Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (40 page)

Fucking shit. Here it comes. I can't roll my eyes fast enough. Too bad it doesn't shut him up. I tune out for half his rant.

“Living like a monk at the goddamned library...ass in chair, coding like a monkey, building Spree line by line and struggling to earn a thousand dollars a month...I swear, son, you just don't get it...you'd blow your stack and run the minute you stepped a single foot into a room full of fucking angel investors!”

It all washes over me. We both know it. Hearing him drop a rare F-bomb snaps me back to attention. I take a few steps backward and start laughing.

Dad looks like a damned grenade about to blow up and shower me in shrapnel. His fists are pressed tight to his gray slacks and they're trembling. He's not man enough to punch me – sometimes I wish he would, just so we'd finally have it out at a level I can actually understand.

But no, I'm not intellectual enough for him. I'm not a suit-wearing workaholic. I'm not rich enough. I haven't pissed away the best years of my life licking other rich dudes' assholes, and shitting my pants every goddamned week over some new lawsuit or fresh regulation or profits for the shareholders.

“And what would you do if another guy walked up and smashed you right in the face, right fucking now?” He's looking at me like I just threatened him.

Well, fuck it, maybe I did. I'm not gonna be the one to break my old man's jaw – even though he's begging for it. Somebody else out there is bound to do it for me one day. I can practically hear the old karma train chugging away in the background, hungry to chew pricks like Dad up and shit them back out.

“I'd walk away before that ever happens,” he stutters. “I'd...I'd call the police.”

The crap coming outta his mouth makes me laugh all over again. I can't help it. If this weren't deadly serious, I'd be rolling on the goddamned ground.

“What, are you a hyena now? This is why I've got to treat you like a child, Ty. You haven't grown up yet. It looks like you never will.”

“At least I've grown a fucking backbone.” I can't stop growling, and the droning in my throat only quickens when I see the disgust rippling in his eyes.

“You've wasted half your damned life stacking up coin and never doing shit with it. I know I'm gonna get a call one day from some asshole underling who's found you slumped over at your desk.” I pause. “As much as you piss me off, I don't want that to happen. I wish you'd let go and pull the stick outta your ass just once. The world doesn't need us to be the perfect model billionaire family. It just needs us to be real.”

“Real?” He throws his hands up and paces a lap around me. “What is it with you and that word? What the hell do you know about the real world, anyway? I've given you everything, Ty, and you've taken it all for granted. The six-figure prep school you flunked out of, the summer jobs at my company you blew off, the club I helped you land for a bargain in Seattle...I gave you
too
much.”

That makes me snort like I'm fucking drowning. It's just as well, seeing how I need to eyeball the water, or else I might end up punching him in his arrogant shit face after all.

“You didn't give me crap after ma died. Not anything that matters. You gave me food, shelter, clothing, the trust fund. You gave me tutors who tried to ram shit down my throat I wasn't interested in. You gave me all the tools I'd need to become a carbon copy of you. And that's
all
you ever wanted me to be.”

Hatred flickers in his eyes like smoke. The fact that he doesn't have an instant comeback says it all.

I've hit the spike and driven it deep. Too damned far to deny because it's true.

“One thing we'll both agree on,” I say. “You're more stubborn than I am. You won't stop trying to carve the perfect fucking family and make me into the golden boy you always wanted, even when you ought to know it's too late for all that. You want everybody in this damned house being your props for the perfect PR campaign. You won't just chill and accept this shit for what it is. You're too big an asshole, Dad. Hell, if you'd shut the fuck up and accept I'm never gonna be standing in line to take over Spree when you're gone, maybe I'd give you a pass for picking up your DC gold digger and pissing on Mom's grave!”

Near the end, the filter connecting my brain and my mouth snaps. It's too much, even for the bastard giving me the evil eye. I don't expect him to seriously do it – but he fucking does.

For the first time in a long while, Dad surprises me. He moves real fast, and something hard smashes me right in my bruised jaw.

I tumble back. It's all shock and awe. I've been hit by bigger, badder guys hundreds of times. But the fact that I've actually moved my old man to physically strike for the first time in his damned life is like the sky coming down.

I reach up, touch my lip, and I'm bleeding. He's hit pretty fucking hard for a guy who spends all day at meetings. I wipe the blood away and grin, making damned sure he sees what he's done.

Dad jerks his finger out and stabs me in the chest. “You want it this way, buddy, then you got it. You'll never call her Mom. You'll never respect her. Fine. But you will
not
insult my wife to my face. Understand?”

I'm almost sorry if he weren't such a giant cock. Still, I manage to nod, and he jerks away.

I listen to his footsteps fading behind me and don't turn around 'til they stop. I'm wondering why I haven't heard the door close, and it's because he's still standing there, looking at me like I just stomped mud across his precious Turkish rugs flown in from Istanbul.

