Controlling Interests: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 2)

by Lana Grayson

  And so I lied.

  “It will be done soon.”

  “And you’re sure you’ll get this heir?” Bryant’s voice bore no sympathy for the woman expected to carry the child. “It will be a Bennett?”

  “Yes, it will be a Bennett.”

  “But what if she doesn’t get pregnant?” He abandoned his coffee.

  My pulse quickened. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Any number of reasons—maybe she escapes.”

  “Impossible,” my father said.

  “I see no other option to save this company if we don’t have a Bennett in her belly by the end of this year,” Bryant said. “Hell, by the end of the summer.”

  My father shrugged. “We have contingencies to make her conceive.”

  Bryant waited. He expected me to answer. I hated that it had been my own idea.

  “We’re…taking her every day,” I said. “To ensure we don’t miss any fertile times.”

  “Excellent.”

  “We’ve worked far too hard and too long to lose the company now,” my father said. “My son understands what we need to do. When Sarah Atwood conceives, we’ll secure Atwood Industries, and the trust she’s inheriting will be forgotten. The alliance with the Atwoods will make us more profitable than ever, and my son—” He patted my shoulder. “His legacy will be secured.”

  Bryant stood with a grin. “Well, good luck, Nick. Here’s hoping to some happy news in the coming months.” He pointed to Darius. “Looking forward to the barbecue. Tell me I’ll get to meet this little lady of ours.”

  “She’ll be the guest of honor.”

  Son of a bitch. Wasn’t it enough we kidnapped her? Did he seriously think we could shuffle her between guests at the annual fucking barbecue? No one had that much control over Sarah Atwood.

  My father’s selected partners shuffled from the room, questioning how soon they could get to the club before tee-off. My blood chilled, pumping fractured ice through my chest. The tightness would destroy me.

  Was this how she felt when she was scared?

  When I tied her to the bed?

  When I threatened her to conceive a child?

  Christ, the only thing that could save her now was the very thing my father and the company wanted most.

  What I wanted most.

  I was no different from the cackling men discussing an innocent girl’s future. They coveted money while I desired nothing more than absolute control of her body, mind, and soul.

  And I had it.

  My father wasn’t the only danger. I couldn’t protect Sarah if I craved the same things.

  Only a monster lusted for such power over an innocent girl.

  And only a Bennett would succeed in claiming her.

  If my father didn’t damn us all by revealing our plans to men loyal to money over blood. I slammed my laptop closed. He watched me with baited amusement.

  “Nicholas.”

  He thought he could speak to me.

  Every decision this family made, every crime, every life we ruined, was because of him. I learned from my beatings, I earned my fortune, and I did everything he ordered to grow into a creature more demon than man.

  But he wasn’t going to hurt her. Not ever again.

  “You told the board we kidnapped and raped Sarah Atwood,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to go to jail?”

  “Do you want to lose the company?”

  “What if she talks?”

  “Cut out her tongue.”

  I exhaled. “What if the board talks? Those are expensive tongues.”

  “Why would they jeopardize such a fantastic opportunity?” He buttoned his suit. “You have a lot of work to do, Nicholas. Your sister won’t resist us forever. We’ll break her and secure our fortunes as she bears the next generation of Bennett.”

  “Or else?”

  “Or else what?”

  “If she doesn’t conceive?”

  “That’s up to you, son. You can watch the company fall, our family crumble, and fail to avenge your mother’s death…”

  Goddamn it.

  “…Or you can pull the trigger yourself. Nothing stopping you now, of course. I simply imagined Sarah Atwood would rather be raped and left alive than shot dead in her prime.”

  Son of a bitch. “If this is brought to light—if they say anything to anyone—we’re ruined. Sarah will be gone, we’ll be jailed, and we’ll lose everything regardless of how many men fuck the girl.”

  My father stood. “Or, we’ll be richer and more powerful than ever, and justice over the Atwoods will be served.”

  This wasn’t about vengeance for Mark Atwood’s crimes, and it wasn’t for the money. My father trapped Sarah Atwood because life and chance toyed with her fate. She lost everything when her family died, and I lost myself chasing her, holding her, loving her.

  I turned to leave, texting the pilot so I could return to the one who needed more than my money and family name.

  My father called to me, his voice a dark threat.

  “I know, Nicholas.”

  I stopped.

  “Did you think you’d hide it?”

  Damn it.

  Sarah.

  I revealed everything I felt for her when I attacked him in a blind rage. How could we have been so careless? She slept in my bed, looked to me when frightened, and only uncoiled her hand from the carving knife aimed for my father’s neck when I called to her.

  My devotion to Sarah Atwood would damn her.

  He knew.

  And he tortured me in front of the board to prove his power over all of us.

  “Nicholas, you aren’t as powerful as you think. Not yet.” His scowl clipped his words. “This is how you challenge me? I raised you. Molded you. I made you the man you are.”

  “So you’ve taken the blame?”

  He snorted. “I expected this from your brothers, not you. I thought you’d understand. I hoped you would join me, so we could secure our future together.”

  “You were wrong.”

  “This complicates things, Nicholas.”

  His steps clipped hollow against the thin carpet. He drew too close.

