Protection: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Wood, Vivian

  I give him a cold glare, willing my face to remain perfectly blank. I will not fucking cry. I will not fucking cry.

  “No,” I say, and it’s true. I know what he’s saying is true.

  The other thing that’s true is that I’ve let myself fall for Connor, and he doesn’t feel the same way. If he did, this would be a really, really different conversation.

  My job, our parents… that stuff is just an excuse. I know it, and I wish like hell I could bring myself to say it aloud.

  “That would be the end of your career, Elly. Everything you worked for, all that you’ve been though. Are you prepared for that?” he asks. Earlier I thought about how much I like his seriousness, but right now I fucking hate it.

  I hate that he’s stoic, I hate that he’s not feeling ripped up inside like I am. I hate that I’m in this classic girl-feels-more-than-guy scenario, that I’ve let myself get into this stupid fucking position.

  It’s not fucking fair, I think. And I hear my mom’s voice, clear as day. Life’s not fair, princess. What did you really expect?

  Not this.

  “No, I guess I’m not prepared for that,” I snap at him. “Clearly I’m not asking you to fucking get down on one knee here, Connor. I was just making conversation.”

  I’m a bad liar, and I know it. My lips tremble as I get up and start to dress myself.

  “El. Elly,” Connor says. When his hand lands on mine, I shove him away forcefully. Only he’s so much bigger than me that I just knock myself over, making my face turn red with embarrassment. “Honey, please don’t get upset.”

  “Don’t fucking call me honey,” I snarl. “And don’t call me nicknames, either. If there’s nothing between us, fine. But I want that nothing to end, right now.”

  “Elly, don’t—”

  I stand up again, buttoning up my jeans, and plaster on my best Elly Parsons, Pop Star smile.

  “Race you back to the bottom,” I say, turning and leaving him there. A knot of guilt tightens low in my belly, but I’m too weighed down with my own sadness to care.

  The tears I held back start to slip free as I break into a slow jog, working my way down the mountain. The air whips up against my face, drying my tears and keeping my secrets as I go.

  In the end, I only beat Connor to the bottom by a few minutes. When he strides up to me, carrying the backpack, he looks kind of pissed.

  Good, you should feel something, I think. Even if it’s not what I want from you.

  “Elly, we need to talk about this,” Connor says.

  I glance up at him, giving him an easy Elly smile.

  “I’m good. Can we get going? I’m chilled to the bone. Ready to hit the hay.”

  In my hotel room. Alone.

  “El—”

  “Connor,” I sigh, crossing my arms. I draw myself up, and do my best imitation of my mother at her coldest and most manipulative. “Did you or did you not just remind me that this can’t go anywhere?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Okay. I think I reserve the right to decide if and when I want to stop. And now, I want to stop. What part of that are you not getting?” I ask.

  His expression goes black. He never says it, but he’s sensitive about people acting like he’s dumb. I just found his weak spot, and already I’m jamming my thumb right in the pressure point.

  My mother would be so proud.

  “So?” I ask, tossing my hair and holding the helmet. “Can we go, already?”

  Ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I give him one more bright smile. Then I pull the helmet on and stand there with my arms crossed, cringing when I have to get on the bike and hold onto him the whole way back to the hotel.

  Still, at least he can’t see my tears as we race through the cool desert night, heading back to Phoenix.

  The thought occurs to me that I sometimes think of my life in three stages. Life Before New York. Life Before Fame.

  And recently, Life Before Connor.

  Now we’re thundering down the highway, headed back to a different part of my life. Pre-Connor life wasn’t bad, just… you know, less. Less everything.

  I guess I thought, just privately, that I might leave that Pre-Connor life behind.

  I guess I thought we’d figure out some way to make it work, even if it was in secret.

  I guess I was completely, utterly, dead fucking wrong.

  Now I’m paying the price.

  Still. I have my career. I have my tour, my fans. I have a new album to do in a few months, a lot of new experiences lined up for myself.

  That’s enough, right?

  It’ll have to be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Connor

  “In celeb gossip news, Elly Parsons has all but disappeared from the media since her recent scandal broke. She was caught in an intimate embrace with a man who’s supposed to be her own stepbrother—” a handsome blond entertainment newscaster is saying on TV.

  I frown at the screen and raise the remote to turn it off, but his redheaded lady co-star interrupts.

  “Wait, wait, Jeremy. We don’t know who the mystery man is in the photos, just that Elly was caught lip locked with some blurry-looking guy. I don’t even think this is a scandal.”

  “But you agree that if it is her own stepbrother, that would be quite another matter—”

  I turn it off with a sigh.

  We got lucky… kind of. Unfortunately, the whiff of disgrace has driven Elly even farther from me. She’s barely spoken to me in weeks; since the photos of us at the wedding surfaced last week, she hasn’t spoken a single word to me.

  I can’t figure out her reaction, but I certainly fucking hate it.

  I find Elly sitting on the couch in her suite, reading a glossy gossip magazine. Her brow is furrowed as she flips through it, no doubt looking for a hint of the scandal she still fears will break.

