Pride and Pregnancy (A Devil's Dragons Motorcycle Club Romance) (66 page)

Mr. Davies looked at me for a very long time. I knew how I looked on the outside—calm, perhaps cold even—but on the inside, I felt like shit. It wasn’t that I had done anything wrong. I was upset because in the four years I’d worked here, I’d failed to change a damn thing about this awful company, and people like Mr. Davies were going to pay for it. None of this would ever come down on Miguel or Ross’ shoulders. It was only nice people, hardworking people who would bear the burden of ExecuSpace’s moral void. And I hated to be the one who had to inflict it.

“My… arm,” he said at last, and I nodded slowly. “But it’s not an issue. I can write just fine. Drive, even. I don’t see what my arm has to do with being a competent salesperson…”

“It doesn’t,” I assured him. “It has nothing to do with it at all. But Mr. Culling feels that the perception of ExecuSpace might be marred by someone who doesn’t look like the rest of us do, and for him, that’s cause enough not to hire you.” I saw the look on his face, the slump in his shoulders, and added: “I really am sorry, Mr. Davies. But after a month of being lied to, I thought the truth might—”

“The truth does
nothing
for me, Miss Hearst,” he snarled, a surprising rage blazing in his eyes. I could see they were watering. They glimmered like hot coals. “A job is what I need. And even a shitty one for a shitty company would have been enough for me. But you people don’t give a shit about men like me, do you? All you see is a withered arm and you think that means I’m trash, that I can just be tossed into the gutter. You didn’t even have the decency to consider me for the position, did you? You just saw the arm. That’s all.”

I pursed my lips. This was exactly what I’d feared. Not only was Mr. Davies upset by the news, but he was taking that out on me, the nearest available target. I had to swallow the compulsion to invite him back to Ross’ office and knock on his door until he opened up, but Miguel would probably just call security and have them haul both Mr. Davies and myself out.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “If you’d like, I can get you the number for our corporate office in Virginia. There’s a woman named Patricia who could hear your complaint…”

“That’s enough,” Miguel said, finally loosening himself from the doorway and practically pushing me out of the way. “Mr. Davies, I’m Miguel Herrera, the general manager for ExecuSpace. Unfortunately, you just weren’t a good fit for the criteria we’re looking for right now. I’m sorry no one’s gotten back to you sooner, but we’ve all been very busy—”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Mr. Davies asked him, his face taut with barely-contained rage. “You must, because as much as I think your receptionist there could give a rat’s ass about what happens to me, at least she had the decency to be honest.”

I felt my own knot of anger and tried not to grimace. “Receptionist” was something of a dirty word amongst personal and administrative assistants. Even secretaries were higher up the food chain. A receptionist was a person who did the least amount of work in the industry, someone who answered a phone and filed a few papers, maybe.
Lacy
was a receptionist—barely. I didn’t appreciate being compared to her.

But I understood that this wasn’t about me. This was about Mr. Davies and his embarrassment at the treatment he’d endured. Though I’d meant for the truth to be helpful to him, I knew that it couldn’t have been easy to hear, and I tried to accept his hatred gracefully.

Miguel, however, was showing signs of cracking. I could see his brow lining with deep wrinkles and the muscle in his jaw was steadily twitching.

“Sir, I assure you, what Miss Hearst has said is in no way representative of our company’s values or beliefs. She is
obviously
misinformed.”

“Then why?” Mr. Davies demanded, his voice rising. “Why won’t Mr. Culling return my calls? Why did you decide not to hire me?”

Miguel sneered. “We’re not under any legal obligation to disclose that. In fact, our HR department discourages us from—”

“Fuck your HR department!” Mr. Davies railed, getting so close to Miguel’s face I could see spittle marring his skin. “And fuck you!”

Before Miguel could retaliate, Mr. Davies left, storming off through the doors to the elevator with steps that shook the office floor.

As the weight of his anger dissipated, I felt another sensation flooding in. What I had done was, objectively, the right thing. I’d given a man honestly when no one else would, and I’d stopped being the whipping girl everyone wanted me to be. I’d stood up for myself and for my own values. But at what cost?

Miguel turned to me. I raised my chin, doing my best to look confident, but not smug. I was preparing to defend my decision when the words I’d been dreading left his mouth.

“Get your things and turn in your key card. You’re fired.”

Almost without thinking and with shock softening the blow, I removed my lanyard and threw it at him.

“You can’t fire me. I quit five minutes ago.”

I grabbed my clutch from the front desk, turned, and strode out the doors, following Mr. Davies. Miguel was yelling something at me, but I couldn’t hear him—probably some clichéd movie-villain line about how I’d “never work in this town again.” He seemed like the type.

