Stepbrother Claims (His Twisted Game, Book Four) Read online

  Stepbrother Claims (His Twisted Game, Book Four)

  by Chloe Hawk

  Copyright 2015, Chloe Hawk, all rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in this book are eighteen years of age or older.

  COLE

  I watched Avery leave my office that first morning, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to go after her.

  Her tits and ass in that dress made my cock rock hard. All I could think about was taking her – in her pussy, her ass, her mouth.

  She was perfect and beautiful and so damaged and fucked up.

  I was damaged and fucked up, too.

  But it was too late for me. I was never going to change. My scars went deep, and they were too ingrained for me to become something other than what I was.

  But Avery had a chance. She could get over her past, she could move on and become whatever she wanted. She was bright and gorgeous and young, with unlimited potential.

  I was bad for her. Forget all the shit that was going on with my company, all the danger she knew nothing about that could put her life at risk.

  No, it went deeper than that.

  Avery was the exact kind of fucked up that my kind of fucked up was drawn to.

  I needed her by my side, needed to protect her and make sure she was taken care of. The problem was, the biggest thing I needed to protect her from was me. But when she was around…

  The blood rushed to my dick just thinking about her, spread eagle on the bed last night, her knees pushed up, my mouth diving into her pussy. She tasted so good, the perfect mix of salty and sweet.

  I’d wanted to slide the head of my dick inside of her so badly I could hardly take it. I kept thinking about pushing through her center, imagining the way she’d feel stretched out around the thickness of my cock. But once we crossed that line, there was no going back.

  After I fucked her, I would just keep pushing it. Making her strip on command. Tying her up. Spanking her. Fucking her so hard and so long she’d be left quivering and raw.

  I’d already pushed it too far last night, pinning her wrists like that.

  I just didn’t know how long I was going to be able to take this kind of torture. Her tits, her ass, her lips… no matter what she was wearing or what she was doing, all I wanted was to gather her in my arms and hold her. And if she was anywhere near me, I could feel myself getting hard.

  I thought about sending her home. But how could I send her back there? Gordon would take out whatever fucked up grudge he had against me on her. The night I’d left, he was getting ready to cross the line with her – I’d seen it in his eyes. The only reason he hadn’t was because he knew I would have fucked him up, maybe even killed him.

  But now the stakes were higher. Back then, he’d gotten to keep Avery. Now she was with me. I’d stolen her from him, at least in his mind. He’d stop at nothing to get her back, and once he did, who knows what he would do?

  My hand went to my waist, to the place where I’d had her initials tattooed on my hip. Even then, I’d known I’d needed to stay away from her, known I needed to resist the urge to go back home.

  I could feel the scar my father had given me, raised just a little under the tattoo. I’d specifically gotten inked there to make sure I knew exactly what it was I was protecting, so that I’d never make the mistake of going back for her.

  No.

  She needed to stay here for now.

  I would just have to control myself, would have to make sure I kept her safe without crossing the line.

  I’d gotten to my position in life by working hard and doing whatever it took to get shit done. I could certainly use that self-control and determination to make sure I didn’t hurt Avery.

  She was more important to me than anything.

  Even so, as soon as I made my decision, a vision of her tied up on my desk flashed into my mind, my hands grabbing her big tits while I fucked her.

  But I forced myself to put it out of my mind.

  I needed to take care of her.

  And if that meant denying myself, that’s how it would have to be.

  AVERY

  Kalia was a brat.

  She’d spent the whole morning blowing up my new company cell phone, asking me when I was going to be done filling out my HR paperwork so that she could start training me.

  It wasn’t my fault I’d spent all morning in the HR offices filling out forms, taking surveys, and getting my picture taken for my employee ID. It was a long process, and her bothering me every two seconds wasn’t going to move it along any faster.

  By the time I was done in HR, it was lunchtime. For a moment, I was afraid Kalia was going to insist I come back downstairs anyway, that she’d make me work right through the break. But apparently she coveted her own lunchtime and thought it was more important than torturing me, because at noon on the dot she sent me another text.

  “Lunch for one hour. Please be back here by one sharp, as we have to prepare for the photo shoot.”

  I frowned. Photo shoot? What photo shoot? I wanted to ask, but something about the way the text was worded made me feel like Kalia wanted me to ask for details so she could act all annoyed that I didn’t know anything. It was like something from The Devil Wears Prada.

  But Kalia was no Miranda Priestly. She was just an assistant, like me.

  And I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d gotten to me, even a little.

  So instead I just wrote back: “Sounds great! Looking forward to working with you.”

  I couldn’t understand what Cole saw in her. Was it just because she was blond and skinny and pretty? Was that enough? Jealousy burned through my body, hard and deep. The thought of him kissing her, his mouth on hers like it had been on mine last night, made my stomach turn.

