Dick: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (20 page)

“You’re not going to fuck me, and
now you’re firing me? We’ll see about that,” Jane said coldly, slamming the
door behind her and ending any chance at getting the last word on the matter.
The sonic boom she left behind mingled with her words as they echoed through my
house.

I sighed, rubbing my face with my
hands. “She’s insane,” I mumbled, trying to make my dick forget about the
warmth of her hands, the gentle press of her chest against mine. “She’s utterly
fucking
insane.”

“You’re telling me,” Carla said,
and I looked up to see her standing in the archway to the kitchen down the
hall. “If I’d known what I was getting into, I would have never opened the
door.”

“Sorry, Carla,” I said. “I had no
idea. It won’t happen again.”

She eyed me
harshly. “She’s really not your girlfriend?”

“No,” I
answered with a rueful laugh. “Dear God, no.”

She nodded slowly. “Hm. Better
figure out some way to let
her
know
that. She don’t seem to listen so good.”

“Thanks, Carla,” I said,
listening as her footfalls took her back to the stove.

I took a detour into the living
room, grabbed a bottle of vermouth from behind the bar, and made myself a
martini, but all the alcohol in the world couldn’t drown the sick feeling Jane
had left me with that evening. Things were getting worse between us. She was
pushing even harder for us to legitimize things, and in a way that reminded me
of
Fatal Attraction,
or for that
matter,
Misery.

I shuddered at the thought and
took another swig. As good as that veal Marsala had smelled on my way in, my
stomach turned now at knowing that Jane had had a hand in it.

It was time for Jane to go. I
needed Madison to take me up on my offer, and I needed her to do it soon.

I
thought all weekend about
Preston’s offer. Frankly, it seemed too good to be true, but who was I to
judge? I had an unhealthy view on all things family-oriented, to the point
where a simple kindness might seem like a set up to me. I knew I needed to be more
trusting about this, especially given the direness of my situation, and in the
end, I caved.

Saturday afternoon, I sent
Preston a text. I used the number he’d left me on the card, though I didn’t
know if that phone was for business or personal use. He didn’t respond right
away, and maybe he wouldn’t until Monday morning. Still, he’d told me to show
up when I was ready, and I believed in making a good first impression, even for
my stepbrother.

I spent the rest of that day
sorting through my wardrobe. Preston’s office was unlikely to be anything like
ExecuSpace, and I knew I’d have to exhibit a certain amount of decorum. I
couldn’t use the check to afford new clothes—not until Monday, anyway—so I
chose the only dress I had that could be considered anything close to “high
fashion” and paired it with some nude heels I hadn’t worn since I’d got them.

I would have preferred not to
wear heels at all. They weren’t my thing. They made my feet hurt, my knees
ache, and I’d read all the studies warning me about the long-term damage I was
inflicting upon myself by wearing them. Unfortunately, the men who ran these
kinds of companies hadn’t gotten the memo—or otherwise didn’t care—which meant
that heels were still considered “professional attire” for women, and that meant
I had to either put up with them or settle for an equally-unsupportive pair of
flats.

In the end, I chose the heels.
Flats might have saved my calves, sure, but I could never find a pair that fit
right. I’d spend the whole day feeling the backs of them scraping off the skin
from my ankles and heels, and I’d come home either bleeding or blistered. Until
I got a feel for what Preston would and wouldn’t allow, heels it was.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I
was too nervous, too excited, too terrified to doze off. I kept wondering what
Preston the boss, rather than Preston the brother, would be like. I wondered if
I wasn’t in over my head. Maybe personal assistants to men like him did a lot
more than what I’d learned in my ten years of experience working in the field.
I didn’t want to screw up and find myself out on my ass yet again for the
second time in less than a week.

Preston didn’t strike me as the
type, though. Despite everything I’d ever thought about family, he treated me
with respect and kindness, if our outing on Friday was any indication. He
seemed genuinely to like my company, which hopefully meant that we’d get along.
I just hoped he wasn’t expecting perfection and that he would help me correct
my mistakes instead of jumping down my throat about them.

Calm down,
I told myself when midnight rolled around.
Not everyone in the world is your mother, or Tyler, or Miguel, for that
matter.

