by TARA GALLINA
Me, to keep up my strength so I can continue to kick my father's ass, and anyone else who deserves a beating. Nathan continues working out from his high school days of football, even though he plays as more of a hobby nowadays. Riley does it to build his strength, but he's not as cut as me or Nathan. No one is as big as Nathan. Riley and I take him in height, but Riley has a thin build. I'm lean too but cut and can kick both their asses from years of fighting dirty with my father and his staff.
Once, I was a live wire, ready to fight anytime anyplace. Rage will do that to a hormonal teen.
"Fuck this." Nathan scoops up the ball and tosses it onto the table. "I got a party to get ready for." He throws down another hundred onto the pile on the counter. "I will win this back the next time."
"Sure, you will," I humor him and pocket the cash, not that I need it. None of us do. Of course, I’m the only one out of the three of us who works for a living. I don't have to. I could sit back and live off my father's money, but I like to work. I like the gratification that comes with running a business, having employees, and making my own money. Maybe because nothing has ever been mine by choice.
I follow Nathan out of the game room.
"You joining us tonight?" he asks over his shoulder.
"Not sure. Maybe."
"The cute blonde is coming." He stops at the door to his room. It's not far down from mine, although my door leads to a staircase and an attic bedroom on the third floor.
I shrug. "Doesn't matter." Not that I’m interested. "She's innocent. I'd be careful if I were you."
His brown eyes narrow as he leans against the doorframe. "Innocent how? She's a sophomore in college."
It used to freak Nathan out how well I can read people. Now, he uses the insight to his advantage. He's even learned a thing or two from me over the years. "I’m not sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say she doesn't party much and is a virgin."
Nathan's jaw hits the floor. "A virgin? I didn't think those existed at our school."
Valid point. Ryland is made up of trust fund babies. The girls who attend it are experienced, self-centered, done-up with more plastic surgery than should be allowed for their age, and not shy when it comes to what they want from a guy.
I rub my hand over my jaw. "She must be at Ryland on a scholarship or something." Her car was telling enough when everyone else drives new or high-end. "You saw how she reacted when she lost her job. Most people at our school don't need one." I laugh. "Hell, she pushed for me to hire her so badly after you left, I offered her the job."
Nathan steps forward. "You did not?"
"I didn't hire her. You know I can't, but I wanted to. She … she's obstinate and confusing."
"And hot as fuck," Nathan throws out. "She's all legs with nice tits and that voice makes you want her to say dirty shit in the bedroom, but if she's a virgin, I guess that won't be happening."
"No." I hadn't really checked out her body, but hearing Nathan talk about her like that makes me wonder why. That smart mouth of hers threw me off. I didn't miss that though. Her lips are the kind you dream about sucking your cock. How the hell is she still a virgin? Did she go to an all-girls high school?
"Maybe I’m wrong." I shrug.
He makes a face. "Doubtful. You're usually on the money." He scratches his arm. "Well, she's bringing a friend. Maybe, the girl will be different, less innocent."
"I can't imagine any friend of hers could be different."
"Fuck." He stomps the way he did when he lost court-side tickets to a Magic’s game over a lost bet of pool. "I was seriously looking forward to her and her friend. I’m tired of the same girls hanging around."
"Only because you've done them all," I say.
"You're one to talk."
A laugh scrapes my throat. Right before I broke up with Marina and for a week or two after, I had my fun with some women. No one from Ryland. Marina would have made the girls lives a living hell, even though she has her boyfriends on the side, one in particular. Not that I care. I'd rather she be with other guys. It keeps her attention off me. Neither of us were or are in this relationship by choice. Although it bothers her much less than it does me, especially lately.
"It was something I needed to do," I admit with a shrug.
He puts up his hands. "I'm not judging. I think you should do whoever you need to do. Marina doesn't own you, even though she acts like she does." He folds his arms over his big chest and levels his gaze on me. "Anytime you want an out, I’m your man."
