Deceit of the Stepbrothers (2 Wicked Stepbrothers 1 Innocent Girl 2)

And I feel …

Nothing.

It’s just as crazy.

Just as forbidden.

Just as wrong.

They’re both my brothers.

But I only love one of them.

I let Aiden kiss me until he’s had enough and he rolls on his back next to me, his hand finding mine. I let him murmur sweet nothings into my ear, and I nod and smile in all the right places.

But on the inside, I’m more broken than ever before.

I may kiss Aiden. I may let him touch me. I may take care of him.

But there wasn’t one second, one moment while we kissed, that I didn’t wish those hands he touched me with were his brother’s.

Blane …

Chapter 8

I’m rushing to work the next day. My driver stopped a few blocks away because the traffic was insane, and at this exact moment, I’m cursing every driver in the city as I stumble towards the building in my too high heels.

“Emme.”

One word.

One name.

It stops me in my tracks and I turn around, wobbling on my suddenly shaky feet.

He comes out of a side alley, his hands deep in the pockets of that coat he always wears. His head is down, his eyes hooded with tiredness, sadness, and God knows what else.

But I see right past all of that. I see my Blane.

The man who loved me like a sister, and like a woman as well.

The man who made love to me.

The man who fucked me. Literally, and figuratively.

I whimper, because he’s everything and I am nothing and I can’t form coherent sentences in his presence.

“Can we talk?” he asks in a husky voice.

And even though all my senses yell at me to say no, even though I know it’s a bad idea, I find myself nothing.

Because the ugly truth is …

I would do anything, give everything, for another minute of time with my stepbrother. My lover.

***

We settle in a booth at a coffee place not far away from my building – our building – and we order breakfast. I just go for a chai latte, because I can’t picture eating anything in his presence. Even opening my mouth to order the drink seems to be giving me trouble.

Blane is silent as he drinks his tea, and my glass just sits steaming in front of me. All I can do is stare at him in wonder. I don’t know why he even wants to talk – he hasn’t said a word since we got here.

“So?” I ask impatiently, my words sounding harsher than I mean them to. He flinches and it hurts. It hurts so bad, and yet I can’t make it better. Only he can do that.

He finally looks at me. “I came to tell you something.”

“Yes?” I ask, holding my breath, my hands crossed in my lap.

He pulls his own hands out of his pockets and I fully expect him to reach over for me. But instead, he pulls out a thick envelope and places it on the table in front of me.

I look down, feeling confused. “What’s that?” I wonder.

“It’s for you.” He motions for me to take it.

I do as he suggests and peek inside the paper.

There’s money in there.

A lot of it.

“What is this?” I ask, feeling genuinely confused.

Blane refuses to meet my eye again. “I know you’re taking care of Aiden,” he says roughly. “That’s … that’s all I have.”

He must feel my confusion, because he clears up what he meant with his next words. “Money for him,” he says. “To take care of my brother.”

And in that moment, rage boils inside me. I look at Blane, and for the first time that day, I realize he looks like shit. His eyes are tired and there’s the faint mark of a bruise on one, the remains of a lip split broken still swelling his mouth.

“You don’t think he can take care of himself?” I ask calmly, even though all I feel is anger.

“Come on, Emme,” Blane shrugs, the corners of his lips curling upwards. “It’s Aiden. Sure, he paints but … he’s never going to make a living.”

And that makes me fucking angry, even though I have no right to be.

It drives me insane he’s giving me money, when he knows I’m loaded – at his and Aiden’s expense, no less.

It drives me crazier that he sought me out for this. Not for saying sorry. Not to try and win me back.

To give me this blood money and pretend we’re done now, he’s done his job.

Because that’s what Blane does. He clears his conscience, and then he’s gone.

Fuck family. Fuck the fact we made love, and I know he felt something, just like I did. Fuck his words telling me he loved me. Fuck it all.

I get up abruptly, the bills scattering on the floor. “Thanks, but no thanks, Blane,” I say coldly, and I look him right in his broken eyes.

And there I see the hope, the unasked question, him begging me to forgive him, to make it all better. But I’ve been making it better all my life, and I’ve had enough.

Goodbye, innocent little babydoll.

Hello, ruthless vixen.

“Goodbye, Blane,” I say viciously, turning around to leave. But I change my mind, turn around and place my hands on the table, looking him dead in the eyes. “Just so you know?” I say innocently. “Aiden’s not so much like you.”

My eyes sweep his body. “He’s a better fuck than you ever will be,” I seal the deal. Seal his fate.

And I don’t wait around to see him break, because I’m broken enough for the both of us.

I leave with my head held high, and my heart in tatters at my feet.