  Our scandal, the one where people figure out just what Elly Parsons has been doing, and who she’s been doing it with.

  Add that to the fact that everyone would know that I’d been fucking my client — we are both going to be under heavy fucking fire.

  Career-ending fire.

  Still, we can’t go on like this, just not talking. It’s beyond goddamned miserable.

  “Elly, we need to talk.”

  She looks up at me with a frown, then glances behind me.

  “Where’s Karen?” she asks.

  “You’ve had her on almost twenty four hours a day for three weeks. She’s taking a damned day off.”

  Elly arches her brows.

  “You have a lot of opinions about my staffing decisions,” she says, tossing the magazine aside.

  “How long are you going to punish me?” I ask her bluntly.

  “Connor…” she sighs, rubbing a hand across her face. “You’re not being punished.”

  “Really? You’ve all but banned me from having any direct contact with you.”

  Elly leans back on the couch and tilts her head, giving me a curious glance.

  “What would you have me do, Connor?” she asks after a beat.

  “I should still be your head bodyguard. I have the most experience, plus the sheer size to take someone down.”

  “Karen’s doing a great job.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

  She looks away, a pained flash on her face. There and gone again, before I’m even sure I saw it in the first place.

  “The tour company is going to let me drop all but one guard,” she says. “You and Bill and Lawrence will be paid in full, of course. But this is the end of the road for you guys.”

  I tense.

  “Are you insane?” I ask her. “That guy is still out there, waiting for you to be vulnerable. Don’t make it easy for him just because you and I are… uncomfortable.”

  Elly rolls her eyes. She stands and stretches, and it takes all of my willpower not to stare. Hell, not to walk over and kiss her, touch her.

  I want he
r so bad. The desire didn’t fade like I expected; actually, it only grows with each day. The more she pushes me away, the more I need her.

  I wake in the night, drenched in sweat, panic filling my bones, thinking she’s been hurt. Just dreams, so far, but there’s no way in fuck I’m going to sit back and let it happen.

  “Look, Connor. We haven’t heard from him in nearly a month. Things between you and I are strained, which is stressful for us both.” She hesitates. “Frankly, the Ravens want me to start a new relationship, get my face back on TMZ.”

  “A new relationship,” I repeat. My fists clench so hard that I’m worried I’ll break my own fingers.

  “Yeah. I mean, a fake one. I’m not really sure,” she sighs. “I don’t really have the energy for the details.”

  “Elly, this isn’t right.”

  “Well, it’s not your decision,” she says. She walks over to the kitchenette and gets a bottle of water, taking a sip.

  “Just like it wasn’t my decision when an anonymous benefactor paid for Rose’s rehab treatment? Cash, up front, including airfare to Mexico City.”

  I cross my arms.

  Elly looks at me, anger flashing in her eyes.

  “I did it for your dad and my mom,” she snaps.

  “Right. Of course,” I say.

  “Connor, what do you want from me?”

  She looks at me, meets my gaze head-on, and I feel a flash of guilt when I see that she’s hurting.

  “I want…” I trail off.

  I’ve tried to figure out some way to make this work, make things okay between us. I’ve spent a lot of sleepless nights trying to force a solution.

  Nothing, so far.

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought,” she says. “I have to go change for the show.”

  She stalks off to her bedroom. I drop onto the couch to wait.

  Somehow, this can’t be how my last week on her tour goes. I have to figure out how to make this right.

  But how, when it’s protecting her life and her reputation that’s keeping us apart?

  I glance over to the pile of her suitcases lined up on the ground near the balcony. One of them is open, a crisp new shoe box sticking out of it.

  Elly keeps all her shoes in the bedroom, though.

  I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help myself. I walk over and nudge the top off the box.

  My heart drops like a stone.

  “Jesus, Elly.”

  I grab a stack of post cards, each featuring a highly violent, graphically sexual image on one side. The other sides are filled with scrawled, cramped handwriting.

  Bitch, kill you, and cheating whore catch my eye right off the bat.

  All threats, every single line.

  That’s not all, either. There are a couple envelopes with locks of hair, and one stuffed with panties. Some of the ones that disappeared from her hotel room, if I had to put money on it

  “Elly!” I shout.

  I turn and storm into her bedroom. She’s just pulling on a white blouse, and when I walk in she covers her tits. Like I haven’t seen them, like I have done a hell of a lot more than see her tits before.

  “Connor, get out.” Her voice is flat and emotionless. Her expression is fatigued. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “You want to explain these?” I ask, holding up the post cards.

  Her eyes flash as she walks over and snatches them from my hand. She opens the drawer of her bedside table and throws them in, slams the drawer.

  “No, I don’t,” she hisses.

  “You just told me that you haven’t heard from your stalker.”

  “And I will keep saying that. It’s none of your business, Connor. Now get out.”

  “Elly, are you out of your fucking mind? This couldn’t be more my business. You’re in danger, for fuck’s sake.”

  “No. No,” she says, raising her hands, cheeks flushed with fury. “You know what? This isn’t your business at all anymore, because you’re fired.”