The blood rushing in my ears was deafening, and I could feel my body quaking as I pressed the button for the elevator car. Equal parts relief and dread seeped into me, but I tried not to let either one win until I heard Lacy’s shrill voice calling to me over the baritone roar of Miguel’s furor.

“But Maddy! I don’t know what all you do! Send me an e-mail with everything once you get home, okay?”

And then I finally let the dam burst. I laughed.

And as the elevator car finally reached my floor, and as it descended to the next, and the next, I laughed and laughed some more.

My laughter died as soon as I hit the lobby.

It wasn’t until I’d shown myself out through the revolving door that I realized the tears brimming in my eyes weren’t the funny ones. They were hot and stinging, tears of rage, desperation, and utter despair. Soon I realized that I really wasn’t laughing at all anymore, not even in that hysterical way people do when they feel like they’ve got nothing else they can do to chase the pain away.

No, I was sobbing. Sobbing so hard it hurt, so hard my chest felt like it would split in two, so hard I was sure I could feel my ribs starting to cave and poke at my lungs.

I was standing on the sidewalk of one of the busiest streets in the city bawling my eyes out in the afternoon rush. Cars and taxis whizzed by too fast for me to see anything more than the blur of their movement, but somehow I was certain that the dark eyes inside them were all on me. Passersby craned their necks to ogle at the crying woman slowly wandering toward home, fascinated by me like I was some kind of moaning spirit haunting 47
^th
Street, a jilted bride still searching for her lover or a desolate mother seeking her long-lost child.

They made the whole thing feel more dramatic than it was, but for the most part, they all left me alone. That was fine by me. The last thing I needed at that moment was a stranger’s pity.

I steadied myself for a moment on a parking meter near one of those pruned-just-so trees cities put up along the sidewalks to imply they weren’t
completely
destroying the environment. It was every bit as fake as the offices I used to pretend to work for. I could feel cold sweat making long trails down the lines in my palms despite the shade, and my chest felt like someone had taken the muscles and stretching them out paper-thin. I knew what it was. I’d experienced it before. In fact, panic attacks had become a common occurrence since I’d started working at ExecuSpace, and even Zoloft couldn’t seem to keep them at bay. Human beings weren’t meant to work the way ExecuSpace expected them to. Human beings weren’t meant to endure such constant, debilitating stress.

As I sucked in long, slow breaths, I tried to entertain myself with happier thoughts.
It’s for the best. Think about your health. Think about your peace of mind. This job couldn’t have been good for you. Even if it was putting food on the table, who’s to say that you wouldn’t end up in the hospital for stress a few months down the line? It’s not like they offered health insurance. You were one medical disaster away from being destitute, anyway…

It was all true. But the fact remained that I wasn’t one medical disaster away from financial ruin anymore. Now, thanks to a rage that had been building for far too long and a mouth that didn’t know when to seal itself shut, I was already there.

I changed tracks on my train of thought, trying to get a grip on something solid—a plan, maybe. The damage was done, and there was no way to undo it, but what I could do now was find a way to move forward.

I knew the job market. I’d been searching for a replacement position for months now in secret. I’d only had one interview, and that position had offered even less in the way of compensation. Still, I was sure I could find something, but time was a factor, and I had no safety net.

That particular thought made my vision blurry and my blood boil. It didn’t have to be like this…

The reason I had no safety net had a name, and it was
Mother.

My mother, Amanda Hearst, didn’t believe in being supportive. She believed in “tough love,” as in, “you better not screw this up, honey, ‘cause you’re on your own.” She had made it clear to me from a very young age that my mistakes were my own. My successes, however, she attributed to her stellar parenting.
Classic
mother.

“Those other kids failed because their parents let them,” she’d tell me, her carmine lips twisted into a smug smirk. “If it wasn’t for me and how hard I’ve pushed you, you would be just like them.”

I had comforted myself for a time with the idea that she was only that hard on me because we were broke. We were the kind of broke that nobody liked to talk about—lower middle-class, just poor enough to scrape by, but somehow too wealthy to qualify for any kind of assistance. My father had walked out on her when I was just a baby, and for years I told myself that his abandonment and the way the system has spurned her had made her feel like if she didn’t teach me to rely on myself—and only on myself—then I would fall to the same fate. She didn’t want that for me, I always thought. She just chose to show it in a cold and hurtful way.

