PULSE: A Stepbrother Romance (27 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.

MADISON

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!”