Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance

by Nenia Campbell

  “Neat.” Jay rubbed absently at the back of her hand.

  “I didn't forget about you, Justine,” his father said, which made her fingers jerk. “But they didn't have anything that would appeal to your niche tastes. It's a shame you don't wear the jewelry you're given. There are women who can only dream of having wrists like yours.”

  Jay's mother stopped admiring the bracelet to glare at Jay, who put her hands in her lap. “Jay,” she said. “Stop slouching. Sit up straight or you'll pinch your diaphragm.”

  “Can I be excused?”

  “You may,” his father said. “Don't bother with the dishes. Yelena will get them.”

  Jay ignored him, picking up the dishes and emptying the uneaten remains into the green waste before popping them into the dishwasher. They all heard it slam shut before she slipped out. “Perhaps she's upset about something,” his father said thoughtfully. “A boy, perhaps.”

  “I don't know what's going through her head,” said Danielle. “She's so moody.”

  Nick slipped away while his parents talked, but he was aware of his father watching him leave. He stopped by his own room to get the bag before going to her door, which was closed. When he knocked, he heard her voice say, hesitantly, “Yes? Who is it?”

  “It's me,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  Nick heard the sound of the lock as the door swung open. Her hair was gathered in a ponytail and she had swapped out her shorts for track pants. She looked beautiful.

  Wordlessly, she pushed the door open wider for him to enter.

  Her cat was asleep in its basket, clutching a toy in slumber. Her collection of rocks was still on top of her bookcase and stacks of CDs were cluttered on her desk. Artists he didn't know. Corrine Bailey Rae, Frou Frou, Jewel, and Jem on the top. Beneath those, but not dusty either, were Souls of Mischief, Usher, and Nas. She kept her room neat. Everything was put away.

  Nick glanced at Jay, who was shifting from foot to foot.

  “What do you want?” she asked, not unkindly.

  “I got you a present in Nevada. I didn't want to give it to you at dinner.”

  Her dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Thank you. But, uh, why?”

  “I'm going to college,” he said. “It'll be something to remember me by when I'm gone.”

  “God, Nick. That makes it sound like you're dying.” Jay accepted the bag from him and began carefully peeling the tissue paper away. She always did that. It had driven him insane when he was younger. Just open it, he had wanted to shout at her. Why are you torturing us by drawing it out? Now he found himself wondering how it would feel to have those careful fingers dancing along the skin of his throat as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

  There was something to be said for torture.

  “Oh,” she said again, hefting the stone out of the bag. “Wow. What is it? Is it a statue?”

  “You don't know what it is?”

  “No.” She frowned. “Should I?”

  “It's a gypsum rose,” he said. “A stone found out in the desert. You named your cat after it.”

  “Oh.” There was a hidden shard of enthusiasm buried in the exclamation. “That's amazing.”

  She likes it. “I thought you'd like it.”

  “I do. Where did you get it?”

  “In a pawn shop,” he said cagily. “They had lots of weird things people pawned to pay for gambling. I didn't think you'd want a Cartier bracelet or a purse.”

  “This is really, really thoughtful.” She went to her bookshelf and began moving some of the stones aside to make room for the gypsum. “Thank you so much, Nick. I love it.”

  She turned and he saw her eyes flare in surprise at how close he was standing to her, the pupils wide and dark. For a moment, she had the same trapped look that she'd had outside the kitchen, but then she stepped forward and carefully hugged him. He was wearing an old band T-shirt and the weight of her breasts against the thin cotton made him draw in a breath. She's so soft, he thought, putting a hand on the small of her back. She smells like apples.

  “Jay,” he said harshly, and she stiffened as his hand slid down the grooves of her spine.

  “Thank you for the gypsum.” She stepped back from him, eyes sliding away. “I should—”

  “I'm in love with you.”

  Jay sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “You heard me.” Nick folded his arms. “I love you.”