That illusion had shattered three months ago when my mother had announced her engagement to Charles Harvey, the billionaire CEO of Harvey Enterprises. I had no idea what their business actually entailed, but whatever it was, it brought him more money than God, and as my mother was oh-so-quick to inform me, I wasn’t entitled to a penny of it.

“I didn’t raise you to be a leech,” she’d told me when I’d said that it would be nice not to have to worry about money for a change. I hadn’t meant that I intended on blowing it on some kind of shopping spree. I’d always wanted to finish my college degree, and work was getting in the way…

That didn’t matter to her.

Her scowl had sent chills down my spine and twisted my guts into knots. “You’re not an infant, Madison. You’re an adult. That means you make your own way in this world.” She’d looked so devastatingly disappointed as she added, “I thought I’d taught you better than that.”

In my anger, I’d asked her what, exactly, I would have to do to be worthy of a little help every now and then. It felt like she’d punched me right in the face when she answered, “Marry rich.”

I’d realized then that my mother had never had my best interests in mind. My father leaving hadn’t made her protective of me. It had made her protective of herself. It had made her selfish and cruel, and I hadn’t spoken to her since.

Which was why I couldn’t call her now. I couldn’t dial her number and say, “Mom, I need help.” She wouldn’t give it. I doubted if she would even bother to answer the phone.

As usual, I was on my own.

I was still trying to achieve a stiff upper lip when I let go of the parking meter and set off down the sidewalk in the direction of home. Unfortunately, the moment I did, I barreled straight into a man who’d had the misfortune of stepping between me and my downward spiral.

His chest was so hard under his button-down shirt that I was sure he’d broken my jaw, but the material of his blazer was so soft that it felt like I’d landed on a cloud. It was silken, almost, and as I gently pressed it with my fingers, tilting back my head to look up at who I’d just assaulted, I felt his breath hitch at my touch.

As the halo of the sun faded behind a cloud, I got a good look at the stranger’s face. My throat clenched and I uttered a sound that was half a snort, half a wheeze.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Maddy,” he said, his stormy blue eyes glittering as he spoke my name. “Well, this is a surprise…”

I wanted to tell him to fuck off. I wanted to push him away and sweep past him in a fit of disgust. I wanted to walk so fast down the sidewalk that I left all memory of him in my wake, a spoiled brat who got absolutely everything his heart desired while I couldn’t even manage to convince my own mother to keep me off the streets.

But I couldn’t do any of that. Instead, to my shame and horror, I buried my face in his expensive blazer and cried.

I
stood on the sidewalk
, frozen in place as Madison Hearst cried into my chest, her delicate shoulders racked by the sobs stealing from her throat. I wasn’t used to hanging out with a lot of crying women, but I knew enough to know that these weren’t tears of pain or sorrow. These were hot, angry tears, tears of rage and frustration held in so long that the damn had burst, and now they had to come spilling out.

I grimaced before gently placing my arms around her. I’d shed a few of those kind of tears myself in my life, and it seemed like offering her the comfort I’d always been denied was the right thing to do, no matter how awkward it might look to the people surrounding us.

It wasn’t just that Maddy was crying, though I was certain that was strange enough on its own. What really made me feel like a spectacle was the fact that we were brother and sister—or at least, we would be in just a few short weeks.

My miserable fuck of a father was marrying Madison’s shrew of a mother. They may have deserved each other, but I held onto the opinion that neither Maddy nor I deserved either one of them. It rendered us stepsiblings, which I had assumed would count for something, but up until this moment, I’d been one hundred percent sure that Madison hated my guts.

Everything she’d ever done had practically screamed it. She looked at me with nothing but disdain, and each time I entered a room with her in it, the temperature dropped at least two degrees. She only offered me curt, clipped responses whenever I tried to strike up a conversation, and that was only if she chose to speak at all. I wasn’t certain what I’d done to deserve her ire, but whatever it was, I’d been under the impression that there was just no reversing it.

As a result, I’d given up on having any kind of relationship with my soon-to-be stepsister. And who could blame me? Yet here we were, locked in an embrace on the sidewalk of a busy street—and in broad daylight, no less.

Something had to be wrong. I knew she’d worked in some kind of office nearby, but was she coming to see me? If she was, something had to be
seriously
wrong. It occurred to me that it could have something to do with one—or both—of our parents.

My breath caught in my throat, but before I could ask, she lifted her face again and said, “I lost my job.”

I looked down at her, noticing for the first time how very green her eyes were. If she were any other woman I probably would have been looking straight down the neckline of her blouse, but something about Maddy’s face had always struck me as celestial, angelic. That wasn’t to say I didn’t appreciate her womanly body, those supple curves that made me wish our parents had never met the very first time I’d seen her... It only meant that those rare and beautiful eyes were the most breathtaking pair I’d ever seen.