  “You can’t fire me for trying to protect you.”

  She turns and points at me, livid. I’ve never seen Elly shout, not really, but she screams at me at the top of her lungs.

  “I can do anything I want, Connor. You work for me. You’ve crossed the final line, and we’re done here. I’m calling Karen now, and by god I will fucking lie to her if I have to, if that’s what it takes to get you out of my face and out of my damned life.”

  I square off with her, ready to bargain.

  “Elly, what do you want? Huh? You want to go back to the way things were, to us dating in secret? You think that’s all you fucking deserve? Fine, let’s do that.”

  “Fuck you, Connor.”

  She pulls out her cell and starts dialing, and before I can stop her she’s shouting at Karen to get up here.

  “Get out before she gets here,” Elly says, holding the phone up. “Don’t make this any worse than you already have.”

  “Elly, you care for me. You want me. If you want to be together, let’s be together.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me what you want!” I demand.

  “I want to have never met you!” she roars, turning and pacing away from me. I can hear her begin to cry, and I walk over to wrap my arms around her.

  “Elly—”

  “Have you never been told no before, Connor?” Elly growls. “You think I’m some delicate, heartbroken flower. Well guess what? Nothing will ever hurt me again, because I was too fucking damaged to begin with. You can’t ruin what’s already broken to pieces.”

  “That is not true.” I give her a little shake, and she gasps. “Elly, we can work something out, I promise you.”

  “Connor, get the fuck away from her.”

  Karen’s arrived, and she is fucking pissed.

  “Fine,” I say, grinding my teeth as I release Elly and back away.

  “Get out,” Karen says. “Right now. I don’t want to fucking see your face again today, Gray.”

  Shaking my head, I look at Elly.

  “This isn’t what you want,” I tell her. “I know you, Elly. I— care for you. You care for me. We can make this work.”

  “Gray, I swear I will fucking taze you,” Karen says. The look on her face says she’s not close to kidding, either.

  “Fine. Elly, call me when you want me. Doesn’t matter when or where. I’ll come get you.”

  Elly looks at me, tears running down her face. I think for the briefest moment, I see hope and longing on her face.

  But then she shakes her head and turns away, and Karen is shoving me out of the room, slamming the door in my face.

  Damn. That isn’t how I wanted that to go, not by a fucking mile.

  How the hell have I hurt Elly bad enough to make her that fucking angry with me?

  I stalk out of her suite and straight downstairs to the bar. I’m about to signal the bartender, drown my woes in whisky, then I stop.

  I think of Rose, of my mother.

  That weakness is too close to home, too easy to get lost in. Instead, I decide to head out for dinner, clear my head.

  I can come back once Elly’s show is over, try to talk to her again.

  Offer her more, if that’s what she needs. If only I knew what the fuck she wants, I’d give it to her, I swear.

  I’ll find out. Tonight.

  That’s a promise I make for Elly, and for myself.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elly

  I stand at the makeup mirror, letting Gisella make the last minute adjustments to my glittering stage makeup. I’m done up as a shining circus performer, with bold dark eyes and bright red lips. And a shit ton of glitter, of course.

  “You okay, girl?” Gisella clucked. “You seem really pale.”

  “Just nervous about adding the aerial ropes tricks to the show tonight,” I say.

  “Stop fidgeting,” she scolds me.

  I sigh. I feel so fucking heavy, after my fight with Connor. I wish I could have a bit of time to myself, take
a break or at least a nap.

  But no. The show must go on.

  “You’re all done here. Try not to smudge it, okay?” Gisella tells me.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say, glancing up at Gisella as she brushes glitter off her hands onto the floor.

  “Yep.”

  “Do you consider yourself my friend or my employee?”

  She hesitates, and I can see her trying to decide what lie to tell me. My stomach turns before she even speaks.

  “Friend, of course,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re an idiot if you think otherwise.”

  For a second, I’m tempted to fire her. That’s how I handle problems in my life now, apparently.

  But Gisella just flashes me a fake smile and heads out of the room, and I let her go.

  I can’t really bring myself to care. Not about Gisella, not about Brad, not about the show.

  I heave a dramatic sigh just as Karen steps into the room. She eyes me in the mirror and takes the seat that Gisella just abandoned, dropping down heavily.

  “I’ve never seen so much glitter in one place. You look like Tinkerbell came on your face,” she tells me.

  I bust out laughing, as Karen intended. I can’t help it, her vulgar humor gets me every time.

  “God, fuck this day,” I say once my laughter subsides. “I need a vacation. I wanna go to the beach or something.”

  Karen gives me a look.

  “That thing with Connor… do I need to fuck him up?” she asks. Her tone is playful, but I know she means it.

  Then again, apparently I think I have very special friendships with all my employees. It’s also become apparent that I’m fairly delusional when it comes to my perception of all my personal relationships.

  “Elly?” Karen asks, patting my knee.

  “Huh? Oh. No. I mean… I’m mad at him, but it’s nothing that a little distance can’t cure.”

  A lie if I’ve ever heard one, and I can see that Karen knows it, too.