  “But you—” Jay flinched, looking up at him as if only just realizing how tall he was. He saw the muscles in her throat work, tissue-thin beneath the skin. He wanted to kiss her there, in that soft hollow beneath her ear. Kiss her hard enough to leave a mark. “Nick,” she said at last, in a slow, careful voice he didn't care for, “you're only eighteen.”

  “So? I'm legal. I'm not a virgin anymore,” he added carelessly. “In case you're worried about despoiling me.”

  “You're my brother.”

  “No. I'm your stepbrother. We're not blood relatives. And to be honest,” he said, taking a step closer that had her skittering away from the bookshelf, “living under the same roof kind of does it for me. It's so much easier.” He paused. “Kinkier.”

  Jay fell on her mattress. “I need you to go now.”

  “It's not just about the sex,” Nick went on quickly, walking towards her bed. “You're all the shit that other girls are supposed to be but aren't. You're sweet and charming and caring and smart. All of it—and I love it.” He crouched, cupping her face in his hands. “I love you. And I want you so fucking bad I really can't stand it, Jay. I think about you at night.”

  “Oh my God,” Jay said faintly. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, pulling back. “Nick, please stop. This can't happen.”

  “Why not? Is it because you don't want me?” Nick let her move his hands away. “Or is it because you're afraid to fuck me? Do you think it'll hurt? I wouldn't hurt you. Or do you think it's wrong?” he demanded abruptly. “It isn't. I looked it up and it's perfectly legal to f—”

  “Nick.” She had gone white. “Stop. No. I'm saying no.”

  “No,” he repeated, staring at her. “Why, no? You owe me that much.”

  Jay rose from her bed. That shattered expression was still on her face but now she looked angry.

  “I don't owe you anything. Me being under your roof doesn't automatically make me available for your . . . pleasure and I'm really sorry to hear that our relationship has just been that to you, because it was never that to me. I thought things were different. That you were different.” Her eyes slid to the bookshelf and she let out a breath. “I thought you were different from your dad. I thought you were actually capable of being kind instead of—”

  “Instead of what?” he barked.

  “Instead of trying to buy people,” she said. “As if they're things.”

  “God, you sound so naive right now. What do you think your fucking mother does, huh? You think she has problems with being bought? I really don't think it's the end of the world you seem to think it is.”

  “Get out,” she said, in a breathless, angry voice.

  “Unlike you, I know how the world works and it's not nice, and it's not kind. You could be drowning in a room full of people and all they'd do is lean over and spit in the water. It's a fuck or get-fucked world out there, and if you don't see that, it's because you're the one being bent over.”

  “That's a horrible thing to say to me.” Jay blinked and looked away. “That's your problem. You're so entitled, you think everyone just exists to serve you. That there aren't any consequences for what you do. If you can't get something from someone, it's like—it's like they aren't even real to you. You want to know why I'm not attracted to you, Nick? It's because of your personality. No matter how many times you take your shirt off, the way you talk about anyone you consider beneath you is still really, really gross to me, and you don't even seem to care how you sound and it's just . . . such a waste. You are such a waste,” she added bitterly. “You could do so much good with what you ha
ve and you don't, and I just want you to leave.”

  “Really,” Nick said, in a tone of deathly calm. “Is that what you think? I'm just a waste of space to you?”

  “That's not what I said.”

  “But it's what you mean. You think you're better than me, Jay? Is that what this is? Do you think you're some kind of fucking saint? I know a few things about you that could raise some eyebrows. You're not the perfect little angel that everyone thinks you are. I know you can be bad, too.”

  “Stop it.” She raised her voice, trying to speak over him. “I never said—”

  “Shut up, Jay. Shut up and listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once. Nobody gets to make a fool out of me—not even you. Enjoy the victory. Fucking savor it. Because one day, I'm going to come into my own, and then I'll have power and you'll still be you. We'll see how the scales tip then because I'm not going to forget this. I'm going to bring you to your knees.”

