Controlling Interests: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Series Book 2) (22 page)

The ropes pained me. I raised my chin. “And what would that be?”

“Family.”

“You can’t put a price on blood,” Bryant said.

I shivered. “But some might try.”

“If it’s in the company’s best interests.”

My stomach flipped. I edged closer to Nicholas.

The creeper’s tone screamed danger. He spoke with a veil over his thoughts but not his amusement. Mom didn’t notice. She pointed through the crowd.

“Now, Sprout…” Mom aimed her attention for a college aged man with tousled hair and a grin with too much tooth. “That’s the Livingston boy. Remember him? Robert?”

I remembered, even if she didn’t. “Richard.”

“Yes, Richard. That’s right. You should go talk to him.”

“Why?”

“He’s premed with a trust fund the size of our back field.”

“
What
?”

“You should start looking for a nice boy, Sarah.” She took Darius’s hand. “I wish I’d tried harder at your age. Things might have turned out differently.”

Bryant chuckled. “Bethany, don’t go pressuring the girl. I’m sure she’d rather enjoy her family now. Isn’t that right, Nick?”

This time, his words stuck with the subtlety of champagne thrown in my face. I chilled.

Mom shushed him. “Oh, Bryant, you don’t know what it’s like. Both your children are grown and married. I won’t be happy until Sarah finds a nice boy and settles down.”

Bryant grinned. “Eager for those grandbabies?”

Darius slithered his arm over Mom’s shoulder. “Aren’t we all?”

I didn’t like this.

Not at all.

Something was wrong.

Nicholas pulled me from the cluster before they saw my shiver.

“Excuse us,” he said. “This is a party, after all. If Sarah would care to dance…?”

Mom’s
aww
was unnecessary. “Oh, Nick. And here I thought Reed was the charmer.”

This wasn’t charm. It was necessity. The ropes punished my sore slit and bruised breasts. I could hardly move, let alone dance, but Nicholas pulled me to the floor anyway. He held me like a proper gentleman, but he couldn’t hide me from Darius’s stare.

An entire ballroom or a thousand miles could separate us, and Darius Bennett’s menacing gaze would still find me.

Pin me.

Hurt me.

I squeezed Nicholas’s hand until my fingers turned white.

“You’re hiding something,” I said. “What haven’t you told me?”

He spun me in perfect rhythm, as though we were two friends, two
siblings
, enjoying the party, the music, the laughter of those admiring an Atwood and Bennett in harmony.

But it wasn’t harmony.

It was discord.

And it broke my heart.

“Darius’s partners know we’ve kidnapped you. They’ve demanded you remain at the estate until we secure the future of your company.”

The lights and music blended into a dizzy blur of noise and pain. I pretended to smile as we swayed to the music.

“How do they know?”

“My father told them.”

“He
told
them? Everything?”

Nicholas held me tighter. “Everything.”

I tasted the scream, but my lungs collapsed before I uttered a sound. “The Bennett Board of Directors ordered you and your brothers to
breed
me?”

Nicholas guided me through the dance, but I had no control over my steps. The ropes would hang me now. I couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t let me pull away. I could do nothing while we waltzed within a gala of close friends and allies, social partners and potential investors.

I was trapped.

“You didn’t tell me.” My words weakened as the ropes strangled me beneath my dress. “You didn’t tell Max or Reed.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Of course it does!”

“My father involved only the investors he trusts.”

“Nick, those are the ones who hold the
majority
.”

“Once you inherit the trust, this will be nothing,” he said. “You’ll control the board, regardless of what they’re doing to steal your company.”

Like it would matter.

Like I could face the men who damned me to a life of imprisonment and abuse.

“Don’t pretend, Nick.” My fingers clutched his arms, but it’d be my voice that sharpened enough to draw blood. “You did nothing to stop it. You agreed with the board and did everything they told you to do.”

“To save your life.”

“You haven’t saved me at all.”

I had to get away. The longer I stayed in his embrace, the more likely I’d collapse against him and use his strength instead of my own.

He had captured me that way once.