Which was saying something, because I’d looked into the eyes of
a lot
of women.

I didn’t tell her that. All I could think of to say that didn’t sound incredibly stupid was, “I’m sorry.” And then, as soon as those words left my mouth, I realized that they
did
sound incredibly stupid. No wonder she hated me.

But instead of fixing me with that frigid stare she’d inherited directly from her mother, Maddy shook her head and said, “Don’t be. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault…”

That thousand-yard stare she was sporting made me uneasy. I didn’t know a lot about her job, except that she’d worked as an administrative assistant for some rental company, but I got the impression that Maddy definitely didn’t have a lot of money. She’d never said as much, but her mother sure as hell had implied it. It was almost as if that woman wanted her daughter to fail, like she got no greater joy in life than watching Maddy flounder. It seemed a little wrong when she was spending her days milking my father for every dollar he was worth.

I shifted uncomfortably. Maddy suffered a hardship I’d never known. I came from money, and lots of it. In fact, if it weren’t for being the sole heir to the Harvey fortune, I wouldn’t have had to work a day in my life. But Dad insisted, and when he made his mind up about something, there was no changing it—not even if it made everyone else around him miserable.

Hell, especially
if it made everyone miserable.

“I was just on my way to a meeting,” I said, and that was mostly true. Jane, my personal assistant, had texted me to let me know she was running hot, as usual. That woman was crazy in the worst ways. Maybe I was stupid for sticking my dick in psycho, but I was a hedonist—and a glutton for punishment. Especially when it came at the hands of a buxom redhead in a leather cat-suit… She knew it was over, but that wasn’t stopping her from blowing my phone up with one filthy picture after another today. Part of me wondered if I was meeting up with her to affirm it was over, or to fuck her sideways…

Maybe both.

Thing was, though, my escapades with Jane were beginning to take their toll on me. What started in unpredictable and unlawful ways had started to get dangerous. Suddenly, she wanted more. Maybe it was all the pressure she was putting on me to meet her parents and take her up to the Hamptons for a “romantic getaway.” It was her way of trying to make us something official, but we weren’t, and no matter how many times I tried to explain that to her, Jane just didn’t seem interested in getting it.

That was probably some kind of red flag. I probably should have cut things off with her a long time ago. But if it was all going to end messy anyway, what was the harm in drawing out the good parts a little longer than I should?

Maddy was staring at me. The little flame of hope flickering in her eyes died, snuffed out by my careless words. I scrambled to regroup, to find something to say that didn’t sound like I was brushing her off.

Because honestly, I would rather have spent the day with my distraught stepsister than deal with the crazy shit that my crazy secretary was doing in my office. It was weird to admit it, even to myself, but it was true.

“Okay, let’s start over.” I took the Bluetooth earpiece out of my ear and thrust it into my pocket so the steady stream of notifications I was getting from Jane couldn’t interrupt me. “You’re clearly having a bad day, and there’s a café I like about a block from here. Let me buy you lunch.”

She opened her pretty mouth, and for a moment, I was sure she was going to deny me. But then she nodded, lifting her fingers to her face to brush away the tears still brimming in her eyes.

“I
am
hungry,” she admitted softly.

I smiled. Realizing we’d been holding one another in the middle of the sidewalk for several minutes now, I released her and swept her up beside me, pressing my hand into the small of her back. Maybe that wasn’t an appropriate brotherly reaction, but it was instinct and I was new to this whole stepbrother thing. Besides, I’d touched my share of pretty girls that way.

One thing was different with Maddy, though. When I touched her, I felt something stir inside of me, something like tectonic plates moving and shifting under the surface. And below that, there was something flowing and hot, something that made me notice suddenly the smell of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, the way her ass just barely brushed the side of my hand as we walked, the fabric of her stylish pencil skirt clinging to both those ripe, gorgeous swells above her shapely calves and thighs.

Those heels, too—my God. If they didn’t scream “fuck me,” I wasn’t sure what did.

But those were just thoughts. Silly thoughts. The kind of thoughts that came to a man at inappropriate times. Like when he was hanging out with the one girl in the entire world that was completely off limits. Totally normal.

Right?

Either way, I needed to get rid of them. This was probably my only shot at actually getting my stepsister to like me, and I wasn’t about to let my traditional male stupidity fuck it up.

It didn’t take long to reach the place, and I was already starting to relax as I led Maddy in through the front door. Without saying a word, the hostess had noted our arrival and ushered us in to my regular booth.