I tap my incisor with my tongue and inhale a deep breath. He hasn't brought this up in a while. Now that it's getting closer to my initiation date, he's been mentioning it. I'd rather he not, which is why I don't respond at all. He knows where I stand on trying to leave the family. It will never happen.
"You try, you die," my uncle told me after the way my mother was killed. That's a lesson you learn quickly.
I open the door to my room.
"Hey?" Nathan takes a step. "Quick question. Do you want me to text you when the blonde gets here with her friend? What was her name again? Something with an A…?"
"Ainsley. And no. I’m not interested."
"You sure about that? I've never known you to offer anyone outside the norm a job, let alone a chick."
I grin. "Old age must be making me soft."
"Yeah, it is." He smacks my hard stomach. "Flabby too."
I wrap my arm around his neck and bend him at the waist, pinning his head near my armpit, his face toward my back as I hold him there.
"Fucker. Why do you gotta be so fast?" He jabs me in the side.
"All right, all right, ladies. Cool your panties. There're enough shots for everyone. Who wants first try?" Riley's voice travels up from the grand staircase, not far from where we stand. The second-floor landing at this part has a railing that leads to the staircase, giving a view to the foyer and front door.
Nathan jabs me again, harder. "I swear, your nerve endings don't work."
I chuckle and let him go.
His face is beat red from all the blood rushing to it and his brown hair sticks out in all directions. "I'll get you one day when you least expect it." He points at me, that shit-eating grin on his face.
"I always expect it." I smile and lean casually against the doorframe.
"Look at him." Riley smacks Nathan's arm. "He didn't even break a sweat."
"Yeah, yeah." Nathan shoves his fingers through his hair, taming the strands. "Quit your drooling and get me one of those shots."
Riley laughs and says to Nathan, "Want me to get you a cool cloth to wipe all that sweat off your face, Princess?"
"Screw you." Nathan grins and shoves Riley when he walks by, headed for the stairs.
I turn and take the steps up to my room two at a time. My phone rings. It's Carlos, the manager to the body shop.
"Hey, man, what's up?"
"The guys are getting tired of answering the phones, and honestly, they suck at it. Do you want me to post an ad? Alex said his sister might be able to do the job, but she'll need more than part-time hours, so she can make rent and her car payment."
"The phones don't ring that much as it is." I grab a beer from the mini fridge in the kitchenette and sit at my desk to fire up my Macbook.
The back of a charcoal sectional lines up with the desk and faces a flat screen I have mounted to the wall. I have the long room broken up into two areas. My work and TV/gaming space and my sleep space, where my bedroom furniture resides. The room doesn't have a closet, so I had to buy an armoire, but it has a newly renovated bathroom and the privacy I need.
I put the phone on speaker, rest it on the desk, and click on the file I had sent to me on Alex's sister Camilla. Before I hire anyone, I do a background check on them. Not the kind run by the human resource department of a company. Eric, a computer genius who works for Nathan's dad's security firm, does me favors for a small—large—fee and runs a thorough check on anyone I send his way. The best thing about Eric is he has zero connection t
o my father, which means I can use him to run checks on anyone who my father associates with too without my father's knowledge.
A summarized document opens on my screen. I scan over the important parts. Twenty-five. Mother of four. Never married. Baby-daddies MIA.
Oh, hell no. "Baby-daddies?" I mutter.
"You're reading her file?" Carlos asks.
"Yeah." Apart from Nathan and Riley, Carlos is the only other person I would trust with my life. He's had my back for three years, for longer if you count all he taught me when he worked as my father’s personal mechanic until the anal-retentive asshole fired him. Perfect timing if you ask me. I'd just won the auto body shop from my uncle at a game of poker. My father's loss was my greatest gain. "I don't see any stability here, and with all those mouths to feed she needs much more than we can ever offer her."
"That’d be a pass then?" Carlos asks.
