Stepbrother Takes (His Twisted Game, Book Five)

by Chloe Hawk

  STEPBROTHER TAKES (His Twisted Game, Book Five)

  By Chloe Hawk

  Copyright 2015, Chloe Hawk, all rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters are eighteen or older.

  AVERY

  It was unbearable.

  I couldn’t take standing here at this stupid photo shoot, trying to pretend everything was okay.

  I tapped my foot against the floor impatiently, counting the seconds until I could be alone with Cole again.

  Why? So you can ask him why he never mentioned he was engaged to Lucy Caro, ask him what she has to do with the man who followed you, with whatever secrets he’s hiding? He’s not going to tell you anything, and you know it.

  Could it really be a coincidence that Jeffrey had mentioned Lucy to me just an hour before she showed up at Cole’s photo shoot? Had Cole requested her to be the model for his ad? And how else was Lucy involved with Cole? There was no way Jeffrey would have mentioned her if she was just someone Cole had been involved with romantically. There had to be more to it than that.

  I blinked away the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.

  Every one of my nerves was on high alert, my body so tightly wound I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin.

  Kalia glared at me, shaking her head at the sound of my foot tapping on the hardwood floor. “Can you stop that?” she asked. “The photographer needs to concentrate.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to put up with her attitude. But before I could come up with a bratty reply, Cole came walking out of the dressing room, knocking the breath right out of me.

  He was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged his tight ass and muscular thighs. A black t-shirt under a dark grey leather jacket set off his broad shoulders and his hair had been slicked back. His eyes burned bright blue, and there was just a hint of stubble on his cheeks, giving him an air of mystery and danger.

  “Okay,” the photographer said. “Let’s get started with the shots of the two of you, then we’ll let Lucy go and we’ll shoot Cole’s solos.”

  From what I could tell, the photo shoot was part of the mega advertising blitz for Cole’s dating app. The app was a mix between Tinder and Facebook – it would show you people in your immediate area who were looking to date, but they were all friends of friends, so there was at least a little bit of a vetting process.

  The premise of the spot they were shooting was that Cole, the founder, actually used the app himself and Lucy was the girl he met.

  All of this information had been relayed to me by Kalia as soon as I came out of the bathroom. I couldn’t believe I’d been able to retain any of it.

  Lucy took her place with Cole behind the white backdrop.

  “Any instructions?’ she asked as a makeup assistant adjusted her hair around her shoulders so that it looked perfectly tousled.

  “Just go with it,” the photographer said. “We’re looking for playful, yet sexy.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Lucy said. “Will it, Cole?” She laughed and pushed her back into his chest as he slid his arms around her waist. The photographer began snapping away.

  Cole was tall and broad-shouldered, dwarfing Lucy, even though she must have been at least five-foot ten. They looked perfect together, so naturally beautiful. This was the kind of girl Cole should be with – gorgeous and successful and confident. Not someone like me, who had nothing figured out and nothing to offer.

  Stop, Avery, I told myself. It’s just acting. They’re in a photo shoot together. It’s pretend. She’s a model. She said herself that they’re not together anymore.

  It was true. Actors did this kind of thing all the time, even kissing and shooting sex scenes with each other.

  But still. Cole wasn’t really playing a role. He was playing himself. And Lucy was playing his girlfriend, and the fact that the two of them had a history I knew nothing about made it that much worse.

  Lucy was leaning into Cole now, tilting her head up to look at him as his hands encircled her tiny waist.

  “Whisper something in her ear, Cole,” the photographer instructed.

  Cole whispered something to Lucy and she laughed hard, throwing her head back like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. A hint of a smile tugged at Cole’s lips, like he was pleased with himself for having made her laugh.

  I looked away, because it was making me slightly nauseous, seeing the two of them like that.

  Kalia was standing next to me, and I saw the same look on her face – she was jealous too.

  And that was the problem. Cole could have any woman he wanted. He’d had any woman he wanted – Kalia, Lucy, and now me. It was stupid to think he would ever choose me over them (or the thousands of other beautiful women in New York), even if we had grown up together, even if we did have a history.

  I forced myself to look back at him.

  My realization about how I could never have him, not all of him, not in the way I wanted, did nothing to diminish my attraction to him. He was just as beautiful as ever.

  Cole’s eyes locked on mine, and I sucked in a breath. Electricity pulsed between us. How could you? I wanted to scream. How could you hold her like this, right in front of me, after what we did last night? How could you fail to mention you’d had a fiancé?

  .For a moment, I thought I saw something pass over his face, some kind of regret or hesitation. And then he looked away and leaned back into Lucy, turned her chin toward his the way he’d done to me just a few moments ago in his car.

  A look of contentment came over her face as the two of them stared at each other, their lips just inches apart, the chemistry between them shining so bright it was almost visible.

