Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) by Celia Loren Read Free Book Online Page B

learn
that my father is a master manipulator. Every word he says has been carefully
chosen. I tried to learn how to do it, because I had to admit it was a useful
skill – the man always gets what he wants. But it never worked for me. Maybe
he's right, maybe I am too emotional.
    "Deal," Carter says after an interminable pause.
    "What!?" I explode, jumping out of my chair.
    "Excellent," my father replies.
    "I'll need full access to the security center—"
    "HEY!" I yell. "I don't like being talked
around like I'm not even here, and I don't like people making my decisions for
me! I don't want anyone following me around!"
    "It's either Carter or Roger and Lewis," my dad
says calmly, looking down his nose at me. "And the two of them aren't very
good at fitting in," he says, pointing to the window. Roger and his new
compatriot, both wearing black suits, are standing on the patio facing us. They
both stick out like sore thumbs. Roger nods at me almost apologetically.
"And Carter is one of the best. Trust me. I checked."
    I glance at Carter, wondering what the hell his background
is. I open my mouth to say something, but like always, my father has taken
every good point and thrown it in my face. I turn and march out the door,
cursing myself as I go. My father always accuses me of acting like a child, and
then I go ahead and prove him right. It's like he creates the vacuum and I fill
it.

 
    Chapter Eleven
     
    I can't sleep. I feel stifled, like my cotton sheets are
choking me. Angrily, I kick them off, down to the foot of the bed. Not that it
makes me feel any better.
    When I was a teenager, moving my bedroom out here had made
me feel a little more autonomous, like I was out of my father's grasp, but now
it seems he has extended his reach. I stand up and walk around the room, trying
some deep belly breathing to calm myself down. All I can think about is Carter
and him, discussing my fate like I didn't even have a say. I wouldn't have
expected that from Carter, but I guess my dad can make anyone do what he wants.
    I stride over to the window facing the house and pull it open.
The night air is cool and I close my eyes, feeling it blow against my face. I
open them again and spot a mosquito throwing itself uselessly against the wire
screen. Up at the house, a light in the far wing turns on.
    I still as I see Carter illuminated against the bright light
of his bedroom. I glance around furtively, but there's no way he can see me
with the lights off in the boat house. He wears only a towel around his waist,
and I watch as he runs a hand through his now short hair. I bet he was showering
to rinse off all the pesky little hairs.
    I inhale quickly as he whips off his towel, turning to drop
it behind him. I get a glimpse of his ass before he turns to lean on the
windowsill, seemingly lost in thought. I know I'm intruding on a private moment,
but I can't help letting my eyes travel down his body...down the perfectly
chiseled abs to the lines of his hips that beckon my glance even further. Thank
goodness I have 20/20 vision.
    He raises his arm, running his fingers once over the scar on
his right temple, then feeling backward as it disappears under his hair. He
gaze shifts from looking out over the ocean over to the boat house, and I feel
like he's looking directly at me.
    I feel pain and anger swirl up inside me. Not only did he
lash out at me unfairly today, he then completely ignored my wishes and is now
in cahoots with my father. I turn away from the window and hop back into bed,
crawling up from the foot and depositing myself with an angry sigh on the
mattress. 
    When I wake up the next morning, my jaw is sore from
gritting my teeth while I was sleeping. I don't remember my dreams, but I'm
pretty sure they weren't pleasant. I pull on some loose-fitting jeans and a
tank top, and stuff my feet into some slippers. I wish there were a kitchen out
here. That's the one drawback of living in the boat house. At least it's a
weekday, so my father