Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance (16 page)

"What kind of drink?" The kid asks me, his face shining with a thin veneer of sweat. There are so many people here that the temperature of the room is easily twenty degrees above what it normally is. I glance over at the fireplace enclosure and see flames blazing. It must be for atmosphere since it is in the low seventies outside. It's just like my mother to make something look good at the expense of comfort.

"I don't care. Something strong," I reply, tapping my fingers on the table and scanning the room for my mother. She will know something is wrong with me and confront me over it before I can deny that I'm even acting weird. It's like she has ESP.

"Do you want something sweet or-"

I cut him off and slam my hand on the table. "Whiskey. Big glass. Quickly, please."

The kid looks startled. "Yes, ma'am," he replies, hurrying to the glass bottles set up behind him. He proceeds to pour me what most be the most enormous glass of whiskey ever served at a holiday function. It’s too bad the Guinness Book of World Records people can't be here to record it. The vessel is stunningly large.

"Thanks," I say, immediately taking two large gulps and nearly choking on it. I need to pace myself. It's been too long since I've had access to alcohol like this. I breathe through my nose and the burning subsides quickly. I survey the room which is filled with unrecognizable faces. Then I spot the tall woman I met at the pool yesterday and quickly turn around, hoping she doesn't see me. I dive behind a cluster of cackling women.

I see that this time my mother has set up ample seating for everyone around the room. Plush chairs are scattered about. It looks like how I picture the Gryffindor common room. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Ron and Hermione cozied up in the corner. It's another few moments before I realize I'm looking for Jax. I stand up on my tiptoes and see a flash of his dark hair piled on top of head from behind one of the Christmas trees. I strain to see what he's doing. He takes a step away from the tree and I realize that a thin, stunning, pale-skinned brunette has grabbed the back of his head. They're kissing.

I feel like someone's doused me in ice water.

I am so caught up in my daydream that I run smack into my mother. "Oh, Tessa, there you are!" she exclaims. She’s talking to a distinguished-looking man with white hair. "This is Gregory! He’s Lyle's business partner. He's been dying to meet you!" My mom does a double take when she sees my face; I was aiming for a look of being interested. I’ve clearly failed at that. She knows that something’s wrong with me. I ignore her gaze and turn to Gregory who is staring directly at my breasts.

I grimace and nod in recognition of him, refusing to open my mouth and speak to such a creeper. My mom's eyes are still boring through me. I can tell that she is attempting to read my mind. Gregory is rambling on about something. I can't focus my brain enough to pay any attention. All I can think about is Jax kissing that woman.

Then I hear my mother. "Gregory and his wife Sidney have the loveliest daughter - Samantha. She and Paul were quite serious a few years ago. Oh, she is just a doll. I hope you get to meet her tonight. Lyle tells me she’s the love of Jax's life."

Her words are meant to sting me. Well, she's coming for me at the wrong time tonight, then. Nothing can hurt me right now, not even my mother. My boyfriend and the father of my child is cheating on me. There's nothing that’s going topping that.

"Well, I need to get back to..." I give up trying to find an excuse and hastily turn around, knocking back another three gulps of whiskey from the tumbler. I push my way deep enough into the crowd that my mother loses sight of me. I make my way into the fresh, crisp air outside the house and breathe in deeply. A quiet night by the pool is what I need right now.

“Tessa!” It’s Jillian. She’s perched poolside holding a mixed drink in one hand. A young guy in a business suit has his hand up her skirt. She slaps his hand away and totters over on precipitously high heels. She’s drunk. Wonderful. “I was looking for you earlier!” she says.

I nod. “Mmhmm,” I say skeptically. “I can see that.”

Jillian looks back at the guy in the suit, who is now laid out flat on a deck chair. “I got a little, teensy-weensy bit distracted,” she says with a look of shame. Tears sting at my eyes. Jillian isn’t so drunk that she can ignore this. “Tessa? Are you alright?”

My phone rings and I answer it without thinking. “Hello?” I snap.

“Tessa.” It’s Paul. My stomach drops.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I say.

“Oh God, he told you,” Paul said, exhaling.