It was still nerve-wracking,
though, and when my alarm went off at six a.m., I’d barely slept a wink.

“What a great way to start my
first day,” I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as the first amber rays
of sunlight tickled my face through the blinds. I needed a hot shower and an
even hotter cup of coffee if I was going to be able to count this day as
salvageable.

I’d made plans for what bus would
take me to Preston’s office and when, but when I hurried downstairs, I found a
car waiting for me. This one looked more like what I would have expected from
the Harveys: a black town car with a white-gloved driver standing outside,
looking up at me and shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Miss
Hearst?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said, carefully taking
the next few steps down to where he was parked. I felt like I was going to snap
my ankle. I knew I should have gone with a kitten heel. “I take it Preston sent
you?”

“Yes, miss,” he replied, opening
the back door for me. “I’ll be taking you to his office today. But first, I’m
to ensure you’ve had a good breakfast. Let me know where to stop, miss.
Anywhere you’d like.”

I slid into the backseat,
buckling my seatbelt as the driver closed the door and walked around to the
driver’s side. As he sat down and shifted into drive, I told him, “Honestly,
I’m not really a breakfast person…”

The driver frowned. “Mr. Harvey
asked me not to bring you to the office until eight-thirty, miss. I think he
has some sort of meeting to attend to before then, and he doesn’t want you
waiting around.”

“I’m fine with waiting,” I
assured him. I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry—we haven’t
really been introduced.”

“I’m Gordon, miss. Or Mr.
Fletcher. Whichever you’d prefer.” He was an older man, white-haired and
rugged, but when he spoke it was like listening to pure velvet. “And if you
don’t mind my saying so, if Mr. Harvey offered me a free breakfast, I wouldn’t
waste the opportunity. There’s a place downtown called Nero’s that does a
fantastic omelet, or if you’d prefer, we could stop at one of the chains…”

I smiled at him. “Really, it’s
not necessary. I’ll let Preston… er, Mr. Harvey know that he can treat me to
lunch, instead. Besides, if I get in a little early, I can get the lay of the
land before he gets out of his meeting. I’d count that as an advantage,
wouldn’t you?”

Mr. Fletcher shrugged. “I suppose
so. If you insist, Miss Hearst…”

I leaned back and relaxed as Mr.
Fletcher pulled away from the curb and turned out of my apartment complex. It
calmed me to know that I might have some time to myself in the office before
Preston knew I was there. His previous assistant might have left some notes I
could go over while I was waiting, something that could give me a head start on
performing my new job duties. I always liked having a leg up, and for the first
time since Preston had offered me the position, I felt confident.

It was a deceptively long ride to
his office. Maybe it just felt that way because he wasn’t in the car to have a
conversation with to pass the time, although Mr. Fletcher did a good enough job
of keeping me entertained. He was a really kind man, and I felt a little guilty
that he had to come all the way out to my apartment so early in the morning to
ensure I made it to work. I’d have to look into getting a car sometime soon—a
used one. I didn’t want to blow my signing bonus all in one place.

Mr. Fletcher pulled up to a
building that didn’t look at all like an office. In fact, it reminded me of a
small Tuscan villa more than anything else. It had those terracotta roof tiles
I’d always seen in pictures and columns out front that seemed way too majestic
for a mere base of operations. With the gate out front and the fountain gushing
beyond it, it was definitely not what I was expecting.

Hell, I could fit my apartment in there five times over,
I thought as I looked up at it.
And I owned a two-bedroom.

Mr. Fletcher waited at the gate
as it opened, prompted by the transponder attached to the visor of his car.
“Mr. Harvey likes to keep things… homey,” he explained, driving through. “He
spends a lot of time here. He’s even got a small bedroom set up for those
nights when he just can’t get away. There’s a kitchen, too. Do you cook?”

“Yes,” I answered. “But only for
myself…” I thought my skills were adequate, but what if Preston didn’t? Was
that something he expected out of a PA? It wasn’t even something I had
considered.

A new level of apprehension washed
over me as Mr. Fletcher made his way up the circular drive to the front of the
office. He parked, looking over his shoulder at me as he said, “You’ll be fine,
miss. Mr. Harvey’s not a bad guy, and you seem like a smart girl. You’ll do
well.”