It wouldn’t happen again.

“I thought your father was evil. If I had known your entire company was this demented, I’d have set my farm on fire just to end this insanity.”

“Sarah—”

I couldn’t escape Nicholas’s arms. He led me into a swaying circle as though he planned for the dip in the music and charming swirl. “You
kept
this from us.”

“If Reed and Max knew, they might have attacked the board. Who knows what my father would have done.” He paused. “And I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“Well, I am frightened!” I searched his honeyed eyes for anything to protect me from the madness. “If they would plan my rape, they would plan my murder.”

“I won’t let it happen.”

But he let everything happen. He read my expression, and the truth slashed us both with regret, remorse, and despair.

I mourned the trust he’d never earn.

So did he.

“I have to stop this,” I said.

“If they suspect you know anything—”

“They’ll what? Inject me with fertility drugs? Force me to have sex with my three step-brothers? Let Darius beat me any time I try to fight? What else can they do to me?”

“Kill you.”

“Only if I don’t fight back.”

Our dance continued.

But my heart shattered.

The Bennetts didn’t know what happened when an Atwood was pushed past their limit.

Dad ignored me in favor of my brothers, but I inherited as much tenacity as Josiah or Mike. We would ring the sky for rain and tear through the earth to destroy any weed that strangled our crop.

The Bennett Corporation was the very definition of a weed. They were a coiling, tangling, worthless infection of rot that stole the sun from everything good and pure. They’d be ripped from the soil and cast in the heat to bake and wither.

Darius Bennett roamed the gala like a damned champion of charity and generosity. He was respected because of his name and status and where he sat in the board room.

I had surrendered to the Bennetts for long enough. Now it was my turn to take what I deserved.  Justice wouldn’t cleanse my wounds. I demanded vengeance. I’d steal everything that was Darius’s and cast it into hell with him. And I knew just how to do it.

Roman Wescott.

I’d find him. Earn his vote. Secure the trust.

I’d free myself from my imprisonment.

Because I couldn’t depend on anyone else to do it for me.

“Good evening, everyone!” Reed took to the stage as the music ended. “I’m Reed Bennett, and I’d personally like to welcome you all to the 15
^th
annual Bennett Foundation Charity Gala.”

The audience applauded. I stayed at Nicholas’s side, though I didn’t know if the ropes or his presence hurt me more.

“Just a little history for you guys,” Reed said. “My family started this charity when my brothers and I were children. I was eight years old when my mother was killed in a terrible car accident, and my brother and I were severely injured. Fortunately, my family is blessed with the resources to handle such traumatic events, including our numerous surgeries and long recovery.”

My chest tightened. What recovery? Darius subjected Reed to dozens of plastic surgeries to reduce the scarring to his face to preserve the Bennett image. Max should have lost his leg. Had his father been compassionate, he wouldn’t have lived in agony.

“Many families aren’t as fortunate as mine, and they need help to cover the costs of an unexpected emergency. The Bennett Foundation is in place to help those families focus on what’s important—healing, recovering, and getting children home where they belong.”

The gala clapped. Reed waved away the applause.

“Before we begin tonight, I have some good news to share,” he said. “The Foundation is pleased to announce we’ve already raised seven hundred thousand dollars, and our auction hasn’t even begun.”

Another applause, only this time, a man near the stage waved his hand.

“It’s for a good cause. I’ll give another ten thousand now!”

Reed winked. “What a totally generous and completely unplanted offer from Mr. Benjamin Hart.”

Another hand rose, this time a rugged, frightening man who didn’t belong in a tuxedo called out to Reed. “Fifteen thousand to my godson!”

Reed nodded. “And fifteen thousand from Tovial Aren, my godfather. Make sure you all bid on the Harley that Tovial and the Temple MC donated for the auction. This year, the bike actually has a VIN number!”

The gala laughed as Tovial curled a fist at his godson. Reed held up a hand to speak.  

“In all seriousness. I’d like to thank our largest donors for their generosity. Of course, I have to recognize my father, Darius Bennett.”

