Controlling Interests: A Step-Brother Romance (The Legacy Book 2) (33 page)

Darius exhaled, as though he mourned for the son before him, or maybe he mourned that he still lived.

“Nicholas, I raised you better than this. I groomed you for excellence. You wore the mantle of our name with
pride
. I trusted you. I wanted you to succeed.”

How could a man so deranged sound so…sane?

Calm?

Normal
?

Darius wielded a gun as though he held a cigar, and addressed his son as though he wouldn’t inevitably turn the barrel on me and end the madness we thought we’d escaped.

“I taught you nothing was more important than family,” Darius said. “Max understood it. He knew what had to be done to protect our interests.”

“Fuck you,” Max hissed.

“He blames me, of course,” Darius said. “Each of you blame me, but it’s the father’s role to guide his sons, whether or not they understand the need for disciplines, the denials, and expectations.” He paused. “I had hoped you would learn with a son of your own.”

My stomach rolled. Reed forced me down.

The gun raised. “Let me see my daughter. Bring her to me.”

“No.”

“Do you understand what will happen if she assumes leadership of our company? If it isn’t a Bennett son who ultimately grows in her womb?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’ll lose everything, Nicholas. And not just the money and the power and company.” His voice lowered. “You’ll lose your little whore too.”

I fought against Reed, but I couldn’t free myself of his grip. Nicholas said nothing. Darius chuckled.

“You surprised me. Truly. The takeover attempt? Then, I didn’t understand it. It felt too early for you to test your power. But now, I see.”

I doubted that he did. Darius reached for the collar on the table. He ran his fingers over the leather.

“You betrayed your family, company, and future for a moment of pleasure. You trusted an Atwood whore with your life. And now? You’ve squandered the wealth this family inherited and every future cent we might have acquired. All because of
her
.”

Nicholas didn’t flinch. “This isn’t about Sarah.”

“Yes, it is.”

The gun pointed too close to Nicholas’s temple. I pushed Reed away and crawled to my feet, despite Nicholas’s insistence to stay behind. My step-brothers tried, but they couldn’t protect me from Darius’s stare.

Hungry.

Insistent.

Victorious.

Darius meant to kill someone tonight.

“Even though my
loyal
sons, my own flesh and blood, have forsaken this family, I have not.” He looked to each of my step-brothers, demanding their full attention. “I propose two solutions to this problem. And because I am a fair man and father, I will let my sons decide the fate of this family.”

It wasn’t fate, it was judgment. Whatever solution he offered and decision they made would ultimately end in blood.

“Proposition one,” Darius said. “I kill Sarah and end the threat of her takeover in one painless shot.”

“No.” Nicholas didn’t hesitate.

“Then I kill all three of my sons.”

My chest tightened.

All three? I didn’t doubt his cruelty, but Darius wouldn’t dare. Not if it left him without an heir.

Unless he already planned for his next son.

“I will not tolerate this disloyalty,” he said. “Not when I am presented with a beautiful alternative, just waiting for someone to do it right.”

He leered, and I understood exactly what he wanted to do.

“I’ll take Sarah for myself. Fuck her. Impregnate her. And our heir?” His eyes pierced through me, as violating as any touch. “Our son will possess the future of both the Bennett and Atwood families.”

“You’re insane,” I whispered.

“Hush, now. Daddy’s talking.”

“You won’t touch her.” Nicholas wasn’t intimidated. “If you want to kill us, try. You don’t have enough bullets to stop me before I rip your goddamned head off.”

“Let’s find out.”

The gun rose, but Max leapt first, diving at his father with a knife stolen from the kitchen. Darius expected it. He slammed the butt of the gun against Max’s nose and kicked, aiming solely for the weakest part of his leg. Max crumpled to the ground, slicing, but catching only Darius’s suit jacket with the blade.

The gun aimed.

“Odd,” Darius murmured. “You’d sacrifice yourself for
this
Atwood.”

I shouted, shoving past Reed and diving in front of Max. Nicholas captured me in his arms, but not before my plea stalled Darius’s tensing finger on the trigger.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Please, don’t!” My nails dug into Nicholas’s arms. “I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t hurt them!”

“Somehow, I doubt you’ll do
whatever
I want. Tempting though, child.”

“I swear it. Please. Let them all go.”

“Christ, you are a little whore. Are all three of my sons that taken with your cunt?”

“Leave them out of this? If you’re going to rape me, then just do it and get it over with.”

“How romantic, child.”

“What the hell do you want?” I spat.

Reed called to me, his voice hard. “Sarah, shut up.”

Darius waved Reed into silence. “No, she’s free to ask. It’s a simple question. Do you know want I’ve wanted ever since we first invited Sarah into our home?”

I answered for them. “My heir.”

“That’s right. And I trusted my sons to do as they were meant to do. Three men, three chances for success.” He raised the gun as his smile twisted. “I have a third proposition.”

Oh God.

Nicholas tightened his arm over me, pulling me into his embrace.

It wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough.

Nothing he did or said or offered would ever be enough to prevent what Darius planned to happen.

“My sons
will
take responsibility for this family. They will do what must be done to save it.”

He extended his hand for me.

It was either his touch or the bullet.

I didn’t fear for my blood, not while Nicholas held me, Reed protected me, and Max already crumpled to the ground in his own attempt to save me.

They were spared, but they weren’t yet saved. That was up to me.