“I've been wrong about you. Everything I've given you...it's only held you back. It's poisoned you, Son.” His voice is low, cold, robotic. “You've got until the end of summer to pack up your things and leave the state. Make some tough decisions, and do it without me and my dirty money, Ty. I'm selling your club. I'm setting you free. And if I find out you've done
anything
to upset Mandy, Claire, or – God help you – my company, I
will
have you prosecuted and locked away. I don't care if you're my own flesh and blood. You're a sick animal, son, and there's nothing more I can do for you.”

I'm fucking stunned. Gutted. I can't believe it's taken me so long to see the fighter instinct is genetic.

Except, unlike the combo punches and gut busters I use to take down my opponents, my old man rips hearts out and pops them in his withered hands.

It's all over quickly, so freakishly fast I can't decide whether to rush him and choke him 'til he passes out, or else fall to the ground and puke my guts out.

He's gone before I can do jack shit. The door pops open and slams shut behind him, rattling the heavy glass.

I've got half a mind to pick up the deck furniture and start throwing it through every hand-crafted window pane lining the back of the house. But fucking up my old man's castle won't really do shit. It'll satisfy my monkey brain and nothing else.

It won't take back what just happened, it won't fix anything, and it sure as shit won't extinguish the firestorm he just hurled on my head.

I'm fucked.

Shit, I'm past wanting the asshole to change his mind. He whipped his dick out and swung it, forever reminding me that I'm a goddamned worm without him and these riches I'm supposed to worship.

Forget it. Damn it.
Fuck it.

There's nothing left to do except what I came out here for in the first place. I tear my shirt off and drop my pants. Then I run to the pool and dive in buck naked.

I swim fast, furious, and hard as I can, splashing water all over the place. When my limbs are full of fire and my lungs don't wanna pump anymore, my mind's clear enough to start thinking about all the decisions I should've made years ago.

Nothing but the swim keeps me from burning myself alive.

I've got a hundred questions and no good answers. First thing on the list – where the fuck can I go that'll still have waters as clear and crisp as this to clear my head in?

I
wake
up more rested than I've felt for years. Guess there's something about having the weight of this insane attraction to my step-brother lifted that makes all kinds of things easier.

And no, after last night, he's not just my cocky, foul mouthed step-brother. He's become my lover.

He's stopped just short of claiming me the deepest way a man can. More importantly, he stopped when he could've taken me, leashed his desire because he cares.

Nobody else ever helped me when I'm sick or drunk except a few close friends like Dana.

Sure, Mom used to do it, but it was always somebody else's job like the housekeeper she hired during her long sessions in DC.

I wake up feeling like a billion dollars for the first time since I moved into this mansion. All the pieces are in place, and that makes me smile. It doesn't fade when I'm in the shower and freshening up. It's so nice to throw on a t-shirt and shorts after my first week wearing all business attire.

Breakfast is next on my list, but first I want some fresh air to help feed the cozy afterglow heating up my brain. I head down the hall to the big glass panels leading outside, hoping the morning chill has faded by the pool.

It's a lovely place to sit and I really haven't enjoyed it enough this summer. Lucky for me, there's still time to enjoy lots of things before the Washington's infamous rainy season creeps in.

I'm almost to the door when I see someone moving in the pool. One quick glance at the smooth, shapely muscles delving through the water like it's nothing tells me who.

It's Ty. And he's – holy shit – completely
naked.

My body heats with the same delicious energy running through my veins last night. I was buzzed, pretty fucked up really, but I remember perfectly how amazing he felt. Actually, I'm relieved to find out it wasn't just the alcohol and the close call with the Swede that made everything so intense.

No, I'm feeling it again. Something's changed.

I fold my fingers in front of me and clasp them tight, all I can do to relieve the tension building in my muscles.

Jesus. I didn't think it was possible to want another human being so bad, but I do.

The thick glass between us muffles sound, but I swear I can hear his lungs chugging, hot and heavy like a grizzly bear running down a rival. He moves the waves aside like he's Moses, plowing through the waters effortlessly.

Damn, if only Moses had bulging biceps and savage ink on his skin. I'd have paid more attention in church when I was little during Mom's half-hearted, short lived attempts at passing on my grandmother's faith.

I study him, admiring the raw power and grace in his body. It's hard to believe this is normal for him. He's always out there, always training for the next match, a born fighter who won't hesitate to use all that muscle to protect what's his. And apparently, that now includes me too.

It makes me giddy.

Somewhere in the excitement, I notice his face. It's scrunched up in a furious, painful looking way. Fear sparks my heartbeats faster.

