Chapter 4
Iwoke from my sleep in my palatial new bedroom, desperate for a glass of water.
Rifling through the bathroom attached to my new room, I came up empty. The cabinet had every kind of cream, shampoo, product, and towel I could ever hope for, but not a glass in sight.
“I need to speak to management about the way they run this hotel,” I muttered to myself, padding across the thick cream carpet that was like walking on marshmallows.
I slipped into the hallway wide enough to host a hockey game, and found it dark and deserted. My three new stepbrothers slept on this floor. Byron had let me know they’d be “just down the hall if I needed anything.” I’d bitten my tongue to stop myself from telling him I wouldn’t be needing anything from his crazy hot spawn, other than to stay far away from them.
As I made my way to the stairs, I was greeted with the sound of bass pounding through the wing of the house. Pausing at the landing, I strained to hear voices, but the steady thumping beat was all that echoed back.
I glanced down at my black silk sleep shorts and matching tank top. Surely I could make it to the kitchen for a glass of water and sneak back up before anyone saw me.
I paused. Why should I though?
This was my house, too. Byron had gone to great lengths to emphasize that point. I was supposed to make myself at home, which meant no skulking around in the dark because I wasn’t wearing a bra or showing a little too much leg.
Screw it.
Bypassing the kitchen, I made my way through the mansion following the growing volume. It was three am, did these guys sleep?
The closer I got, the louder the bass grew, until it was vibrating through the floor and walls. I’d been joking when I’d told my stepbrothers that the house was so big we didn’t need to worry about running into each other, but apparently I was wrong.
I paused outside a set of double doors, the music humming through my body now that I was so close. This was the opposite of staying away from them, which meant no good would come from me walking in there. But did I care about being good right now?
Not at all.
Gripping the ornate golden handle that probably cost more than a car, I pushed the door open, only to have my eyeballs instantly assaulted. The music was so loud inside the room, it pounded through my skull, and I pulled a face, both at the noise and the sight in front of me.
Sinclair and Dacre were seated on an enormous U-shaped sectional, Dacre aggressively making out with a girl who looked a lot like one of the photographer’s assistants from the wedding. Sinclair sat at the far end of the sofa, his arm around a girl in a navy dress that clung to her perfect body. It was clear from her immaculate makeup and sparkling jewelry that she came from money. They were huddled together, talking only to each other, her hand placed possessively on his thigh.
And yet no one in the room seemed at all fazed by the fact that Presley had a redheaded waitress from the reception bent over the pool table and was railing her from behind, her moans of pleasure mixing with the pounding music.
Presley spotted me, his face splitting in a grin that I was quickly learning was his signature. “Hey! Our new sister has come to join the party.”
His hips never faltered as he thrust into the waitress. Her head shot up, and she glared at me.
Don’t worry, girl. The billionaire playboy who’s clearly into public sex is all yours.
“What are you doing here?” Sinclair demanded, his tone flat and unreadable.
The guy was a damn robot.
We weren’t about to hug it out while he reassured me he was the big brother I’d never wanted, but did he have to be such a hardass every time we spoke? Was he happy to see me right now or was he ready to murder me six different ways and make it look like an accident? It was impossible to say. Worse, I found myself wondering if I wanted him to be happy to see me.
The thought unnerved me. I didn’t want him having that kind of power over me.
“I got lost exploring the house, so I followed the pounding sounds vibrating through the floor.”
“You hear that, Pres?” Dacre laughed. “She could hear you pounding Rebecca from the other end of the house.”
Presley chuckled, still moving inside the waitress—Rebecca, I guessed. Rebecca’s cries of pleasure heightened, and I couldn’t help but stare at them. While part of me was disgusted that he was boning her out in the open, it was… kind of hot.
Clearly, Presley knew what he was doing, given the way Rebecca’s face was contorting in ecstasy as she clung to the table. Which was more than I could say for my fun with Trenton earlier tonight. Unfortunately, the warnings from my new step-brothers had been accurate. Trenton did not, in fact, know what he was doing.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Presley called, eyes alight with victory.
“Thinking about what?”
“Your time with the three-pump chump and how much better it would have been if you’d gotten with me.”
I pulled a face. “Not even close.”
Was I that easy to read that my new step-brother who’d only known me for all of a few hours could see right through me? I’d have to work harder to keep my reactions locked down.
Presley’s smile widened, his hips thrusting so hard into the waitress that her whole body slammed into the table, making her cry out.
“You’re a fucking liar,” Presley said, as he maintained a shocking level of control.
“If you think you’ve seen all you’re going to see of Trenton, you’re delusional,” Dacre said from the couch, the girl beside him now kissing his neck like she was going for an Olympic medal in hickeys.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sinclair sat forward, elbows pressed to his knees as he watched me. The girl beside him glanced between us, her expression as equally blank as his.
“It means he’s a pussy who turns into a drooling dog over the girls who get him off. So, you’ve just become his newest obsession.”
“If you were any good at it,” Dacre added with a laugh.
I stared him down. “I’m more than good at it.”
He quirked a brow. “That so?”
I leaned down, gripping the back of the couch. “It’s a shame, brother, that you’ll never have the privilege of finding out.”
Presley’s chuckles filled the room as I strolled for the door.
“Try to keep it down during your tacky sex fest,” I called over my shoulder. “This whole thing reeks of pretty little rich boys whose Mommy didn’t love them enough.”
“Hey!” Presley protested with mock outrage.
But I didn’t stick around to witness any more. I swiped a water glass from the bar on my way out and slammed the door behind me.