"Yeah."
He curses in Spanish. "You got a backup?"
"Not exactly." There is the blonde, Ainsley, with her sexy little voice. But I couldn't.
"Well, I got nothing. Camilla was my last option," Carlos says. Mechanic machines buzz in the background.
"Let me work on something. I might have someone. I need to do a background check first. Tell the guys to hang on. We'll have someone soon."
"I hope so, man. This won't go over well, but I'll tell them."
"Thanks. I'll talk to you later."
I end the call and send Eric a message to run a full check on a sophomore at Ryland, first name Ainsley, last name unknown.
Chapter 6
The party won't start for a couple of hours. It'll give me enough time to work out and decide what to do about, "Ainsley," I murmur her name. The more I say it the more I like it.
The girl is desperate for a job. It could also mean she found one already. If not, she still might be interested in working for me. No. No. Bad idea. The business is legal-ish. I pay some of the guys under the table and while we treat and charge our customers the same as any other auto body shop, our clientele has a fair share of money embezzlers, local drug dealers, and the occasional dirty cop. She'd have zero contact with these people other than setting up appointments. Most of them don't call themselves. They have someone else do it for them, a friend, employee, or family member.
If she works remotely like she suggested, she'd never have to come to the office except for every other Sunday to do inventory. The guys might be able to answer the phones but running an Excel spreadsheet is far above their skill level. I could drive her to the warehouse. I work every Sunday anyway. She'd be in the storage room the whole time, never interacting with anyone, and then I could take her home.
The guys might see her and ask questions—or ask her out. Yeah, no. This is a bad idea.
Frustrated that I'm even considering this, I change and head downstairs to the gym. I spend an hour working out. By the time I'm done, I've decided Ainsley isn't a good candidate for the job. First instincts are often correct. My first instinct about her was to protect her from my world, not drag her into it.
"Want a Jell-O shot?" Riley calls out as I pass through the great room soaked with sweat.
"Later." I wave and take the back stairwell to the second floor. The urgency to post an ad for the position has me rushing to my room. The sooner I get out the ad, the sooner the phones are covered.
In my room, I post the position on a job website. It attracts first-time employees and people with little work experience. The position doesn't require anyone with a higher education or even one at all. How desperate is Ainsley to want this job? As a student at Ryland, she has to be smart, and if she's there on a scholarship she has a GPA to maintain. Surely, she can get a better job than answering phones. Of course, she worked as a nanny before she got fired.
I'm thinking about her too much. The workout was also meant to clear her from my head, yet here she is invading my thoughts.
I start up the shower and strip. My phone chimes.
I swipe it from the small counter in the bathroom and groan. Marina.
I'm horny.
Call Tyler, I reply, pretty sure he's her main obsession these days.
I don't want Tyler. I want you. If we're to get back to how we were when we first hooked up, we need to act the way we did before. I know you're still attracted to me or else you wouldn't have let me suck your dick the other week.
By "other week," she means three weeks ago, and I was drunk. Fresh out of a fight with my father and swimming in a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle with Nathan and Riley.
She could have been anybody. I didn't even know it was Marina until I woke up the next morning to find her in my bed. I haven't been wasted since.
With nothing I've done or said working to keep her away, I try a different approach.
Sex isn't part of our arrangement. We had our fun, and then we both went off and had fun with other people. If anyone should understand this part of the arrangement, it's you. You're only in it for the beach house your father promised you after we sign our souls away. Don't try to make this more than it is or needs to be. We're a has-been couple and a future merger. Nothing more.
I shower and change into dark, fitted pants and a V-neck shirt from Gucci or Tom Ford or someone famous. All my clothes are tailor-fit and designer. I've had a stylist since the day after my mother was killed, per my father's orders. He has rules about what I can and can't wear. It's been this way for so long, I don't even bother to try and get my way. My stylist orders my clothes and my tailor makes sure they fit perfectly. My father thinks I've never shopped for myself. He's wrong. I went with Nathan and Riley once and bought a few pairs of jeans. I've yet to wear any of them, and never will around my father.
