Quid Pro Quo: A dark stepbrother romance

by Nenia Campbell

  “May I ask if you have other counsel representing you?”

  “Only from my company.” Nicholas smiled grimly. “I understand there's a potential divergence of interests there, though.”

  “And have they discussed next steps with you?”

  “Yeah,” said Nicholas. “Settle or fight and see it end up at trial. I'm not settling.”

  “The case might not even end up at trial,” Mr. Wick said, leaning forward on his hands. “Cases get thrown out all the time for a variety of reasons and I wouldn't write off settling at this stage. What's the allegation?”

  “I told you, sexual harassment. But I didn't fucking do it—”

  Mr. Wick held up his hand. “I don't need to know if you did it, Mr. Beaucroft. My only job is to try and argue your case as favorably as possible. I am willing to represent you. But I typically bill four hundred dollars an hour, in addition to payment for today's consultation, if that's acceptable to you.”

  “That's fine.” Nicholas pulled his checkbook out of his pocket and began writing, wondering how his life had come to this. “Why don't you have a nicer office if you charge so much?”

  “What's the point?” Mr. Wick asked, taking the check and folding it into his pocket. “I'd rather have a nicer house.”

  “Fair.” Nicholas slung on his coat, fighting back an unexpected wave of dizziness. He was really feeling that missing lunch hour. “I guess we'll be in touch.”

  “I guess we will,” Mr. Wick said mildly. “Have a good day, Mr. Beaucroft.”

  Nicholas threw himself into his work back at the office, looking over at Jay and Arthur when they returned. Jay was holding a little paper sack in one hand and looked happy, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she smiled at her new boss, who looked just as fucking delighted with her.

  He ran his thumb over the knot in his tie, recalling Jay's taunt from that morning. She had obviously been trying to provoke him, because nobody as moral as she was would ever fuck around with a married man. Had she been trying to get a response? He liked her vicious. He could be vicious, too. He'd been so close to giving in to his urge to tear open her blouse and mark up her throat like he did when he were young and she he had been his everything—

  And he had been her jailer.

  Christ. What was wrong with his head? He'd been feeling dizzy and weak all day.

  There wasn't time to worry about it or feel sorry for himself, though, so he went back to the metrics, tweaking the formulas until they did exactly what he wanted.

  Numbers were unbending entities of logic, but even they could be manipulated.

  When he finished working, most of the lights in the building had turned off and the office was empty except for a handful of engineers doing site maintenance. Jay was in the kitchen, reading a book with the paper bag sitting next to her.

  “How was lunch?” he asked, watching her slide the bookmark in place. The fluorescent lights were flickering and it was making his eye twitch. “Did you have fun?”

  “We went to a vegan place in the next town over. It's called Just Avocados. All of their menu items are made with avocados.”

  “Cute.”

  She reached into the paper bag and pulled out a plastic box. “Here.” She thrust it at him. “You didn't have to request oat milk for me, you know. I could have brought my own from home.”

  Home. His chest hurt as he stared at the box. “What's this?”

  “It's the vegan equivalent of your fairy bread,” she said, her tone gently mocking. “Vegan cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles. It's made with apple cider vinegar and avocados in the batter. I bought it for you, even though you've been such an asshole, because I didn't—”

  Her voice faded away. Nicholas said nothing, waiting her out. She hated being stared at, and he could already see her beginning to squirm under his gaze as she fought the impulse to look away. He'd always found it curious how someone so beautiful could be so averse to being watched.

  Jay folded her arms. “I didn't realize that you were looking out for me. Not that I need someone constantly looking over my shoulder but—what you did . . . keeping people from talking about me . . . that was,” she hesitated. “Surprising.”

  Nicholas watched her shift from foot to foot on the tile. “Who told you?”

  “Does it matter?” She looked at him in a way that made him want to demand even more answers because her caginess meant that it must have been a man. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “We aren't exactly confidants.” He looked around the dark, spotless kitchen. The janitors always cleaned it up every night around six. “I'm sorry.”