“He? Who is he?” I start to say that Paul’s female secretary was the one who told me, but I don’t want to give her away. The poor girl will still need a job when this is all over, and I won’t be the one who gets her fired.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, hiccupping. Great. He’s drunk, too. I knock back more of my whiskey. I clearly need to catch up with everyone else tonight. “I’ve been cheating on you. For a while now.”

“Okay,” I say flatly.

“And I’m sorry,” he says.

“Okay,” I repeat. He’s getting nothing from me. I’ve already given him far too much as it is.

“So…will you forgive me? Please?”

I laugh darkly. Jillian nearly falls into the pool as she attempts to sit next to me. Her drink spills into the water. “Why would I do that for you? After what you’ve done to me? Are you trying to reconcile? Do you still want to be together?” I strangely don’t feel upset. I just feel numb.

“Uh, no. Actually. I’m getting married. I was going to tell you when you got home,” he says.

“Congratulations,” I retort. “May you have a long and happy life together.” I hang up the phone and tuck it back into my dress.

Jillian puts her hand on my arm as tears stream down my face. “What happened, Tess?”

I tell her everything about Paul. She’s trying so hard to concentrate on my words through her drunken state, and I appreciate it so much. I take a deep breath when the story is finished, my tears already dry.

Jillian has a pained look on her face like she’s about to vomit her words all over me but is trying to stop them. “Out with it, Jillian,” I say to her.

She exhales her sentence. “Well it’s not like Paul is Ryan’s dad anyway. Look at the kid. He’s so clearly Jax’s. That’s a relief.”

I almost shove her into the pool.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

JAX

Samantha is gorgeous. Still. I'll give her that.

But I couldn't be less happy to see her if she were currently trying to claw my face off.

Which she nearly did once.

Bad analogy.

"Jax," she says in her rich, husky voice. She flips her sleek, brunette hair off her shoulder. She's wearing a red dress looks like it’s been painted onto her body. The tops of her breasts are puffing out of the fabric, pressing together and forming a line of cleavage that draws my eyes further down her body.

I open my mouth to reply to her but no sound comes out. Before I can collect myself, she's up on her tiptoes and shoving her tongue into my mouth, her hand on the back of my head. I nearly drop my drink glass. Then I push her away. "What the fuck was that?"

Samantha tilts her head to the side. "A hello from an old friend," she replies.

My hands fly up in exasperation to my hair, smoothing it back. It's a posture that I've taken many times with her. Oh Christ. Sam. "What are you doing here?" I ask her, looking behind me nervously as if expecting my father to pop out from behind the tree. I know the answer as the words leave my mouth.

"Your father said you wanted to see me but were 'too afraid to call,'" she says, looking bemused.

A small crowd of rich, white people shove past us as if traveling in a herd. Sam is knocked closer into me, her body pressing up against my abdomen. She looks up at me and bites her lip. There's nowhere for her to go until they pass. When there is finally room to move, I grab her roughly by the elbow and pull her into a hallway off of the living room.

"Rough with me already, huh? You missed me that much?" Sam laughs at her own joke.

I feel a surge of attraction pulling me closer to her again, but my brain knows better. I said never again with Sam and I meant it. "I need you to explain exactly what my father said when he called you here, Sam."

Sam looks around. "Can we go into the cigar room?"

I sigh. Her intimate knowledge of the house feels almost like a violation considering what happened between us. She follows me into the wood-paneled room where I remember the icy atmosphere of the previous night. Someone has started a fire in here.

It occurs to me somewhere inside my alcohol-muffled brain that this is odd, but I push it aside. Sam relaxes comfortably into the armchair closest to the fire. "Aren't you hot?" I ask her, pulling my entire tie off and throwing it on the chair next to me. I refuse to sit down. Something feels odd and I can't put my finger on it. But I'd rather be in a position to move quickly if I need to.

"How nice of you to notice that I’m still hot, Jax." A wry smile crosses her lips. God, I've missed her ridiculous sense of dry humor. I laugh in spite of myself. Sam speaks. "Okay, let's cut to it. Your dad invited me here tonight. Said that you've been going through a tough time and had been isolating yourself again. He said that he thought my presence might make that better." A dark look crosses her face. She stares away from me into the fireplace, the orange flames reflecting in her brown eyes. "I find it a little hard to believe that you need me...considering everything that happened between us."