“I thought you said this place was a café?”

I looked around. I’d been to this place dozens of times, but somehow it seemed as if I’d never really looked at it before now. The walls were paneled in dark cherry wood with accents of crimson damask paper that looked like it had been imported from Europe. I’d have bet that if I’d touched it, it would’ve felt just like silk. The gold highlighting the pattern was probably genuine too, and looking at them now, I had no doubt that the amber crystals adorning the chandeliers were Swarovski-made, or similar.

I shrugged, handing one of the menus our server had provided over to Maddy. “It is. Just a ritzy one.”

She looked around at the tables surrounding us and fingered the neckline of her blouse. “I feel like I’m underdressed…”

“You’ll be fine,” I assured her. “You look fine. I mean, beautiful. You look…” I ground my teeth, trying to regain my composure. “You’ll fit right in.” Then I opened the menu and buried my nose in it, inwardly kicking myself for how utterly stupid everything I’d said today had thus far been.

“What should I order?” Maddy said, and I realized she probably had no idea what half the things on the menus were. I set mine down and began to unbutton my blazer to drape it over the back of my chair.

“If you like lighter fare, anything with chicken is a good bet.” I finally freed myself of the constraining jacket and sighed in relief. Finally I could feel my biceps again. “If you’re more in a dinner mood, there’s always the beef bourguignon.”

“I think I had the TV dinner version of that once,” she laughed, her eyes flitting over the myriad of items listed for her. “Um… I’ll go with that, I think. Yeah, that sounds good.”

I smiled. It felt good to see her without tears in her eyes. “And some wine?”

“You pick,” she said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” She slid her menu over to me and I took it, stacking it on top of mine.

“You can start by telling me what happened with your job,” I offered. Even though it was mid-day outside the mood lighting inside cast shadows over Maddy’s face, shadows that seemed even darker when I mentioned the dreaded j-word. “I mean, if you want to, of course.”

“I do,” she said. “I’m just so embarrassed…” She took a sip of her ice water. When she pulled the glass away, I marveled at the tiny beads that had formed on them.

She licked them away, and I watched the progress of her tongue, hoping she mistook the intensity of my stare for interest in her story.

“It wasn’t a good job,” she said, meeting my gaze. “But it was all I had. It paid the bills and the rent… and frankly, not much else.” She laughed again. This time, it sounded bitter. “That was enough for me, though. At least until I found something better.”

I nodded, parroting what I’d heard others say. “It’s hard out there right now.” I had no real idea about any of that, of course, and Maddy called me on it.

“Yeah. Not all of us can have an in with the CEO of one of the world’s most profitable companies.” But then she swallowed her anger, even though it lit up her face in a very sexy way. “Well, anyway, I’d been putting up with a lot of shit over there. More so recently, though the past few years hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park, either.” She looked at me. “Do you know that the first day I was there, the receptionist who was supposed to train me left for lunch and never came back? I had four hours’ worth of training before they threw me to the wolves.” She shook her head in amazement. “It’s a wonder I survived my first six months, let alone four years…”

“Sounds like they don’t have a clue what they’re doing,” I said, and that much was a genuine commentary on the matter. I had learned enough from my father, not to mention Harvard, to know an incompetently-run business when I saw one. Or, in this case, heard of one. “You were probably lucky to get out.”

Maddy snorted. “Yeah, in one way, but what about the other? I’m broke, Preston. Or I will be once I handle my bills and rent this month. My lease isn’t up for another eight months, and if I break it early, I’ll owe my landlord
thousands.
” She continued to fret until the waiter came over to take her order. As she struggled with remembering the name, I interrupted.

“She’ll have the beef bourguignon with your Chateau Musar 2011 Jeune Rouge. Bring the bottle.”

Maddy finally seemed to relax some at the promise of wine. Or at least, she did until the waiter turned to me and asked, “And for the lady’s date?”

I laughed. It wasn’t meant to offend Maddy, but I could see her cheeks flush. I waved my hand. “No, no. We’re not… she’s my sister. Well, she will be, anyway.”

“I see,” the waiter said. “My apologies. What can I get for you, Mr. Harvey?”

“The twelve-ounce Wagyu A5 Kobe, served New York strip-style,” I said. It was one of my favorites. Most people were told to order a day in advance, but I wasn’t most people. “With the regular sides.”

“Very good, Mr. Harvey,” he said. It seemed strange that he knew my name but I couldn’t remember his face, let alone anything else about him. The hostess probably tipped him off. That’s just good service. The waiter took our menus and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen while I turned my gaze back on Madison.