  “I expect you to protect this family,” he said.

  “I’m protecting the one who matters.”

  My father laughed. “And when the takeover fails? When the stockholders sense the derision within our fold? You don’t have a majority, Nicholas. You never did. You never will.” He stepped closer. “Every moment you spend chasing the impossible will only ruin you for the future. This takeover will never succeed.”

  Jesus Christ.

  The takeover.

  The surge of awareness chilled me, head to toe. It was never about Sarah. The girl was his obsession, but she was a toy to him. A woman to breed and a source of entertainment when he was bored.

  My head pounded. I was reckless.

  The realization bled from me as though the flogger turned on my skin. Every plan, every freedom I promised Sarah—

  Gone.

  He knew about the takeover. He knew more about the takeover than I did. And he could stop it.

  I said nothing. He sighed.

  “Never mind, son.” His voice hardly warmed, but it gentled for me. Only me. “I was your age when I began to challenge my father.”

  He expected a response. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “But do you know the difference between you and me?”

  “There’s many.”

  “Not as many as you would think,” he said. “However, one is most important.”

  I stilled as he leaned close, patting my shoulder.

  “Son, when I confronted my father, I was strong enough to win.”

  Mom set the baby in my arms. He didn’t look like a book. Why did she call him Read?

  “This is your new brother,” Dad said.

  I shoved at Max as he pinched me. “I don’t need another brother.”

  “Family is important, Nicholas.” Dad
patted my shoulder. “One day, you’ll be in charge of your brothers. They’ll look up to you, and you’ll have to do what’s best for them.”

  “I don’t want a brother. Why can’t I have a sister?”

  “Maybe in a few years.” Mom shushed the baby when he started to fuss. Max pawed at her too, but Dad pushed him away. “Let’s enjoy your new brother for now. He looks so like you.”

  Not really. He was just a wrinkly little thing—all chunky and pasty.

  “I guess. Don’t know why people want babies anyway.”

  Dad frowned. “Babies are very important, son. You’ll need to have a baby one day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a Bennett, and your sons will carry on the family name.”

  “Make Max do it.”

  Dad chuckled. “You’re the eldest, Nicholas. It’s up to you. But you’ll understand when you’re older. Trust me.”

  If he said so.

  My father used Sarah Atwood to control me.

  He didn’t realize the depth of my feelings for her, but he had yet to forgive my initial protest against breeding the girl, and the takeover confirmed my hesitance to commit the apparent crime.

  My taking of Sarah was no longer a sin, but it would damn us just the same. My father wasn’t threatened by my plans to succeed him. He rose to the challenge.

  And he chose to punish Sarah instead of me.

  She had warmed with pleasure then paled with quiet fear. I embraced her to get close and coil a fist in her hair. She surrendered to my kiss only so I could muffle her cries.

  I whispered for her to trust me while clipping a leash around her delicate neck.

  The collar choked her, but she endured the humiliation. Her resilience amazed me, but she couldn’t fight every monster that awaited her. She depended on me.

  I promised her safety only to deliver her to my father’s den.

  My father awaited us behind his desk, requesting Max and Reed’s presence as well. Had the estate not swarmed with caterers and waiters, landscapers and party planners in preparation for our annual barbecue, I would have feared for Sarah’s safety. I loathed how easily I could imagine my father’s chosen tortures, but I was wrong to assume he’d physically hurt her. I underestimated his cruelty. He’d break her without a single touch.

  And he’d make me stand in silence as he did it.

  He didn’t end his phone call, but he motioned for me to contain her. Max seized her leash, and Reed closed the door.

  At least she wore clothes this time, though the sweet, sunshine yellow sundress bound her more effectively than any length of chain. I didn’t trust her to stay quiet, and my heart ached as she fought against my hold over her body and hand muffling her protests.

  Whatever my father planned amused him beyond even the excitement he took from beating tears from the girl. He continued his conversation and admired the dress he picked for Sarah. His eyes lingered on her curves.

  Christ, I presented her to him.

  And then I understood why.

  “I’ll come down this weekend, Bethany. We’ll take a trip to the coast. You love the ocean so much.”

  He spoke to his new wife, to Sarah’s mother, and no good would come from the conversation. Sarah tensed, sparking like metal striking metal. Despite my hold on her, Max’s released flogger, and Reed blocking the door, Sarah didn’t fear a punishment for running.

  Not when she fought to rush toward my father.

  “I miss you too, darling, but I’ve been busy lately. So many new…” He licked his lips and studied our captive. “Business opportunities.”

  He threatened her but taunted me. I tightened my hold across her lips. She didn’t try to speak, but she caused enough trouble without words. Her nails dug into my arm. She might have fretted for her mother, but I met Max’s gaze with the same momentary confusion.

  I didn’t recognize the disturbing softness in my father’s voice. His tone rounded, leisurely and mellowed, probably to benefit Bethany’s fragile state, shaded with anti-depressants and the prescribed medications she abused to survive the day. He didn’t condescend. It felt…authentic. My father tried not to upset Bethany, though he captured and molested her daughter, ordering her repeated rape to deliberately impregnate the girl.

