I smile and fall into the chair in front of him. “Don’t worry,Eric. I know because you never let us forget it.”
The smile that tugs the corners of his lips with my words is prideful and disgusting. He gets off knowing he has all of us under his thumb—that because he raised us to care for one another so fucking much, we wouldn’t dare do anything to fuck it up. So we follow orders.
“So,” he changes the subject. “Are you ready to do what needs to be done?”
I roll my eyes. “Aren’t I always? I’ll get you your cut of his precious little hotel chain.”
He flashes me a condescending smile. “Great. Jude has all you will need to follow through with the plan. Get with him and get on a fucking plane. I want results by tomorrow morning.” He waves me off with a flick of his fat wrist.
I take the cue and leave his office, heading straight down the stairs, then up the opposite flight to Baby’s room. I bust through his door, proud at the sight I see, but still pissed at the fact he let Jude know who Arloe really is. Who her father is.
The tiny brunette pops his cock from her mouth and stands with a squeal, trying to cover her naked body with her small hands.
“Don’t worry, baby girl, Easton likes to watch.” He winks at her.
I pull my eyebrows together and curl my lip. “Negative, you little shit,” I turn my attention to the girl. “Get dressed and get out. I need to have a moment with my brother.”
She glances between him and me. He’s still lounging on the edge of his bed, dick still out and hard. “Brothers?” She shakes her head. “No. No. I amnotgetting involved with a family that likes to do kinky shit together.”
She gathers her clothes from the floor and runs from the room.
“Really, Baby?”
He lets out a deep breath and shoves his cock back into his pants before zipping them and standing. “What? She was a clinger. I saw an opportunity and took it.”
“You’re disgusting, but I admire your tactic.”
He smiles proudly. “Thanks.”
I return the smile then step closer, slapping his forehead with the back of my hand.
“What the fuck, E?”
“That—” I point to the spot he’s rubbing. “That is for telling Jude about the girl I had you look up. You knew he’d run and tell Dad. What part about ‘make sure no one sees that’ didn’t you understand?”
“Dude, I didn’t tell anyone. Jude just happened to walk in and see the fucking screen after you left. I opened it back up so I could make sure to clear everything. What did you expect me to do? Tell him to get out?” He laughs sarcastically.
I shake my head. “Don’t let it happen again, understand? If I come to you for something, assume it’s confidential.”
“Whatever you say, old fuck.”
I smack his forehead again. “That’s just because I know you won’t do shit.”
I hurry out of the room laughing before he has time to react, but as soon as I’m in the hallway and down all of the steps, the anger inside me from before replaces the lightweight, happy feeling I shared with Ashton.
I remove my suit jacket and lay it over the railing of the steps then slowly cuff my sleeves and roll them to my elbows. One by one, I remove the plain bands on my fingers and replace them with studded ones, luxurious diamonds and rubies, from my pocket.
“Jude!” I scream his name, knowing he’ll hear me wherever he is in the house, and wait.
I hear his footsteps before I can see him. Finally, he emerges from the left, and with one look, he knows exactly what’s going on.
He stops a few feet from me and squares his shoulders. “Are we really going to do this, brother?”
You see, our family may be different in a lot of ways, but in some, we’re just like everyone else. And just like most brothers do, we fight. Of course, family coming first was drilled into our minds from day one, but when you spend so much time with someone, it’s hard to always get along.
And since Dad is anything but traditional, he raised us to be strong, in every sense of the word, and nothing else. Most parents would want their children to grow up to be compassionate. Caring. Outstanding citizens in the world. But not Dad.
If we were scared of a monster in the closet, Dad wouldn’t check and try to reassure us. Instead, he’d give us a Glock and tell us to handle it. A disagreement with a brother? Duke it out. Last one standing with the least amount of blood loss wins.