“Thanks,” I said, though I was
sure my lips were trembling. I let him open the door for me before stepping out
of the car and mounting the stone steps leading up to Preston’s
office-cum-villa.

Two beautiful wooden double doors
towered above me at the entryway. As I neared, I saw they were marked by an
intricate set of carvings, filigree mostly, but with a touch of vines and
grapes here and there. They were beautiful yet imposing, just like the office
itself was, and I found myself turning over my shoulder to look down at Mr.
Fletcher and his car once again.

Mr. Fletcher nodded reassuringly.
I could see confidence in his eyes, a confidence I myself no longer had. But it
was enough to spur me forward, and I took a deep breath before pulling on one
of the great handles and letting myself in to Preston Harvey’s inner sanctum.

The inside was just as impressive
as the outside, a gleaming chamber of earth-tone walls and rustic stone tile.
It felt so warm, so inviting, not at all like I’d expected his office to be.
Not that Preston wasn’t a warm and inviting man, perhaps in more ways than I
wanted to admit right then, but I’d always figured a billionaire’s office for
something cold and harsh, a testament to his power and authority. Mr. Fletcher
was right. This felt like a home.

“Hello?” I called out, unsure of
where I ought to turn to next. I was a little overwhelmed by the size of it
all. Should I have ascended the stairs up to the second floor, or stay on the
first and poke my head into all the rooms in search of what I was looking for?
Someone else had to be working there other than me, surely. I walked in a bit
farther after not receiving an answer.

I froze as I heard a door
slamming, followed immediately by the unmistakable sounds of a woman crying.
Then the door in front of me burst open, and I saw the source of all the
sobbing.

“You bastard!” she screamed, her
voice already hoarse from what must have been a prolonged outburst. “You
unimaginable bastard! I can’t fucking believe you! You can’t do this. You
need
me!”

I wanted to duck around the
corner and hide, but there was no use. My knees were jelly and my high heels
would give me away besides. I stayed still, hoping that somehow the red-haired
woman screaming at who I could only imagine to be Preston wouldn’t see me.

“Fuck you!” she added as black
rivers of mascara poured down her face. “You fucking used me. I swear to God,
Preston, I’ll make you sorry if it’s the last thing I do!”

And with that she turned,
barreling straight toward me. I thought she might crash into me, but as I
backed up a pace, she seemed to realize where she was and stopped.

Her big brown eyes widened even
further, though her brow furrowed first in shock, then in rage. I could see her
clutching the strap of her very expensive purse so tightly that her nails were
digging into her palms.

“Oh,” she said. “I fucking get
it. It’s
you,
isn’t it? You’re the
one who’s replacing me.”

I opened my mouth to speak,
unsure of what I was supposed to say. My cheeks burned.
I’m such an idiot. I should have gotten breakfast.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, my heart
racing. “I… I didn’t know…”

“I’ll bet you didn’t,” she
hissed, taking a quick step toward me. I backed up, but she continued
advancing. “You’re not anything special, you know. You don’t mean anything to
him. He used me up and threw me away like I was… like I was
trash
to him, and trust me when I say
he’ll do the same to a bitch like you.”

My back was almost to the front
door. I had no idea what would happen when I reached it. The look in this
woman’s eyes was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was like staring at a rabid
animal.

“I’m warning you. Run. Run away
right now. Just… get the fuck out of here and don’t look back. Preston Harvey
will destroy you, just like he destroyed me. You don’t really matter to him. No
one does.”

The moment I’d been dreading
finally arrived. My shoulders touched the hard wood of the door behind me, and
I cringed, holding onto my clutch tightly as the woman stopped and looked me up
and down. She made a face of utter disgust, as if she couldn’t bear the sight
of what she saw.

“What’s
wrong
with you?” she asked. “Why aren’t you leaving? Do you want to
get hurt—is that it?” She brought her face inches from mine. “Because if that’s
what you want, I’m happy to oblige…”

“
Jane!
” Preston bellowed so loud that for a moment, I wasn’t sure
what he’d said had been a word at all. It sounded more like a clap of thunder
shaking the walls, threatening to knock down every picture and piece of décor
surrounding me. “Get away from her. Now!”