Wrong: A Stepbrother Romance

“Thank you.” Abram took the papers from the nurse before nodding toward me. “So you just need to take the IVs out and then I can take her home?”

“Correct!”

I blinked as he turned to call his driver, fixing my quizzical stare at the nurse. She flashed me the brightest of smiles.

“See? Bill’s taken care of. You didn’t even have to look at it. Now you just go home and spend the week getting spoiled by that beautiful husband of yours.” She glanced over her shoulder at Abram, turning back to me with a sigh. “I know today was pretty rough, but all things considered, I think you’re a very, very lucky girl.”

chapter five

Standing was fine but walking hurt. Abram seemed to notice because when we got to the hotel, he rounded to my side of the car and lifted me out like a feather, carrying me to the gated side entrance of the Monarch. I had told him that it was fine to just take me home but when he gave a simple, “No,” I shut up. He was the reason I was in this situation but I would be lying to myself if I said that I didn’t want to be here.

I liked his world.

I felt guilty about it but I had to admit that I found it endlessly fascinating. Him. The hotel. The suited men who floated around, doing things before Abram even had to ask. It was the perfect escape I couldn’t have assembled in even my fantasies. I’d certainly paid a price for it – one I’d probably never agree to if given the chance to rewind – but there was no rewinding or erasing what I saw in the alley, so I let go and gave myself permission to… enjoy this.

It probably also helped that I was on painkillers and just relieved to be out of the hospital.

“Are you hungry?”

I registered Abram’s question seconds after he’d asked it. I was too busy being mesmerized by the exterior of the Monarch. It was unlike any other building I’d seen – sleek and all black, matte in some places, mirrored in others. As we neared it, I gazed at the reflection of Abram’s strong arms wrapped around me, my groggy head resting against his chest. His rock-hard body was surprisingly easy to melt into. Even more surprising, I was letting myself melt into it. This is happening, I reminded myself as I watched him hold me. Still, I couldn’t absorb the moment. The meds were kicking in and I was starting to float away.

I finally gave a slurred answer to his question. “I’m not hungry. How do you live in the Monarch?”

Abram thanked his guy who held the door open for us. “How do I live in the Monarch.” I could hear a smile in his voice as he repeated my question. “I own the Monarch.”

What? I blinked. “You do not.”

“Okay. I do not,” Abram humored me as we entered something that looked like a lobby. But there were no Monarch logos and instead of smiling hotel staff, there were four men in black suits. They were all stoic but the one Abram greeted cracked a sympathetic half-wince, half-smile when he saw me.

“I’m guessing Mr. Kingdon’s in for a world of pain,” he said.

“He already got it,” Abram smirked, reading my mind when I flashed him a curious look about this in the elevator. “Nate,” he clarified before turning to speak under his breath to his guy.

In the penthouse, still carrying me, I remember Abram asking me to eat. But when I wouldn’t, he took me to the room I’d stayed in last time. I was asleep before he even got me into bed.

~

It was dark by the time I awoke. For a second, I thought it was all a dream. Being followed, crashing my bike, waking up in the ER – it was unbelievable enough without throwing in Abram. As my husband no less. I imagined him identifying himself to the nurse. “My name is Abram. I’m here to see my wife, Isla Maran.” The thought put a little smile on my lips, but it fell to a grimace the second I sat up in bed. Every bruise on my body pulsed in pain under my skin.

Struggling, I sat upright, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the mantle. Not the worst. My top lip was swollen at the Cupid’s bow. My bloody stitches, apparently cleaned in my sleep, were now five neat X’s marching in a short, straight line. I’d think they were cute if it weren’t for money and Reece. I could already hear him cutting my shifts because of them. “You know our clientele, Isla. They come here for familiarity. Comfort. The way you look now is going to make them uneasy.”

The painkillers were clearly wearing off if I was alert enough to start worrying again. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I shot a quick email to work before turning my reluctant attention to the missed texts. They were half from Holly, half from Evan. I skimmed them. Both were asking me separately to meet them – Holly so we could “talk” and Evan so he could return my bomber jacket. Though his last few texts took a sharp turn.

considering the reasons you ended things with me isla it feels like you should get why I proposed to holly. You get it more than anyone. Life gets fucking hard and we all end up doing unexpected things to make it easier for ourselves. You gave up your dream job. I got engaged

but that doesn’t mean I won’t always want you.

It doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could be marrying you. you were a million worlds out of my league so I’ll probably never stop mentally reliving the time we had together. And I thank you for it but I still need closure so please call me back Isla. Please.

I didn’t realize my hands were shaking until I finished reading.

God, I should’ve known.

And in the back of my head, I probably did, but just hadn’t had the time to think about it. Evan wasn’t marrying Holly for love but for her family’s money. She had a hefty trust fund and he had massive debt that he’d spent ten years banking on paying off in one shot. Online poker, Powerball tickets, Ponzi schemes – he got suckered into it all before finally pushing me to study pharmaceuticals since teaching would “never pay six figures.” Over time, he became the world’s grandest display of laziness and the last straw for me came when he found out how much I was paying toward Elle’s medical bills.

He spent that day sulking, daring to be jealous of her cancer treatment.

I thought that kicking him out would force him to become an adult but apparently, he’d gone the easy route and proposed to a girl he once refused to so much as dance with while I got our drinks at the bar. “Sorry. I don’t do chicks with Leno chins. Even if they’re your friends.”