  Jay stopped. “For what?”

  “Today has been terrible.” He looked down at the box and half-smiled. “But so have I.”

  She said nothing as she shoved the book into her purse but he could see the struggle on her face. Only the security guard remained in the hall to wave goodbye as they left. “What was terrible? Did one of your business deals go sour?”

  “I don't want to talk about it. I just have to fix it.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Possibly.” Nicholas opened the door for her, giving her the box back to hold on her lap. Overhead, the stars seemed to shudder. “I can't get into it with you.”

  She frowned and didn't push, but he knew what that look meant. “Is it because of me?”

  “No.” Nicholas pulled slowly out of the lot. He could feel her eyes on him, knew she was wondering why he was driving so slowly. He stared at the white lines whipping beneath the car and shook himself as they began to blur again, tightening his grip on the wheel. “You're perfect.”

  He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice and heard her clothes rustle as she made some sort of involuntary movement. “Nick,” she said. “Don't.”

  “Come on, blue jay. What's the worst thing you've ever done, apart from me? Touched yourself and liked it? Made a few grown men cry?” He laughed humorlessly. “I do both those things at least a couple times a week and I've never lost any sleep over it.”

  “You haven't been sleeping well lately,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah,” he said, bringing the car to a rough stop. “I haven't.”

  “Maybe that's your conscience.”

  “Maybe it's yours.” Exhaustion slammed against him like a claw hammer as he slid out of the car. He slumped, bracing himself against the roof. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I'm fine. Just tired. How's Thai?” He took out his phone and immediately dropped it on the walkway. He swore and nearly stumbled as he reached for it. “Fuck.”

  Jay stooped to pick it up but he noticed she put it into her pocket instead of giving it back. When he grabbed for it, she caught his hand, and he let it splay over her hip. “You're pale and your hands are freezing,” she said, sounding a little worried. “What did you eat for lunch?”

  “Nothing. I had a meeting.”

  “For breakfast?”

  “Another meeting—and coffee.”

  She muttered something under her breath, looping an arm around his back. “Give me your keys,” she said, and he handed them to her, his cock stiffening when her breast grazed him.

  “Arthur must have let you down gently.”

  “Don't make me drop you,” she hissed.

  Nick laughed and pivoted for the stairs, but Jay turned him around towards the kitchen instead, standing there obnoxiously until he lowered himself into a chair. He did, grudgingly, swinging his legs into the cramped space. “You like taking care of people, don't you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Yeah you do. You like managing people's schedules. Sorting them out like a proper school mistress. You've always been like that. Bossy and lecturing. You used to call me in sick when I was little,” he said, leaning back. “You never stayed home with me, though.”

  “Because I had school.” She glanced at him. “And you were a brat.”

  Little bird,
he thought, watching her flutter around the kitchen. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he felt her warm hand shaking him.

  “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asked as he pulled the soup she'd placed in front of him towards himself. “This isn't like you.”

  He ate the soup in three swallows. “What is this?”

  “Carrot soup with coconut milk.” She looked pointedly at the empty bowl. “Why?”

  “It was good.” He got up unsteadily and leaned against her. “Take me to bed.”

  “Don't say it like that, you dick,” she snapped, which gave him the first real laugh he'd had all day as they walked out into the hall. After so little sleep and sustenance, he felt almost drunk.

  “Relax, blue jay. I'm too tired to fuck. But you can still sleep with me if you want. Just like old times.” He tried to leer but his eyes ended up closing again and he felt her grip on him tighten. “I always felt safe with you. Falling asleep in your arms felt so . . . mmm.”

  “Wake up.” Her voice sounded faint. “Look. Here's your bed.” She tugged at his jacket, working it off his shoulders. Despite his words to the contrary, he got a little hard when she slid his tie from around his neck and loosened his collar. “Lie down.”

  “Take my belt off,” he breathed.