  They weren’t together anymore, I told myself as I slid my phone into my bag and walked out of the HR office. Of course, Cole wasn’t with me, either. There was nothing stopping him from being with someone else. And he probably would be. If there was one thing I remembered from growing up with Cole, it was that he grew bored extremely easily, always ready to move on to the next woman without a backward glance. Eventually, he would grow bored of me.

  Which is why it was so infuriating that he thought he could treat me like some kind of slave, and keep me locked up in this office building without even having to explain the reasons why. He didn’t have a right to do that. He didn’t have a right to tell me who to talk to or who to hang out with. He wasn’t my father, he wasn’t my husband, he wasn’t even my boyfriend. I wasn’t a child.

  So I told myself I shouldn’t feel guilty as I got onto the elevator and rode it down to the lobby and then stepped out onto the streets of New York. Things were even busier and more hectic now than they’d been this morning, and I marveled at the fact that so many people could fit into such a relatively small space.

  I glanced down at my phone, scrolling to the text Jeffrey had sent me with the address of the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. The place wasn’t far from the office, which actually made me slightly nervous. The last thing I wanted was to run into Cole, for him to find out I’d defied him. The more distance I could put between us, the safer I’d feel.

  The restaurant was called RIDE, and it was trendy and upscale, the kind of place I would have been intimidated to even walk into by myself. The space was done in a bicycle theme, but it had an industrial loft feeling to it, with metal beams criss-crossing the ceiling and dark grey walls. Black and white prints of bicycles were hung up all over, and the high-top tables were mad
e of black metal spokes with matching backless lacquered stools.

  Instantly, I became self-conscious.

  The girl standing at the hostess stand looked more like a model than a hostess, with a slicked-back ponytail and deep red lipstick.

  “Can I help you?’ she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m meeting someone here.”

  I scanned the room for Jeffrey, but I didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Name?” the hostess asked.

  “Avery Buchanan.”

  She glanced down at the open reservation book in front of her. “Your party doesn’t have a reservation.”

  “Oh. I mean, it’s probably… the reservation is probably under Adams.”

  She checked again, then reached down and pulled out a menu that looked more like a fancy bound book. She turned and began walking toward the back of the restaurant. After a moment, I followed her.

  Jeffrey was sitting at a two-top, talking on his phone. When he saw me, he looked up and gave me a big smile. He was wearing a crisp white shirt tucked into perfectly-cut navy blue pants. He looked so normal. No one would have been able to guess the disgusting things he was capable of doing.

  “Hey,” he said, ending his call. “I’m glad you came.” He was trying to sound nice, but I wasn’t going to fall for it.

  I slid into the seat across from him, trying not to let my dress hike up as I climbed onto the stool.

  The waiter appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He also had the look of a model, that sort of heroin chic thing that a lot of people in New York seemed to have going.

  “I’ll have an IPO,” Jeffrey said. “Avery? What are you drinking?”

  “Just some water with lemon,” I said.

  The waiter nodded and left to go fetch our drinks.

  Jeffrey grinned. “Really? You’re dry now?”

  “No, I’m not dry now,” I said. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to be drinking during the work day.”

  “Really?” Jeffrey asked, sounding amused. “Cole’s got you on a tight leash over there, huh?”

  You don’t even know the half of it, I thought.

  “No,” I said haughtily, before realizing I might have to make it seem like I was annoyed with Cole if I wanted to pump Jeffrey for information about him. “He’s fine. I mean, he’s… you know, he’s Cole.”

  The waiter returned and set our drinks down on the table. “I’ll give you a moment with the menus,” he said before leaving again.

  “What do you mean, he’s Cole?” Jeffrey picked up his beer, ignoring the frosted glass next to it and taking a long swig straight from the bottle instead.

  My phone buzzed on the table next to me before I could answer.

  Cole.

  Where are you?

  I sucked in a breath. Did he know I’d left the building? Or was he simply asking because he was worried and wanted to know exactly where I was?

  “Is that him?” Jeffrey asked.

  I picked up my phone and turned it off before sliding it into my purse. Ignoring Cole filled me with a delicious feeling of rebelliousness. He thought he could do whatever he wanted, like the way he came into my bedroom last night and then just up and left after having his way with me. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could leave someone waiting.

  “Yes,” I said to Jeffrey.

  “You know, Avery,” Jeffrey said, taking another long, slow pull of his beer. “You need to be careful working for Cole.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jeffrey looked around, like he was worried about people hearing us. The restaurant was about half full, but the only other people back in our section were two guys dressed in khakis and button-downs who were sitting at the booth next to us. They seemed to be in a heated debate about something having to do with their bill. One guy was trying to tell the other guy he owed ten dollars more.

  I tried not to roll my eyes. Those guys knew nothing about what it was really like to be worried about money, knew nothing about what it was like to scrounge through the couch cushions on a Sunday morning just so you might be able to find enough to buy a box of cereal.