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I backed away slowly, moving toward the exit.

  No one noticed – they were all transfixed on what was going on between Cole and Lucy. I stepped into the elevator and took it all the way down to the lobby.

  I was leaving.

  Not just the building.

  But New York.

  ***

  I didn’t belong here.

  The city, which earlier had seemed alive and full of possibility, now suddenly felt cold and unwavering, the kind of harsh place that would chew you up and spit you out.

  I wasn’t meant to be here.

  The only reason I even was here was because of Cole. And he didn’t care about me. All he cared about was himself.

  Otherwise, he would tell me what was going on. He wouldn’t hide things from me and then sneak into my bed, all the while telling me it was wrong before doing it all over again.

  He kept saying he needed to protect me. When the truth of the matter was, all he cared about was protecting himself.

  I’d made it two blocks when I heard him calling after me.

  “Avery!”

  Don’t turn around, I told myself. Don’t turn around and let him see how upset you are.

  “Avery!” His hand was on my arm then, forcing me to turn around.

  “Don’t touch me!” I said, wrenching out of his grasp.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “Why did you just run out like that?”

  “I’m going home,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.” I turned away from him again, but this time he grabbed me around the waist with one hand, pulled me into a coffee shop and herded me over to an empty corner.

  “Okay,” he said, his tone measured, like he was talking to a mental patient and needed to tread lightly. “Now will you please tell me why you’re acting
insane?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?” I blurted. I hadn’t wanted to ask him, hadn’t wanted him to know that I even cared.

  “Who told you that?” he demanded.

  “Lucy. I ran into her in the bathroom.”

  “And that’s why you ran out of there?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t tell you everything, Avery,” he said. “Are you going to tell me about all the guys you’ve been with since I’ve been gone?” He squared his shoulders, like the thought of it made him want to beat the shit out of any guy who’d touched me.

  “No,” I said. “But if I was engaged to someone I certainly would have told you.”

  “Just like you told about hanging out with Jeffrey?” he countered.

  “That’s different.”

  “Oh, yeah? How?”

  “Because it just is.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “You brought a girl you were engaged with to a photo shoot, Cole. I had to watch you put your hands all over her.”

  “It was a photo shoot, Avery. It’s not real.”

  “It looked real to me.”

  “Do you trust me?” he demanded.

  “How can I trust you when you won’t tell me anything?”

  “There was nothing to tell!”

  “Forget it,” I said. “Cole, please, I just… ” I trailed off, tears welling up in my eyes again. I hated that he was seeing me so upset, hated even more that I actually was this upset. “I can’t do this. I thought I could live by your rules, I thought I could deal with this wall you have up, but I… I can’t.”

  “Stop,” he said. “You’re talking crazy. Go back to my apartment and wait for me there.”

  “No.” I shook my head. Going back to his apartment would be a quick fix, just a way to prolong the inevitable. He wasn’t ever going to let me in. And I wanted all of him. He hadn’t made me any promises – he’d told me this is how it would be. And I’d thought I could live with that. But it was too painful. “Please, Cole,” I said. “Please, just let me go.”

  I could tell he was fighting against his urge to control me, his urge to never let me out of his sight and protect me at all costs.

  Tell me to stay. Tell me you’ll try to let me in, tell me we’ll figure it out together.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead he just looked away.

  I pushed past him, moving toward the door.

  He didn’t call after me.

  He didn’t try to stop me.

  He didn’t want me.

  Because when you got right down to it, the truth was, he didn’t think I was worth it.

  ***

  I walked all the way to Grand Central Station. By the time I got there, my heels were biting into my toes, and the soles of my feet felt as if they’d been scraped raw.

  I had no money, and no plan for how I was going to get home.

  When I got to Grand Central, I asked a middle-aged woman wearing a belt bag if I could borrow her phone. She gave it to me, but stayed close, hovering over me, her lips pursed like she was afraid I was going to take off with it.

  I called my mom.

  As soon as she answered, I started to cry.

  “Mom,” I said. “Please, I need to come home.”

  “Oh, Avery,” she said, sighing.

  She paused for a moment, and I knew what she was doing – thinking it over, trying to figure out the price she’d have to pay to get Gordon to agree to me coming home.I held my breath. I didn’t know what I was going to do if she said no.

  But after a moment, she let out a long breath. “Fine,” she said.

  I gripped the phone tight in my hand like it was a lifeline, almost afraid to let go. “Can you wire me some money?”

  “Avery!” she said, as if she was shocked at the idea that I would ask such a thing. I didn’t blame her – I knew better than to ask for money, because usually no one in my family had any. “What do you need money for?”

  “Someone stole my purse,” I said. “I have no way to get a train ticket. I’ll pay you back.”

  “How am I supposed to get it to you?” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  “Can you Western Union it?”