  Jay looked down and her eyes flared. “Take your own belt off.” When he laughed again, this time a little hoarsely, she pushed him back against the mattress.

  Nicholas caught her by the wrists, tugging roughly enough that she ended up beside him when he toppled, landing with a startled bounce. He immediately wrapped his arms around her. “You're staying with me,” he informed her, shifting her to one arm as he worked the buckle of his belt one-handed, sighing in relief when the pressure abated.

  “I'm still wearing my boots. You'll ruin your sheets.”

  Nick let the belt fall to the floor. All her struggling had caused her shirt to become untucked, revealing several inches of her bare stomach. He spread his fingers over it. She was warm and soft and when he hooked a leg over one of hers to keep her still, he felt her freeze.

  “I really don't give a fuck about the sheets.”

  “Oh,” she said, when his hips pushed against her. “Well, that's charming.”

  “Blue jay.” His mouth brushed the warm skin of her neck and she shivered, which made him smile and run a hand over her front. “You need someone to take care of you.”

  “No, I don't,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He traced the open throat of her blouse. “But do you want to?”

  Jay went very still as his arm resettled underneath the hem of her shirt and he let his head fall until his nose was pressing into her hair. It still smelled like apples.

  Within seconds, he was asleep.

  ▪▫▪▫▪▫▪

  Jay eventually managed to extract herself from Nicholas's grip, which was surprisingly strong, even in slumber. She thought her wriggling might wake him, but he was completely passed out. Sighing, Jay threw the covers over him before yanking off her boots in the hallway outside his bedroom and limping to her bedroom where Carbon was prowling anxiously.

  She tossed the shoes towards her closet. Her neck still prickled where he'd kissed it. What the hell was that? And what kind of trouble was he in that he would forget to eat or sleep?

  You need someone to take care of you.

  Easy for him to say. He'd had people taking care of him his entire life. Maybe the people in his life hadn't loved him, but he'd never been alone. He'd never known what it was like to feel yourself falling and wonder if you'd ever hit rock bottom. But she did, and she had.

  She could feel herself hitting it now.

  The next morning, Jay watched for him, sitting up when he came into the kitchen. He didn't look quite as disheveled as he had the previous morning—not that she'd been hoping for another glimpse of his chest—but the stubble around his mouth and jaw was just a few days away from becoming a beard, and there were dark smudges under his eyes.

  “You want to make me some coffee?” he asked, in lieu of a greeting.

  “No,” said Jay. “I dragged you up to bed and made you dinner after you treated me like shit. I'm not making you coffee. Make it yourself or have Annica do it when you get to the office.”

  “Annica doesn't make me coffee.” He gave her a pathetic look. “I barely know how to use that fucking machine. It's European. Some kiss-ass gave it to me as a Christmas gift.”

  “That's too bad.”

  “I'll pay you.”

  “Do you see a barista in this room?”

  Nicholas leaned forward, looking up at her. “I'll knock an hour off your debt.”

  Jay shot a look at him before storming belatedly over to the machine and popping open the top. “Coffee's really worth an hour of sex from a whore at a good brothel to you?”

  “Right now, it is.” He gulped it down as soon as she put the cup in front of him without even waiting for it to cool. “Thanks.”

  “You're going to get esophageal cancer if you drink your coffee boiling hot.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grabbed the cupcake box. “You going to lecture me about peristalsis next?”

  Jay leaned back against the counter. “I'm surprised you remember that.”

  “You know I'm a fan of swallowing.”

  “Creep.” She scowled as he began to devour the cake in a way that shouldn't have looked quite as attractive as it did. “How is it?”

  He licked icing from his lip. “Sweet.”

  It became so quiet that Jay could hear the ticking of a distant clock. Nicholas closed the box with a screech of plastic that had her jolting with wary readiness as he got up to toss it into the recycling. Her skin was already prickling like he'd touched her and she was ashamed to realize that a part of her actually wanted him to.

