”

  “I didn’t commit to anything,” I remind him. He’s made my decisions for me for so long he’s stopped checking with me to make sure I’m on board. “Whatever it is, cancel it.”

  “That’s not how this business works, Levi,” he bites out. The men at the table look back and forth between us, like this is a tennis match. “Contracts have been signed. If you don’t show up, guess who gets screwed. Me!”

  “Then send me the bill.” I’ve said what I need to say and it’s clear this conversation is going nowhere fast. Reaching the end of my limits, I shove my chair back, stand up, and signal for Vista to do the same. My father watches the exchange, his face growing red.

  “If you walk out that door, I’m cutting you off. Both of you,” he snarls, his warning clear.

  Vista’s feet stop moving and her eyes widen in fear. Approaching her from behind, I let her feel the heat of my body against her back as I lean into her. “It’s okay, princess. Whatever he’s promised you, I can match it.”

  The last thing I’m going to do is let him suck her into his poisonous world. He only got this far because he’s a master manipulator. Everyone falls under his spell or gets trampled. I’ll be damned if Vista falls into either category.

  It’s one thing for me to walk away. The worst my father will do to me is write me out of his will and cut me off financially, but I have plenty of my own money. I don’t need him to stand. As shitty as he’s been to me, my father has set the world at my feet. I’d be a liar and a bastard if I claimed not to appreciate what he’s done for me. But that doesn’t mean I have to continue to allow him to abuse his station. It’s time for me to be my own man, and,
interestingly enough, it took being with Vista to realize it.

  The door slams behind us as we leave the conference room. A woman I assume is Becca steps off the elevator carrying a load of takeout bags. When she sees Vista and me approaching, she moves out of the way and greets us with such a cheery disposition that I instantly feel bad for her, because her day is about to go down the drain.

  “He was really upset,” Vista says, her voice small as we ride the elevator back down to the ground floor.

  “That’s his natural state of being.” When the doors open, I guide her out with my hand at her elbow. The need to touch her—in any small way—is becoming habitual. The feel of her on my skin is addictive and I find myself needing to be near her, to feel that connection, however little, in any way that I can. “What you saw back there was nothing. My father can be a real son of a bitch when he feels like it. Today was a good day.”

  Parking at the curb directly in front of the building, we pause in front of my bike to strap on our helmets and get situated. Vista runs her teeth over her bottom lip, a nervous habit I’m beginning to recognize as meaning that she has something on her mind that she wants to say.

  “Spit it out, princess.” Kicking my leg over the bike, I hold it steady so she can climb on.

  Only, she’s still standing on the sidewalk. “If this was a good day, then I feel sorry for you.”

  Fuck. I can tell where this is going, and I don’t want her sympathy. Scowling at the traffic flowing by, I tell her, “Don’t. I’m used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be.”

  Hearing those words causes an ache in my gut. I can’t remember the last time anyone has cared enough to…well, care. I don’t know what the hell to do or say in response, so I use the only tool I have left at my disposal—irritation. “Get on the damn bike, Vista. It’s lunchtime and I’m starving.”

  Her gaze seems to see straight through me and, unable to handle the intensity of it, I jerk my head for her to get on the damn bike already. Shaking her head, she grabs hold of my shoulders, slings her leg over the seat, and settles in behind me. I close my eyes at the feel of her soft curves melting into me.