Prince Albert (A Step-Brother Romance #4)

Chelsea raises her eyebrows. "How could I?" she asks. "You're screwing your own brother and you want to know how could I? I was just scouting a new job; I had no idea the two of you would set things up so nicely for me. Perfect timing, I have to say. Your father will be pleased."

My blood is fucking boiling, but Delaney is the one who looks like she's going to explode. She walks up to Chelsea and slaps her so hard across the face that the sound echoes in the hallway. Chelsea puts her hand to her cheek. "You stupid, spoiled bitch. You're going to fucking regret that," she says. Then she directs her attention to me. "And you – you white trash, entitled, lazy shit. I knew there was something wrong with you when you turned me down in Vegas. It turns out you're only into girls who are related to you."

"Fuck you, Chelsea," I say. I don't hit women, but if there were ever a time I'd consider it, it would be now. I reach for Delaney's arm, but she shakes me off.

Chelsea storms past us, around the corner, and I can hear her hotel door slam.

"Delaney, I –" I start, but she won't look at me. I can see tears on the side of her cheek, and I swear to God my heart is going to fucking rip in two at the sight of her crying.

"I told you not to carry me up here," she says, her voice angry. "Everything is ruined."

"Your father is not going to listen to that stupid bitch," I say. "I'll talk to him too."

She shakes her head, walking to her room, and I follow her. "Don't you get it?" she asks.

"Get what?" I ask. "That Chelsea is a power-hungry whore who's trying to get back at you because you're smarter than her and better at this than she is? That she's pissed because I wouldn't screw her, and that she just fucked up your father's deal? I get that, Delaney. Now let me inside so we can talk about this."

"You don't understand what just happened," Delaney says, shaking her head. "Chelsea told Akira we couldn't make dinner. She gave him some bullshit excuse to get us out of the way so she could sweet-talk him into hiring her or something, and then he sees us like that? It's horrific."

"It's not ideal," I agree. But horrific?

"Not ideal?" she says. "It's the worst possible thing. We embarrassed Akira-san. We humiliated him. He can't possibly do this deal now. It's completely ruined. The company is not going to sponsor you. We killed everything."

"We can explain," I say. "Let me come inside your room. Let's talk about it rationally."

"There's no explaining," she says. "There's no apologizing our way out of it. He can't accept our apology. It won't allow him to save face – it's too embarrassing. It's over."

"Your father will understand," I say. "You're his daughter."

Delaney laughs, the sound bitter. "And you're going to talk to my father?" she asks. "What are you going to say exactly? Hey, Beau, I know she's my sister and all, and your daughter, but I've been lusting after her since you and mom got married. And oh, by the way, I've been fucking her brains out. Let me know how that goes."

Fear clenches at my heart. "We should talk about it." I don't know what else to say.

"There's nothing to talk about, Gaige," she says. "Goodnight."

Anger and adrenaline are coursing through my veins, and it takes everything I have not to push the fucking door open and storm into her room and force her to listen to me. Goddamn it, she has to see reason.

But instead I let her close the door, and I walk away. The door shuts with such a fucking sense of finality that I'm rendered almost speechless, and I stand there in the hallway, my blood pumping as I think about how the world just fucking shifted on its axis in a matter of seconds.

Delaney doesn't answer when I knock on her door in the morning, and I return to my room with a sense of unease I can't shake. Delaney looked just so…crushed last night.

Her last words to me echo in my head, rattling around in my brain on a loop, repeated over and over.

Goodnight, Gaige.

It sounded a hell of a lot more like goodbye.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN





DELANEY


The knock on the door in the morning startles me. When I answer, my hair plastered to the side of my face, no one's there. I barely slept last night, gutted over what happened. I wonder if Chelsea is on her way back to Texas already, the bearer of such fantastic fucking news that my father will probably have a coronary.

I need to call my father. I don't know how to explain any of it. I really can't face him.

And I can't face Gaige, either.

How can things go from being so high to crashing down so low in a matter of minutes? Last night with Gaige, I was happy. I was deliriously, irrepressibly, recklessly happy. A part of me knew it wouldn't last, just like part of me this morning longs to go to Gaige, to tell him that it doesn't matter, that we shouldn't give a shit what anyone else thinks.

Except it's Gaige, the guy who doesn't spend time with women outside the bedroom. The guy who doesn't date. Perpetual manwhore, always risk-taking, never-going-to-grow-up Gaige. And the most important part – my step-brother. What the hell would I say to him?

I think I might love you.

The realization nearly takes my breath away.

Then I know what I have to do.





GAIGE