At first, I want to run out and yell, ask him if he's all right. But his laps are steady, and I don't believe he'd stay in the pool if something were really wrong. He certainly wouldn't be circling round and round like a shark.

No, it's not his body that's hurting. It's something inside him.

Ty proves me right a second later when he stops, slicks back his messy brown hair, wiping the excess water away. Then he tips his face to the rising sun and screams, fists in the air, bobbing in the water. He's roaring the same way I imagine a man does when he's shipwrecked and knows he's totally adrift, hopelessly severed from civilization.

Alone.

I need to help him. I reach for the door, put my hand on the knob, and freeze just before I open it.

The war cry ripping through the glass is over, and it's quiet again. But something about this new silence
scares
me.

I've seen him upset. I've seen him act like a total ass, watched him wreck a man for putting his hands on me. This rage pouring out of him is somewhere else on Ty's anger spectrum, some dark, evil place I can't comprehend.

No, this is different, and it scares the hell out of me.

I bite my lip and step back, too afraid to go out there. What will he think if I'm intruding on him like this? It might startle him just when he was opening up, destroy the wonderful thing we had last night when it's barely begun to flourish.

I'll find out what's going on. Just not until he's out of that pool.

Scurrying away from the door, I head upstairs and get another surprise. There's no breakfast laid out for me like most mornings. Strange because Joan's been so good about it, and so has my mom. I'm about to head into the kitchen to see if the billionaire might have an emergency Pop-Tart or two when I hear voices.

They're hushed. Angry. Serious.

“Are you sure about this, Gary? It's rough out there for a young man. I can't imagine doing this to my Claire.”

“Damned right. I've made up my mind. The boy's had his hand held too much. He's twenty-three years old, for Christ's sake! Sure, he works hard at that club, but he's never learned to work smart. He's used it as a personal playground with his women, his drinks, and those ugly charity fights. It's an embarrassment. Frankly, I'm surprised we haven't all been shamed by the media spotlight by now. It's a nothing short of a miracle.”

I stiffen up against the wall. They're talking about Ty, and I've got a sickly feeling it has everything to do with why he's swimming himself ragged and cursing the sky.

“Gary...I don't know. Maybe he just needs some time away. A different job could do him good, something away from the alcohol and testosterone. I could land him something. Lord knows I've pulled enough strings for Claire, and it won't hurt me to get back into touch with some of the folks I'm going to need on my side for the race next year.”

My heart sinks like an elevator. God. I don't want to believe that I'm just as privileged as poor Ty and my own work's just as worthless in my mom's eyes, but there it is. It hurts.

“No,” Gary snaps. “My mind's made up. Your compassion is a virtue, Mandy, and I love it. But mercy isn't going to get him anywhere. He's had his chances. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not more upset. Your daughter came home stinking drunk last night – that's totally out of character, isn't it?”

“Claire's a young woman,” I can hear my mother shrug. “I trust her. She's got a lot to learn, sure, but she'll work through it the same way I did. Trust me, Gary, there are far bigger mistakes a girl can be making at her age than having a little too much fun at the bar.”

Fuck.
How do they know? Did Joan see Ty bring me in? I can't believe the housekeeper would willingly rat on us, even if she did see something she shouldn't have.

Some seriously bad stuff went down, and I've got a feeling it has everything to do with Gary making threats. Hell, if he's ready to turn his own son out, why wouldn't he threaten the older woman's livelihood?

I didn't like the man Mom married before, but this seals the deal. I fucking hate him.

And he's still droning on about how it's all Ty's fault. Something about how he couldn't get over losing his mother, despite the billionaire's best efforts. He makes himself out to be such a martyr.

I can't seriously believe Gary ever gave a shit. Not with this tone.

“It's a good thing our kids are grown. Well, yours is, anyway,” Gary adds, fueling the angry heat simmering in my blood. “I think we'll have to agree to disagree about our parenting styles. Ty's my son, Mandy, and having him out of our hair really is the best thing for everybody. Claire doesn't need his bad influence. Neither does your campaign, and you'd better believe I sure as hell
don't.
I've put up with it for more than twenty years, and I'm done.”

That's it then. Exile.

Christ. How long do I have left with him? He could be gone by the end of the week for all I know. Gary's crazy and cruel enough to do it.

I can't take it anymore. I walk into the kitchen and rip the huge stainless steel fridge open, making sure Mom's kefir and kombucha bottles clang together.

Their voices stop. I pretend I'm looking for my breakfast as Mom trots in, concern lining her face.

“Oh, Claire. I didn't know you were awake. I would've had Joan set something up for you...”

“I'm good with cereal, Mom. Hey, are we out of milk?” I'm so flustered I don't see it.