  Sarah bristled as he placed the call on speakerphone.

  “We’re holding our annual barbecue for a few of my business associates today, Bethany.”

  Sarah strained to edge closer to the phone, desperate to hear her mother’s voice.

  That, I understood.

  “A barbecue?” Bethany’s exhaustion infected her enthusiasm. “That’s nice.”

  “It will be a special occasion,” he said. “Sarah’s graciously agreed to help hostess.”

  I held Sarah tighter. Her mother hesitated.

  “…Who?”

  Sarah no longer fought against my hold. Without my support, she’d have crumbled to the floor.

  This wasn’t part of my father’s plan. He frowned, leaning closer to the phone console. “Sarah, darling. Sarah’s still here.”

  Reed whistled, earning a frustrated grunt from Max.

  The connection crackled, but Bethany lightly chuckled, lucid once more. “Oh, Sarah’s so bright at a party. Sociable. She’ll make you proud, Darius.”

  “Always has.”

  “Put her on the phone?”

  My father faked his apology. “She’s tied up at the moment, darling. But I’ll call you after the party and schedule our weekend. You should get some rest.”

  “I do miss her.”

  “And I know she misses you,” he said. “She’d do just anything to see you. Soon enough, if everything goes to plan.”

  The conversation ended with an oddly sincere exchange of affection. Sarah trembled with rage.

  Son of a bitch.

  My father didn’t strike her, but a beating might have been kinder. What better way to control Sarah in public? Bruises revealed too much, but destroying her pride and twisting her mind?

  He didn’t have to make her bleed to tear her heart out.

  My father stilled. “You do wish to see your mother again, right, my dear?”

  Sarah didn’t answer.

  “The men attending this luncheon are family friends and business partners. You will be cordial. You will be entertaining. You will behave.” His gaze settled on me. “Wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself, would you?”

  He neither expected a reaction nor did I offer him the satisfaction. He waved a hand.

  “Don’t leave her unattended today. If she speaks out of turn, drag her into the house and beat her, but not where anyone will see the strikes.”

  Like the villains we were, my brothers and I agreed.

  “Sarah, if you want your mother to survive this weekend, you’ll be a good girl. You’re my sweet daughter, visiting your big brothers after that terrible asthma attack. You do as they say, and you make me proud.” He grinned. Her silence amused him. “Give Daddy a nod.”

  Sarah refused as though the motion would snap her neck. I forced the movement.

  “Good. Now, go walk through the property. Make sure the grounds are fit for our guests.”

  I hauled Sarah upstairs, and, for the first time, locked her within her bedroom. She swore at me from beyond the door, but I’d preferred her angry with me. I wasn’t chancing any impetuous revenge on my father for either the attempted attack or his threats against her mother.

  My brothers and I did as he instructed, heading outside to oversee the barbecue’s setup.

  “I used to like having this party.” Reed checked the caterer’s schedules. “Lot more fun when you aren’t in charge of it, and when you don’t have to carve up the guest of honor like the ribs.”

  I agreed but remained silent. Today’s hell would be a far different experience from the parties we had as children—the one time we were permitted to laugh, play, and rough-house with the other kids. After Mom’s death, the barbecue became a stic
ky and boring event in the summer heat, stuck in tailored suits and attached to my father’s side as an awkward adolescent. The past few years offered entertainment, at least. Good food, pleasant conversation, and a chance to interact with them men I hoped would lead me against my father and change the course of the Bennett Corporation.

  That opportunity was lost before my father gave the welcoming toast.

  I surveyed the grounds for the perfection my father expected in the minutes before the guests were scheduled to arrive for lunch. The caterers set their smokers on the far edge of the property, tinging the garden with the salty-sweet temptation of tenderizing meat. The planners wove thousands of white LEDs into the half acre of rose bushes, and flowers framed the linen-stripped tables, crisp white tents, and the two dozen chairs prepared for an annual display of Bennett hospitality, cordiality, and raw decadence.

  We impressed the same people, courted the same money, and served the same end goal—success.

  Only this time, our lives would depend on the behavior of the tiny Atwood threatened into silence. Sarah didn’t need a weapon to destroy the family, not when a single scream would echo louder than a shotgun.

  “Greet the guests once they arrive.” I instructed Reed. “But Sarah doesn’t leave my side. Our father doesn’t touch her, and she doesn’t talk to anyone on the board alone.”

  Reed frowned. “But—”

  “Don’t let them near her.”

  Max didn’t like his orders. “It’s trouble enough having an Atwood at a Bennett Corp picnic, but she can’t deliberately ignore the investors. There’s enough bad blood without causing more trouble.”

  More trouble than he realized. “It’ll be safer for Sarah if she’s kept away.”

  “What the hell is going on? You aren’t telling us something.”

  He was right. I hadn’t told them of the encounter with the board or my father’s knowledge of the takeover, and I wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until I knew exactly what was happening. Not until I had assurances they wouldn’t be harmed. If I revealed the board’s conspiracy, Reed might have stayed calm, but Max?

  His greatest inheritance was our father’s temper. If he learned the board threatened him and Sarah, we’d be washed in blood—and most of it would belong to him.