The room exploded with applause. My stomach turned. He listed three other names, though only one dug into my mind like a bullet through my skull.

“Roman Wescott,” Reed announced. “You’ve always been a great supporter of this charity.”

The bindings either tightened or my asthma threatened me. Reed gestured to a photographer.

“Actually, if you all wouldn’t mind coming to the front for a picture.”

Two of the benefactors eagerly parted from their friends for a chance to gloat their generosity in the newspaper. Roman declined, though the cheers of the crowd pulled him from the back of the room.

My heart thunked with every step he took. Nicholas gripped my elbow.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t.”

“I’m not allowed to mingle?”

“No.”

“Your rule or your father’s?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

I meant it to hurt, but he was right. Neither of them would let me speak with the one investor who could award the Josmik Trust early. But if he didn’t see me now, Darius would stuff me into the limo and only the devil could predict what he’d do when I was imprisoned behind his walls once more.

I wasn’t waiting for Nicholas to earn his support. Not now. Not anymore.

This was my only opportunity.

I sucked in as deep a breath as the bindings allowed. My arm surged into the air.

“I’ll donate two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!”

The gala silenced.

Nicholas released me.

“Atwood Industries gives two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!”

“I…” Reed’s shock stole his confidence. What others would assume was excitement, I knew was dread. Because I felt it too. Darius’s prickling stare burned through me. “And two hundred and fifty
thousand
dollars from Sarah Atwood my, uh, supremely generous step-sister.”

The applause started stunned, but all attention turned to me. I did as Dad taught and accepted their cheers with the grace inherent to the Atwoods.

Nicholas stiffened. His voice growled, low.

“Get up there before my father kills you,” he said. “Now.”

It was an expensive few minutes bought in the company of a man who had no idea the power he wielded, but I would have paid double for the chance. My billions were worth nothing if I was killed before I spent it. I endured the gossiped whispers and tucked between skirts to reach the stage.

Reed met me at the stairs, surveying the gala as though he expected open gunfire. And maybe he did. I leaned close as the charity’s benefactors slithered before a photographer.

“What the hell are you doing?” He whispered.

Hell if I knew, but I was going for it. “Can you see the ropes through the dress?”

“The
what
?”

I took that as a
no
and decided it was safe to take the picture. I slid beside Roman Wescott with a charming grin. The photographer worked quickly as the waltzes played and the crowds dispersed for the auction. Three flashes and we were done.

“Distract your father.” I ordered Reed. My heart ached. “And Nicholas.”

“Sarah, what’s going on?”

I didn’t answer. Roman thanked the photographer with a cordial formality. He didn’t linger, but that was fine. I hurried to his side before he returned to his associates at the bar.

“Mr. Wescott!”

He turned. His eyes hardened like chipping stone.

“Ms. Atwood.”

“Yes!” I held my hand out, reflexively, and offered as firm a handshake as Dad insisted a woman should have. “Yes, I’m Sarah Atwood.”

“A pleasure.”

It sounded more like a dismissal, but I wasn’t done. I hadn’t even started.

“I was hoping I could speak with you.”

“I apologize, but I don’t conduct business at social events.”

“My father taught me the same,” I said. He had Nicholas’s presence, but he seemed far older. “This will only take a moment. You had an agreement with my brothers.”

“Ms. Atwood, I’m not entirely sure we should discuss this matter here.”

It was true. I cast a glance over my shoulder. I didn’t see Darius, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see me.

“I understand. But Mr. Wescott, I want you to know that I am as serious about Atwood Industries and my family’s commitments as my brothers were.”

“Ms. Atwood, the Josmik Trust was not intended—”

“I realize it was not meant for my name, not intentionally. But, I assure you, I am uniquely qualified to assume the very same responsibilities my brothers’ anticipated in forming this arrangement.”

“I’m sure you are.” He raised a hand to silence me. “But this is neither the time nor place nor
gathering
to discuss such business.”

“I understand, but—”

“You are eager, Ms. Atwood. These past few months have been difficult on all parties.” He handed me his card. “We will set a meeting where we may talk without such discretion.”