I approached Darius too slowly for his liking. He tisked his tongue, seizing my hair and slamming me against him. The thin dress never stopped him before. He ripped through the neckline and dropped the tattered material to the floor.

My step-brothers swore.

I didn’t.

I forced myself into silence.

How was this any different from what already happened?

Nothing had changed. Not the exposure or humiliation. Not the dread poisoning my body or the tremors threatening my resolve.

Darius Bennett had already captured me. Then, I braved any illicit touch or pain to defend the false memory of my father. This time, I’d protect ones who deserved it. A real family. Men who risked everything to save me only to have the danger pointed at their temples.

Darius could do nothing to me he hadn’t previously done. If he still believed I could deliver him an heir, all the better.

I offered my body once.

I’d do it again to save my step-brothers, the only real family I had left.

The gun pressed under my chin. He reached into his jacket.

“I didn’t forget what day this was.” He removed the syringe from his pocket and showed it to me. The needle was far larger than the previous fertility injections. I tensed as he used his teeth to remove the cap and spit it away. “This is a momentous occasion. Do you know what this injection does?”

Yes, but I didn’t answer.

“It induces ovulation,” he said.

His hand brushed my stomach, gripping the flatness he deluded himself into believing would eventually grow.

“You’re ready now, my dear.” He ripped my hair, but his voice softened too much for the threat of the needle and the fist gripping my panties. He shoved them down, but they didn’t come all the way off. That shamed me more. The strewn panties and ripped bra were worse than nudity. Darius exposed only what they
needed
. Only what they’d take.

Only what he meant to hurt.

And he wanted them to hurt me. Though Darius Bennett didn’t care what happened to me or my body, Nicholas, Max, and Reed did. They refused, willing to take a bullet over causing me pain.

But that wouldn’t save any of us.

Or them.  

“It’s okay.” My voice broke as I comforted them for the evils they’d do to me. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, but I made the choice for them. Darius twisted my hip and aimed the injection. I winced as the needle plunged too hard and too fast into the fleshiest part of my thigh. The medication burned.

Darius tossed the syringe to the ground. He yanked my hair to keep me still.

“You’ve had three months to impregnate her, sons, but maybe you aren’t doing it right. So listen to your father while he explains. This is your whore.” He pointed the gun too close to the crest between my legs. “This is where you fuck. And now, all three of you are going to do your part for this family right now, do you understand?”

Three men.

My stomach heaved.

I wasn’t ready for this.

There wouldn’t be any kind words, soft touches, or sensual teasing. My body wouldn’t warm in submission without understanding why I offered myself to them. It wouldn’t be fun or loving or a treat like what Nicholas had planned for me that night in the theater.

Reed paled. Max didn’t look at me.

But Nicholas?

He stared at me.

Permission. A reason to do it. An apology.

I didn’t look away. “I trust you.”

I had to.

Three men. I could handle three men.

These
men.

If it meant saving our lives, even if it protected us for only a few hours, it was worth the sacrifice, no matter how reckless.

I submitted if only to survive.

I submitted to save them.

Darius tossed me to the ground, the gun aiming only inches from my head. I cowered before my step-brothers, flinching as his voice rasped with perverted authority and chilling composure.

“Who’s first?”

The gun pointed at Sarah’s head.

“Your turn, son,” my father said. “Don’t worry. She’s warmed up for you.”

The barrel nudged her temple.

Her voice shifted after Reed and Max seized her.

No more promises of trust. No more comforting murmurs.

Sarah repeated only three words through gritted teeth.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

And I believed her.

The bindings cut off circulation to my wrists.

That didn’t stop me from fighting the leather until I bled. I deserved it.

I deserved worse.

The balcony laced with the iron scent of struggle and the chill of captivity. My father wasn’t satisfied with just hurting the girl.

Through hoarse, pained breaths, Sarah bound our hands with the straps Max kept in the chest within his bedroom. The leather tightened as the gun cracked against her temple.

She collapsed. My father hauled her limp body over his shoulder.

And then they were gone.

Max thrashed against the balcony. His struggles did little to loosen the cuffs securing our hands to the railing. He battered his body until he was black and blue. It didn’t free him. I doubted he cared. He meant to punish himself.

We all did.

Reed strained against the railing, as though he could rip the very pillar from the balcony and free himself.

“I hurt her.” He repeated it too many times through clenched teeth. Tears wetted his cheeks. He twisted his wrist and swore as his fingers ground against the restraints. His finger cracked with a sharp pop. He didn’t react. “Nick, I tried to be quick. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

He sought comfort.

He was my brother, and I should have comforted him.

I said nothing.

The leather bound my wrists the tightest. The last to hurt her, the last to be bound. My father watched as she twisted the straps and offered me no leniency. No tricks.

And yet he still punished her.

The minutes passed too quickly. We lost time trapped within the horrors of our cruelty and the skin-slicing bindings that lashed us to the balcony railing.

We watched as he held her.

Stole her.

Carried her away.

I didn’t want to imagine what he’d do to her once they were alone.

I prayed Sarah wouldn’t regain consciousness until it was done.

But life as a Bennett taught me optimism only encouraged the foolish to hope and the lazy to let opportunity pass. This was an opportunity my father would eagerly receive.

He’d wait until she woke up.

And what we did—what he made us do—would be little more than a prelude to the real horror.

The straps bit into my wrist, deeper and deeper with every sickening twist of the flimsy, worthless scrap of material that prevented me from rushing after her.

Were the cuffs any different from a gun? The leather bound me in place just like the threat of the bullet.