A large hand reaches past me, deep into the second shelf, and pulls out a tall glass bottle. Creamy white and all organic. What else? Everything in this house has to perfect, especially when it's run by the asshole staring at me.

“Here you go, Claire.” Gary's smile is so fucking fake it makes me want to spit in his face.

We lock eyes. I can't hide the dark anger undoubtedly swirling in mine, and I'm sure he can see it. He gives me a sharp look, like he's on the verge of chiding me, but then he purses his lips and scurries out between us.

“Sorry, everyone, I should've left for Seattle half an hour ago. I'm going to be exceptionally late if I don't get out the door now.”

Mom takes a long step after him like he's forgotten something. Probably her kiss goodbye. Gary keeps going, and doesn't look back before he's out the door.

I feel bad for her. But I'm not sorry I missed seeing their gross morning kiss under these circumstances. She turns back to me, brushing away the worry pulling at her features with a big, politically correct smile. Diplomacy's in her blood.

“You'd better rest up today, honey. I'm surprised you were out so late after losing your first Saturday to overtime.”

I shrug and bite my tongue as cereal crashes into my bowl, followed by a generous splash of milk. I've got to admit, the food in this household isn't bad, even if it's as guarded and selectively picked as everything else here.

“There's got to be some time for fun in the career world, right?”

My mom belts out an anxious laugh, and then quickly catches herself. “Oh, of course! Don't let work consume you, Claire. Seriously. It's okay to let loose a little.”

She gives me a stern look. I give her nothing more than a shallow nod. I still can't believe the utter shit I overheard.

I'm not in the mood for taking any motherly advice. Not today. Sure, she offered a little resistance to Gary, but nothing that would put teeth into him for screwing over Ty.

Why do the assholes always have to get away with it?
Why?

Funny, I realize I used to think of Ty as Prince Asshole less than twenty-four hours ago. But I guess I've been wrong all along. There's more of Prince Charming than I thought in him, and I've been overlooking King Dick the entire time.

Mom mutters a few more bits of small talk my way. I mostly shrug and don't respond.

She finally gets the message and heads somewhere else. I eat my breakfast slowly, nursing my stomach after the rough night.

It's a miracle my body didn't collapse after the drunken bender. Not to mention what went down in his car later that night.

God damn it.

Just thinking about it makes me tingle. I remember how hard his hands squeezed my ass, how he pushed his face between my legs with such reckless abandon. We were so close to going all the way too, if only my exhaustion hadn't ruined it.

His mouth was amazing. How incredible would his dick feel inside me? Would he fuck me hard and fast, or would he fill my pussy with deep, long strokes?

My legs shift uncomfortably under the breakfast bar just thinking about it. I have to help my cereal down with some jasmine tea I quickly brewed up on the Keurig. Thinking about sex with Ty scorches me, robs the air from my lungs without him even being in the same room.

I don't know very much about sex, eager student that I am, but I know it's got to be rare for a man to live up to his wild reputation.

So fucking rare.

And the idea that I might never feel how good those lips feel on mine, much less anywhere else, ever again really pissed me off. I can't let this crap with his dad get in the way of
us.

I wrap up my breakfast and set my dishes in the sink, then take a long walk through the mansion before heading downstairs. I should go shopping or something to lighten the load on my mind, but I can't, knowing he's here.

I head down to my room and read for a while, keeping my ears perked up for any movement in the basement. I'm deep into this article for work about grizzly bear restoration in the Cascades when Ty's door swings open and slams shut. I hear him stirring through the wall, making quick, angry movements.

It's hard to believe he can move after taking so many vicious laps in the pool.

It takes me a minute to gather my courage. I get up and step outside, slowly closing my door behind me so he can't hear. I hesitate when I walk the few steps to his door and hold my hand over it, ready to knock.

Too slow.

Before I can make a single tap, Ty rips the door open with a
woosh.
It's so sudden and rough I jump, holding one hand over my chest like a startled old granny.

Ty snorts with amusement. “What the hell do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

He nods, steps aside, and slams the door behind me. I walk deeper into his room for the first time, trying not to lose my mind. His scent is everywhere, masculine and sexy and overwhelming.

Crap.
It takes me a second to remember I'm actually here to talk to him.

“Hey, I heard some things this morning,” I say softly, meeting his furious eyes. “I saw you swimming when I got up. You were so angry. I didn't understand why until I went upstairs and heard our parents talking. Gary's got it in for you bad, he's –“

Ty holds a hand up and storms past me, crashing his butt down on the bed. “I don't wanna talk about that fucking jackass. I know what's he got planned. It's no loss. The swim helped me make up my mind.”

Why the hell is he so hard to talk to? I'm getting frustrated, mostly at myself for being so flustered. I step forward and sit next to him on the bed, gingerly laying a hand on his shoulder.