  “So,” said Jay, fighting to keep her voice steady. “If a cup of coffee runs five thousand dollars now, how much are you willing to pay me to fuck you?”

  His back was facing her, so she couldn't see his expression, but she saw his shoulders jump beneath the fabric of his shirt a heartbeat before he turned to look at her. “What?”

  “How much,” she repeated, “for me to fuck you? I want to renegotiate.”

  “Do you,” he said, in a tone of deliberate calm, stalking towards her in a way that filled her with a terrible need even as it made her want to flee. His eyes drifted over her again as he bent over her, resting a hand on the wall over her head. “Are you sure you want to play hardball with me, Jay? I told you what I do to people who try to fuck me.”

  “I don't like having the same hourly rate as the swill coffee.”

  “Isn't that just so fucking sad for you,” he remarked, as a dark smile marred the seductive fullness of his mouth. “What do you think you should be paid?”

  “I don't know,” she shot back. “Why don't you tell me what you think I'm worth?”

  Nicholas paused and Jay sensed that she had surprised him in some way. She wished she knew how; it suddenly felt important to know.

  “More bid rigging?” he asked, drawing his fingers along her jawline in a way that made her remember how they'd felt wrapped around her throat. “When did you get so corrupt, Justine? Didn't you used to be everybody's little angel?”

  Jay couldn't remember the last time he'd called her Justine. Not since he was ten.

  “Actually,” said Jay, looking up at him, “I believe this is technically profiteering.”

  His eyes flashed and then his mouth was over hers, knocking her head back against the frame. There was anger in that kiss, though it didn't appear to be directed at her; she could feel it smoldering, partially tamped-down like embers capable of being raised anew to flames. It was devastating; he still tasted like sugar, and the lingering flavor of it gave his rough attentions a potency that was impossible to resist. She was so tired of resisting.

  She gripped the back of his neck as he peeled her away from the door, his
hands kneading into her backside through the clingy material of her skirt with enough force that she nearly lost her will to stand. “You are a bad girl, aren't you?” he whispered.

  Yes, some dark part of her brain whispered as he molded her body against his in that possessive embrace, and he pulled back to look at her with such desire that she thought she might burst into flame. Nobody had ever looked at her like that—as if she were filled with such lethal sweetness that craving could be synonymous with ruin. But only for you.

  Nicholas bent his head. She could feel each breath glancing off her skin as he unbuttoned her blouse, his forehead resting against her cheek. “What—are you doing?” she asked, too far gone to feel any shame at the cracks riddling her voice like something about to shatter.

  Her blouse was half-unbuttoned and he pushed it open. “Giving you a hickey.”

  When she felt his mouth on the skin that had been covered by her shirt collar, she heard herself moan, “Why?”

  “Because as cute as it is seeing you to take advantage of me, I'm still going to punish you for it.” His voice, so low, sent a curl of flame licking through her abdomen as he began to kiss her, sucking hard enough to make her wince. He folded the cups of her bra down beneath the weight of her breasts and pinched each of her nipples hard enough to make her cry out. “I told you it wouldn't be sweet,” he whispered, spinning her around in his embrace so that her back was against his front. “That it would leave you hurting.”

  He slid one of his hands under her skirt, pressing his knuckles against her underwear before tugging them aside and sliding his fingers between her legs. There was a quiet kissing sound as he parted her, and that embarrassed her enough that she halfheartedly began to struggle, but the arm around her waist was strong, and he thrust two fingers into her, breathing against her throat as he pushed as far as he could go.

  “You said—it wasn't a warning,” Jay gasped, doubled over his forearm, clawing a little at his shirtsleeves.

  “No, I didn't.” And then, after that sank in, he began to fuck her with his hand.

  It was brutal, and it made her come with such breathless abandon that she was left stunned. At some point, his grip shifted higher, and one of his hands slid inside her blouse. Jay arched back against him, pushing her breast into his palm, her head tilted slightly to one side to give him access to her neck. When he licked it, tasting her sweat, she shuddered.