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Chapter 1
Damon
“Fallon!Conrad!”Ihearmy stepfather yelling as I step inside the house. It’s not overly large, but big enough that I shouldn’t hear his shouting from the front door. I don’t walk further inside right way. I need to enjoy the last few moments I get to myself before I’m bombarded by my “family.”
I use that term loosely. These are just three men I share a home with. I have no blood ties to them. Just the love for my mother and the sense of obligation I have to her memory. I really hate being so sentimental.
Counting backwards from ten, I pull in a lungful of air. I wait for my family to realize I’m here—I only get to five. I’m hit with a cacophony of words, each man shouting different things at me.
My stepfather, James, ends up being the one to shout his demand at me first. “You need to go to the boutique and grab our suits for the ball. They close soon, so you need to get going.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what he’s done all day besides staying holed up in his office, acting important. Okay, heisimportant. As the top litigator at the biggest law firm in the state of California, he is a pretty big deal.
To everyone but me.
To me, he’s one of the men that makes my life insufferable. But a promise to my long dead mother and the fear I feel keeps me deeply rooted where I am. In the deepest pits of hell with no escape anytime soon.
With nothing else to say, I nod and drop my messenger bag beside the door. No need to put it in my room or lug it back to my car. I want to separate from the workday, even if it’s just leaving my bag behind.
I turn to leave, but my oldest stepbrother, Fallon, grabs my bicep. It would be stupid to try to shake him off. That would only earn me a bruise and a week or so of his small taunts and endless tasks. Endless tasks from Fallon are constant, but the ones he gives me when I piss him off are always hard and long.
Fallon’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of my arm, and I fight not to wince. He loves inflicting pain on me. Any sign of weakness and I’m in for a world of hurt. “You need to cook dinner. I’ve been waiting for you to get back all day. There’s beef in the fridge for you to make whatever you made the other week.” He lets me go and walks off.
I glance up at James and he gives me a smirk and leaves as well. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to get the suits now and face Fallon’s wrath later or make dinner and hope James is too pleased with a full belly to give me shit. The lesser of those evils is making dinner. At least James doesn’t hit me.
Last but not least, Conrad corners me. I back up to the door until I’m almost flush against it, the bun in my hair the only thing that’s keeping me from pasting myself to the surface. It’s times like this that I consider cutting my hair.
He cages me in with his arms and leans to my ear. I fight not to shiver in disgust, holding perfectly still so he won’t get any ideas.
What he’s doing is in no way sexual in nature. He’s just an asshole that knows I’m disgusted with him and his family and does everything he can to make me uncomfortable.
When he has me visibly riled up, he whispers, “You fucked up my new sweater when you did the laundry the other day. There are white stains all over it. You owe me $650 for a new one.” He pushes off the door and roughly pats my shoulder, sending me into the wall beside me.
After he saunters off, I lean back against the door and close my eyes. Why is this my life? Why do all these men hate me?
I’ve wanted to leave for years, but the voice of my mother before she died, telling me to take care of her new favorite men always holds me back. I thought I could get away once. I thought I had a friend that could possibly help me out.
Abel had come into my life like a whirlwind, blowing through and showing me that there were people that liked me forme, not for who my stepfather is. In fact, Abel didn’t even know who he was when we met. He treated me like a real friend and I valued that more than I could say. The day before I found out about his tragic demise, I planned to call him to ask if he could possibly let me crash with him and his boyfriend for a bit. I had finally gotten up the courage to pack some things to leave, going somewhere even James couldn’t get to me—into the home of the biggest drug and arms dealer in California.
Probably not the smartest move, but it would have given me time to get out of the clutches of James—to get stronger so I wouldn’t come back—even though there is nothing keeping me here but fear. Abel would have been able to help me untangle everything and stay away from a place I wasn’t wanted.
But I chickened out that night, saying I would call him the next morning when I was thinking clearly, when I had some time to sit on it and decide if it was the right move.
Even if I had texted Abel the night I wanted to leave, it would have been too late. The next morning, the identity of the bodies found in a warehouse that had exploded was released and one of them was Abel Reynolds. Along with him were his boyfriend and bodyguards, and a slew of Russian and Irish drug dealers.
After reading the article, I felt like it was a sign that this is where I belong. I’m too much of a coward to go anywhere on my own. And if I did, what would I do? Where would I go?
No, this is obviously where I belong and I’ll have to make the most of it.
Shaking those depressing thoughts away, I make my way to the kitchen, pull the beef out of the fridge and get started on dinner.
While I’m cooking, my stepbrothers and James make their way to the kitchen, speaking animatedly about a charity ball. Fallon’s voice booms out, making me jump when he walks behind me to get to the refrigerator. “There’s supposed to be some guy there that has his foot in the door for senator. Didn’t your boss tell you he would throw support your way?” he asks his father.
James sounds smug and I have to clamp my muscles down so I don’t cringe. He sounds so slimy when he talks like this. “Yeah, well, I think I have that figured out. Let’s just say, after the ball, he won’t be an issue.”
Conrad speaks up. “What do you mean? Is he dropping out of the race?”
James laughs and pushes past me, using a fork to taste the shaved beef I have cooking for the steak quesadillas. “No,” he says to Conrad, then turns his ire on me. “Hurry this up. The store closes in an hour and I want our shit tonight.” He tosses the fork on the counter—even though the sink is right beside it—and walks back to the kitchen island. “I’ll tell you more after the ball. For now, just know that soon, your dad will be a senator of this great state.”