  The sadness dripped out of her eyes, leaving them cold. “Get out of my room.”

  “To your knees,” he repeated, stabbing a finger at her chest that had her falling back against her bed.

  And then he whirled out of her room and the door slammed behind him, echoed by his heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  2008

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  After her confrontation with Nick, Jay threw herself into the task of finding a job. She downloaded a template for her resume and made sure it was up to date, padding her meager college positions until her stint as a cashier and a waitress made her look like a plucky restaurateur who excelled at middle management. She read and reread it, sending a copy each to Cori and Jessi to look over and read.

  I'd hire you in a heartbeat, Jessi wrote back immediately. And Cori, several hours later, said, YOU GET THAT JOB.

  Their enthusiasm made Jay feel a tiny bit better, so she applied to a whole bunch of positions nearby, including a couple she wasn't interested in at all, figuring that maybe a quarter of them would call her back at least, and of those, maybe three or four would be genuinely appealing.

  Nothing happened, though. None of the places called her back, not even the ones she'd thought she was overqualified for, like receptionist for a local daycare, which stung.

  It was like nobody even wanted to give her the time of day.

  Maybe try name-dropping your stepfather more. He still has most of this town in his pocket.

  Jay shivered and her stomach went hard and tight as she remembered the weight of his hand on her bare knee. The careless way he'd grazed her breasts when plucking up her necklace.

  I am sure you would rather have me as your ally than your enemy.

  The comment he'd made about her wrists made her want to throw up. No way was she turning to Damon for help. It sickened her that Quentin would even suggest it, that he thought she was the type of girl who would run right to a man whenever things got hard.

  But Nick had implied the same thing.

  Jay couldn't believe Nick had said what he had to her. The betrayal of it was enormous, shattering. She had cared for him when she was young, had hoped that the strange protectiveness she felt for him might evolve into some deeper friendship when he got older, but he had willingly ingested his father's poison and allowed it to transform him into—whatever this was.

  She didn't like it, but that brief flash of hurt in his eyes had still scored her soul. And when she had seen it freeze over, becoming cold and jagged like ice, she had felt the first spark of fear because those were not the eyes of a man inclined towards forgiveness.

  Jay stared bleakly at the job website she was scrolling through and abruptly sat up. The Bayview Hotel was hiring an office assistant? But Quentin had told her they weren't hiring.

  Maybe the listing is old, she thought—but, no, it had gone up two days ago, just one day before she had met her friend for drinks. And if he was acting manager, he would have known that it was up.

  Remembering his strange expression at lunch, she found herself wondering if maybe he had known. But then, why didn't he want her to know about the job?

  Her fingers were dialing the number for the hotel almost before the suspicion in her mind had even taken shape. Some part of her subconscious warned that she wasn't going to like the answer, and that maybe it was even better not to know, but by the time that line of logic had solidified, the phone was ringing and she had convinced herself that she needed to know.

  “Hello?” said a pleasant-sounding female voice. “This is the Hotel Bayview. How can I help you?”

  “Hi there,” said Jay, affecting the snooty voice her mother liked to use now. “I need to speak to Quentin Ho immediately, please. It's regarding an extremely private, extremely urgent matter.”

  “Hold on,” the woman said, sounding a little less pleasant. “I'll transfer.”

  Jay waited, her heart pounding in her ears.

  “Hello,” Quentin's voice came floating through. “This is Quentin Ho. How can I help you?”

  “Quentin,” said Jay. “I—I saw the job posting. What's going on? Do you not want me working for you?” Am I embarrassing? “Why would you lie to me?”

  Quentin sighed. “Look, baby cakes. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Beaucroft put a moratorium on anyone hiring you. It's nothing official, but he made it known that he wouldn't fund anyone who had you. You know I like you a lot, but we can't afford to have your dad pull out as an investor. It would kill us—especially now. I'm sorry.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?” Why didn't anyone tell me?

  “I figured it was because he was training you in the family business and didn't want anyone poaching you away. A non-compete clause.”