Flashes of our relationship flood into my mind. I laugh darkly. "Yeah, well. That was a long time ago."

"Long enough?" Sam asks me with something like hope in her eyes.

My shoulders relax. I know that look so well. Every time she comes back to me she has it in her eyes. I always believe that she means it. "Sam - "

"I though you all might be in here."

Any relaxation I was feeling disappears in an instant at the sound of my dad’s voice. Lyle crosses the room in two steps, leaning down to kiss Sam on the cheek. "Glad you could make it tonight, darling," he says smoothly, taking a seat across from her. "I know this was a favorite spot of yours once upon a time. I had the staff make the fire especially for you. It adds a certain atmosphere, you know."

My dad has a smile on his face and my brain is screaming "RUN!" But I'm frozen here. "What the hell is going on, Dad?" I finally muster the words. I feel my fist start to clench, anger shaking my body.

He leans forward. "Well, Jax. After Cassie and I got married, I made some changes to your inheritance. In light of the marriage and your general decisions over the last few years…I thought it appropriate." He leaves the words hanging.

Recognition is dawning over me. "Ah, you mean me refusing to take over the family business?"

"Amongst other things.” My dad stands up and walks over to the miniature humidor, opening the box and pulling out a hand-rolled Cuban cigar. When you're a billionaire, you can acquire anything you want. Except for real relationships. He trims off the end and lights it, puffing the smoke into the air.

I hate the smell of cigars. It's a potent reminder of manipulation and verbal abuse from my father, who would often bring me in here to rip me a new one. I raise my jacket sleeve up to my face instinctively. "What's your point, Dad?" I ask tersely. I realize I've taken one step closer to the door without realizing it.

My self-protective instincts run deep.

He takes a slow drag on the cigar, puffing the smoke out in a cloud in front of his face. "My point is that you are cut off. Until you get married. That means no company cars for your own business. No more allowance. No more credit lines. No business contacts of mine. Nothing. You can stay here, in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Your penthouse is being sub-let until further notice."

The ground feels like it’s dropping out underneath me. "I - what? Are you serious right now?"

Lyle nods his head slowly. "That's correct."

I gape at him. I whir through everything in my head. "And what stops me from just going off and saying fuck you?"

Lyle smiles at me. "Because, son, you are nothing without me. You have nothing."

Sam speaks and her voice startles me. In my shock I've forgotten she was even here. "And that's why I'm here, then?" she asks quietly. I try to read her face but her expression is neutral. By her words she's at least a little surprised at how this is unraveling.

My dad lets out an evil chuckle. I think it’s supposed to sound warm and friendly. "Sam, I've always liked you. You've always been welcome here. I think you were good for my son. He needed direction in his life, and I think you gave him that. I know you had your troubles - " My dad waves his hand in the air in dismissal of the utter shit-show that was mine and Sam's relationship. "But you were young. These things happen. They can all be worked out. Your family is close with mine. We come from the same places. I think we can make something very attractive happen here."

I realize I'm shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

Lyle taps his cigar in an ashtray, a wad of grey flakes crumbling into the dish. "Because I know what's best for you better than you do. You have until the end of this year.”

“That’s like five weeks away.”

My father nods. “That’s correct.”

That's it. I feel like I'm four feet tall and in grade school, standing here in my school uniform and explaining why I want to quit the football team. I can't be in here. I practically run for the door.

Sam immediately follows me. "Jax, stop, please!"

I stop walking, mostly because I remember that if I rush into the living room now I'll be ploughing through drunken socialites with reckless abandon. It will draw more attention to me than I want.

"Would it really be that bad? For us to be married?" Sam asks me, grabbing my arm.

I shake my head. "I cannot believe this is happening right now. Are you seriously asking me that? Sam, why are you going along with this?"

I realize tears are in Sam's eyes. I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and hand it to her. She sniffles and takes it. "Thanks."