Music cranks downstairs, the bass reaching me on the third floor with small vibrations. I wasn't kidding when I told Ainsley I’m not big on parties. They're a form of release when needed. Nathan needs them regularly. He thrives off them, and Riley uses them to forget about his own problems by watching other people and getting lost in their drama. I used to be a mix of both, partying as often as they do, but even that got old.
My phone chimes again. This time with a text from Nathan.
Party started. The blonde isn't here yet, in case you were wondering.
I wasn't but thanks.
Riley made some kick ass Jell-O shots. He replies.
Noted.
I sit at my desk again and check my email. Eric sent me a file on Ainsley with a note. Not much to dig up on this one.
I save it to a file on my desktop and open it.
Her last name is Belle. She's twenty, just turned last month. Lives at home with her mother. Parents are married but separated with a lot of debt. Mother is an ER nurse at Florida Hospital. Father lives in Miami, works as a painter.
Ainsley has an older brother by four years. Evan. He's a fourth-year medical student, doing his residency at a hospital on the east coast. She graduated with honors but wasn't top of her class from Winter Park High. She's lived in Florida since she was one year old. Her best friend is Harper, another local and fellow student at Ryland. She worked as a private nanny for the same family since she was seventeen. She's at Ryland on a scholarship, and two grants. She has no criminal record, nothing sealed, and is registered as a safe driver. No current boyfriend or exes within the last year.
Might explain her innocence. Maybe she isn't a virgin or maybe she's waiting until marriage. She could be bi-curious.
At least I understand her desperation for a job. She needs the money and it must be why she still lives at home. If her parents are strapped with debt, they might not be of much help to her. Makes me want to give her the job and a raise.
I don't know what possesses me to check the security feed at that time, but I do. The cameras are all over the house, hidden and constantly monitoring things. The benefit is two-fold. Protection for me and my friends in case my father's minions are lurking, and protection for us regarding the guests should something go wrong during
a party. We don't keep it a secret they’re being recorded. It helps deter any intent of bad behavior, although the occasional drunk-asshole moment does occur, in which case we kick the person or persons out with a warning never to come back.
I scan the live feed in all the rooms. The lights are dim, and people are everywhere. At least nothing crazy is happening. I check on Marcus and Aiden from the front door feed. They like being the doormen of the party—permitting invited guests only into the house. They get paid nicely too.
A busty girl in a silver dress stands near Marcus batting her lashes. A mass of golden curls comes into view. So much hair on such a little girl. I can't see her chest from this angle or her body at all, since she's wearing black pants and a long black sweater. That's a lot of clothes compared to the usual girls we get.
Marcus says something and pulls up the door app on his phone. He lets them in, and the girls disappear from this camera feed. Maybe I should go downstairs and have that Jell-O shot after all.
As soon as I step onto the second-floor landing, I'm spotted by a flock of girls hanging out on the grand staircase. It happens at almost every party. They know where the door to my room is and wait to see if I'll come out.
"Hey, Sebastian." A tall brunette in a hot pink dress waves at me. Her face is covered in heavy make-up, the same with her two friends, giving them a matching look.
I nod at them and head for the back stairwell.
One of the shorter girls with pink-dyed hair and a black dress springs in front of me. She gazes up through lashes so long and thick it's obvious they're fake and puckers her lips. "I heard you and Marina broke up."
"Did you?" I don't share my private life, and these girls are here to gossip and try to make a play.
She touches my chest. "So strong," she purrs.
I stiffen and step back.
She pouts. "Oh, don't be like that. Me and Shayna"—she eyes the third girl who although unrelated to her based on her ethnicity, has the same color hair, dress, and make-up giving them the appearance of twins—"were wondering if you wanted some company. The private kind."