  Oh my God. Jay felt her throat squeeze with tears. I am so screwed.

  “Why are you looking for a job, anyway?” Quentin sounded puzzled. “It's not like you need to work. Your stepfather is literally the richest man around for miles.”

  “Thanks Quentin,” Jay said. “Thanks a lot.”

  She hung up before he could respond. Nothing he could have said would have made the situation any better. It was like the house was an iron corset strangling her, making it harder to breathe, and everyone wanted to pull the laces.

  Drinks with Michael didn't help. They went to one of the mid-tier wineries, Esperanza by the Bay, which specialized in Spanish-style wine. Michael got a flight and Jay had a single glass of albariño. She wasn't sure why she'd gone. Maybe she was looking for comfort or maybe, deep down, she just wanted to feel wanted. But for the right reasons, not the wrong ones.

  She was disappointed, though. Michael hadn't changed at all. “Give us another chance,” he said to her. “My parents adore you, Jay. Our fathers do business. There's no reason we shouldn't be together. You're the perfect girl for me.”

  But are you the perfect man for me? Jay wondered.

  Somehow, she didn't think so, and she came home feeling angry and bitterly disappointed.

  Her mother continued to go out, blithely ignorant to the cold waves of hostility that shuddered through the house. Or maybe, Jay thought, she did notice, and going out was just her means of escape. Jay was incredibly aware of Damon's cruel study, but she was even more aware of Nick, who looked at her as if she were something distasteful.

  She tried to console herself. He's going away for college in less than a month and he can't really do anything for me. Not like his father.

  But normal eighteen-year-old boys didn't have Nick's money. Or his viciousness.

  She decided to avoid him. When he entered a room, she left it. She began staying away from the pool entirely, no longer going outside to read by the lilies. The only place she couldn't escape him was at dinner, where her mother would chatter at the silent room, either enjoying the attention or compulsively filling the silent void.

  Damon ate the food Yelena prepared in silence and Nick would just look at her, the sharpness of his gaze making her feel like her heart was being shredded in her chest.
r />   Enjoy the victory.

  She didn't feel like she'd won. She felt like she'd lost everything.

  Fortunately, Nick was gone most of the time. Out with his friends, going off to orientation, cleaning his room to purge it for college. Boxes of things began migrating out to the curb, which Yelena lugged out through the hall, red-faced and sweating. Old magazines and ancient playthings began to pile up in front of the house.

  When Nick and Damon were out, which was often, Jay helped when she could. Yelena was getting on in years and really shouldn't have been doing the heavy-lifting. The fact that he left the task for her to do anyway despite his able-bodiness was just another example of his blatant selfishness. There was no reason he couldn't take his own things out himself.

  Jay ran into him while carrying out one of the boxes, spotting him too late. He'd come home early from his outing with Jake. His arms came out to grab the box, steadying it and her while keeping it from colliding with his chest. Suddenly, the heavy box in her arms felt weightless.

  She looked at him unwillingly and found herself the subject of his study. Her jeans and T-shirt had felt modest before but the way he was looking at her now made her feel dirty.

  “Are you with the help now?” he asked, in an icy tone of restraint. “I didn't think you were that desperate.”

  Jay tugged on the box. “You know, you could take your own shit out to the curb.”

  “I think I'll leave it in your capable hands.” He let his grip falter and gravity, and the box, made her shoulders sink as she frantically tried to keep from dropping it. “How's the job search going?”

  Does he know what his father did to me? “It's great. So, so great.” You asshole. “I can't wait to get out of this house,” she said viciously, swerving to avoid him with the box. “As soon as I do, I'm never coming back.”

  She could feel his eyes on her as she left. Even though there were more boxes, Jay abandoned Yelena to the task and fled to her room, where she stayed with the door locked until dinner, trying not to think about the way Nick was trying to intimidate her with his body. He was her stepbrother and until recently, she had seen him as her younger brother: a boy.