  They didn’t know what it was like to look forward to going to school because you might be able to get a hot lunch and duck out of the lunch line before you got to the cashier. They didn’t know the shame of being so hungry you’d wait until the baked goods at the market three miles away switched over to being half price, then walk there in the cold with a quarter in your pocket, just so you could buy one doughnut, forcing yourself not to wolf it down because your stomach was so empty it felt like it was eating itself.

  “I mean that Cole is… “ Jeffrey broke into my thoughts, leaning across the table toward me. “Avery, has Cole ever told you anything about where he got his money?”

  “What money?” I asked, frowning. “His money is from whatever profits his company makes.”

  Jeffrey shook his head and pulled at the label on his beer bottle. “No, I mean, where he got the money to start his company in the first place.”

  “I assumed he got it from investors.” Isn’t that how it worked? You had an idea for a business, so you got some rich investors to give you money, and then they owned part of your company?

  “Well, yes,” Jeffrey said. “But do you know who the investors were?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Jeffrey asked, leaning in even closer to me and looking me right in the eye. Everything in me recoiled, my instincts screaming at me to get away from him. Scenes from that warm summer day flashed into my mind. Don’t worry, Avery, he’d said. Girls like you do this, just accept it. His warm breath on my face. The way he held me down. The flash of the camera.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to keep my eyes on his. “Yes, I’m sure.” I was sick of this double speak. I took a sip of my water and tried to calm my heart. “Are you saying Cole’s company is in trouble?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m saying that Cole… Avery, have you ever heard of a girl named Lucy Caro?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve never heard Cole mention her?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so.” I filed the name away in my memory. Lucy Caro. Was this Lucy Caro someone who had information about whatever Cole was hiding?

  I wanted to ask Jeffrey more, but he was looking down at his menu, and so I did the same. I couldn’t seem like I was pushing him. I needed it to seem like he was in control of the conversation.

  I slid my eyes over the food choices -- almond risotto and parmesan crab cakes and salmon with truffle oil. It all seemed so fancy. I didn’t know what to order, and I was distracted by the men at the table next to us, who were still arguing over their bill.

  “That’s bullshit,” one of them said. He was tall, with blonde hair and a broad build.

  The other man was slight, with a beaky nose and pale skin. He stood up from the table and threw his napkin down. “I’m out of here,” he declared.

  “No fucking way,” the other man said, and before I knew it, he’d jumped out of his seat and grabbed the beak-nosed man by his collar. Beak Nose tried to push him off, but the blonde man pushed him hard into our table.

  I shrieked as our table upended itself onto the floor, my water spilling as Jeffrey’s beer bottle shattered into shards of glass. The two men began fighting, the blonde man pummeling the other one with his fists.

  Other patrons of the restaurant rushed over to see what was happening, and Jeffrey grabbed me and pulled me away from the melee.

  A second later, a manager rushed over, and with the help of another customer, pulled the two men apart.

  I was panting, my breathing heavy and adrenaline coursing through my body. I had that same panicky feeling I always got whenever I was exposed to violence, my stomach turning and my head light.

  “Are you okay?” Jeffrey asked once the men had been thrown out of the restaurant. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I’m okay.”

&n
bsp; “Fucking idiots.” He reached down and stood our stools back up.

  My heart was still pounding, my pulse racing, my face flush. Suddenly, all I wanted was to get back to the office. I wanted to go to Cole, to have him tell me it was going to be okay, that I was safe.

  You should have listened to him, Avery. You should have never left the office.

  I went to grab for my purse, so I could get out of there, but the table was still sitting on its side. The floor around it was a complete mess – spilled water, glass, scattered silverware, and a torn tablecloth.

  “Do you see my purse anywhere?” I asked Jeffrey, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Are you sure you had it here?” He picked up the table and flipped it over so that it was sitting right side up. But there was still no sign of my purse anywhere.

  “It’s gone,” I said. “Someone stole my purse.”

  “Are you sure?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Yes!” I said. I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  I turned and ran out of the restaurant. When I was out on the sidewalk, I took in deep breaths of fresh air in an effort to calm myself. How was I going to explain this to Cole? Pretty much everything I owned was in that purse.

  A second later, Jeffrey appeared behind me. “Avery,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Back to work?” Jeffrey asked, and I thought I saw something flash over his face – panic? But a second later, it was gone, replaced by concern I could tell was fake. “What about your purse? Don’t you think you should call the police?”

  “The police?” The thought had never occurred to me. Police were people you needed to stay away from, not people you would call voluntarily.

  “Yes, so you can get your bag back.”

  “I’m not sure…” I said.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you to the police station.”

  I hesitated. I really did need to get back to work – but then again, if there was even a small chance I could get my purse back, didn’t I need to take it? I still had more than half an hour of my lunch. Maybe I could fill out a report and still make it back to the office before my break was over.