  “Fine. Gordon’s not going to be happy, Avery,” she warned. “He’s very upset with you and your brother.”

  “Stepbrother,” I corrected automatically.

  She paused. “I’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up the phone.

  ***

  It took four hours for me to get the money for my ticket home. I wasn’t sure if my mom and Gordon had done it on purpose, deciding to make me wait for the money as some kind of punishment, or if it really took that long for it to go through.

  Technically you weren’t supposed to be able to pick up money without an ID, but since it was such a small amount – ten dollars – and since I’d been sitting in the lobby of the Mailboxes, Etc for hours, the man working there took pity on me and gave it to me anyway.

  Once I had my ticket and was on the train, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was leaving the city, and going back home where I belonged.

  ***

  The house was almost completely dark when I got there, and for a moment, I wondered if perhaps the electricity had been shut off, something that wasn’t uncommon when Gordon had decided to drink away whatever money had been earmarked for bills.

  But then I spotted a light shining through the window all the way in the back, where the kitchen was. It could only mean one thing – Gordon was passed out somewhere. He liked the house to be dark and quiet when he was sleeping it off. He claimed it helped his hangovers to be less severe.

  I’d always thought that was a load of crap, since I wasn’t sure Gordon even really knew what a hangover was in the first place. On the days he woke up hung over, he’d just take a shot of whiskey and pour it into his coffee, or nurse a beer while my mom rushed around the kitchen fixing him scrambled eggs and turkey sausage, his favorite breakfast after a bad bender.

  The front door was locked, and I didn’t have my key.

  So I knocked softly.

  My mom appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled, her eyes tired.

  She didn’t say anything, didn’t turn a light on or ask me what happened.

  She just put a finger to her lips as I passed by, and I nodded my understanding.

  The soft light of dusk filtered into the house, and as my mom moved past me to shut the door, the light illuminated her face.

  I gasped and put my hand to my mouth. Her lip was completely split open, swollen and angry with dried blood in the fresh wound.

  She offered no explanation, but I didn’t need one.

  The split lip was the price for me coming home.

  And my mom had been the one to pay it.

  ***

  I crept up the stairs, skipping the step at the top, the one that always squeaked. I hovered outside my room before passing by and heading for Cole’s room.

  I opened the door and moved quickly to his dresser, pawed through it until I found one of his old football t-shirts. I took it into the bathroom with me, stripped out of the dress and heels I was wearing and stood under the spray. The stream was weak and lukewarm compared to the shower in Cole’s apartment, but it got the job done, helping me to wash away this horrible day.

  When I was done, I pulled on a fresh thong and Cole’s t-shirt, then slipped into my bed.

  The house was eerily silent, and I realized I’d already gotten used to the sounds of the city filtering in from outside. I thought there was no way I’d be able to sleep, but I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow, my body’s exhaustion overriding its stress.

  I awoke a few hours later, the house still dark and quiet, except for a rustling sound off in the distance.

  I sat up in bed, my heart pounding.

  I listened, trying to hear over the whoosh of blood pulsing through my ears.

  It was coming
from Gordon’s office.

  The people who’d lived here before us had put a wall up in the middle of one of the bedrooms, sectioning it off into two small rooms. It was actually against code, and the sellers were supposed to have fixed it before we moved in.

  But Gordon told them not to – he loved the idea of having a room for all his stuff, a room separate from Cole and I, and upstairs from where he slept with my mom in the master bedroom.

  One half of the room that had been split became mine.

  The other half became Gordon’s office.

  I sat in bed now, still listening, wondering if Gordon had come upstairs. I was nervous he was going to come into my room – if he did, there would be no way for me to escape.

  I decided the best thing to do was to go downstairs and wait him out. That way, if he decided to mess with me, at least I’d have an exit strategy – I could head for the front door. And the cordless phone would be in reach in case I needed to call for help.

  The only problem was, in order to get downstairs, I’d have to pass by the office.

  I decided it was worth the risk – I’d just have to go slowly.

  I got out of bed and started making my way down the hall.

  The door to the office was open, and I sucked in a breath. Usually Gordon didn’t leave the door to his office open, instead preferring to keep it shut and locked, making it perfectly clear that no one was welcome inside. I didn’t know what he did in there, and I didn’t care to find out.

  But as I crept past, I couldn’t help but glance in.

  The place looked ransacked – the drawers to Gordon’s rusted out filing cabinet were open, the files sticking out every which way. A shadowy figure was crouched over on one side of the room, by the long folding table Gordon used as a makeshift desk.

  As I looked in, the shadowy figure stood up.

  Our eyes met across the room, and relief flooded through me.

  It wasn’t Gordon.

  It was Cole.

  He was still wearing his clothes from the photo shoot, the black t-shirt that hugged his biceps, and the soft leather jacket.