Chapter 13
Carter
Bronson’s in love.
When he came to me and told me he’d proposed, I had to hold my face together to hide the shock. I never thought he’d let himself marry.
His face was glowing, his eyes dancing as he spoke of Paige. “She’s like no one I’ve ever met. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Congratulations. Tell me more about her. She’s been so quiet the few times we’ve had dinner, I haven’t gotten to know her as well as I’d like.”
I’ve never seen the man talk so much.
Paige is the tiny woman I’d first seen hiding behind Bronson’s back that night Sasha and I broke up.
The girlfriend we’d helped with the identity theft victims at the old folks’ home.
The one who’d curled Sasha’s hair and helped her serve dishes at Brett’s party.
She’s got straight dark shoulder-length hair and big brown eyes.
Olive skin that melts into a curvy, voluptuous figure.
She’s as sweet as sugar.
Her parents abandoned her on the curb of a New York City street on her eighteenth birthday.
They were off to find their own adventures, finally ridding themselves of their ‘oops’ baby.
Instead of breaking down and falling apart, Paige got help from a guidance counselor from her high school.
She got her medical assistance license and works in a nursing home a few blocks from Bachman’s. She has a heart of gold.
And a criminal’s mind. She has a taste for expensive things. Unable to afford them, she’d taken to stealing them. Bronson, of course has cured her of that. With his firm hand and fat wallet, he’s turned her into a respectable young woman.
Except for the fact that she’s becoming a Bachman. She has no qualms whatsoever with our motto, steal from the rich to feed the poor. In fact, she’s done it herself, taking medicine to her patients who couldn’t afford it.
She’s perfect for Bronson.
Bronson’s changed since meeting Paige. For the good.
As the head of our family, he always seems to be the perfect man. Good-looking as the devil himself, a phrase I’d learned from Sasha’s mom, loosely translated, of course, and dressed like a stud, he turns every woman’s head as he strides down the city streets.
Beneath that fine head of hair, he’s got a brain. He’s highly intelligent. And street smart. He has a sixth sense adapted for this world, which has saved quite a few of our brothers’ lives. Years ago, when the position became available, there was no question Bronson was next in line.
He was born for it. And he’s one of the very few of us that is a bloodline Bachman.
Bronson was one of the few children who were raised in the Village.
His father began taking him on missions when he was still a child. I can’t imagine the things he saw, when my friends and I were out playing soccer in the streets. He was witnessing murders, theft, and larceny.
The day he became head, he outlawed children in the Village.
He dropped a couple billion acquiring land, and establishedthe Hamlet in Connecticut for families. And he stayed single.
Then, Paige.
Bronson was always the fearless leader. Never one to show weakness.
But at times, it made him extremely isolated.
I can count on one hand the number of times he’s come to me for support since moving up to head.
Those times, those moments when he allows me to see he is still human like the rest of us, I call him Braun.
A nickname from when we first met. When we were best friends. A time that seems like ages ago.
Before he became head.
But no one is perfect. Even Achilles had his heel.
In Bronson’s strength is his weakness. He’s created a lonely, isolated world for himself within our brotherhood.
Paige has ended that for him. They go out every night, drinking, dancing. He takes her to a new place every weeknight, excited to share his favorite haunts with her. On weekends, he cooks for her. Spoils her rotten and spends every second with her.
Sometimes he even invites me and Sasha over. A double date of sorts.
The brotherhood is more than happy to pick up the pace, to fill in the gaps while he has his honeymoon period. He’s had his hands tight on the reins, and we’re enjoying having a little room to breathe and do things our own ways.
After moving up the chain, I’ve been better able to see the intense amount of pressure he’s under. He needs this woman in his life.
He’s put his past behind him, and now, he’s engaged.
I’m so glad he’s found her.
Their wedding is coming up fast.
Sasha goes quiet when she hears the date.
Bronson and Paige will be married before us. At first I assume Sasha is angry about losing her place in line. The longer I watch her, the more I realize something else is under it.
We have a sit-down discussion. I want to be sure I understand her feelings.
I start gentle. “Sasha, what is this really about? You know as well as I do that it’s a miracle Bronson is getting married.”
She twists her ring. “I thought I was going to be next.”
I move my hand to the tabletop. Drum my fingertips on the table, keeping my cool. “It doesn’t matter who goes first.”
“I’ve been in the Village long enough,” she says quietly. “Paige walks in and somehow she fits. Mary adores her. Bronson looks at her like she invented oxygen. Everyone calls her sweet and brave and perfect for this family.”
I lean back. “This is not about Mary loving Paige.”
Her shoulders drop. “No.”
“It is about you being afraid there is a right kind of Bachman woman and Paige makes it look easy.”
She looks away. “I hate that you know me that well.”
I say, “You chose to have the long engagement.”
“I know.”
I say, “Paige did not take anything from you. She found her place. You are still allowed to find yours.”
Sasha rubs her thumb over the edge of her ring. “I know. I just wish I didn’t feel like everyone got a manual except me.”
“Then stop competing with Paige long enough to let her be your sister.”
Her mouth twists. “That sounded annoyingly wise.”
“I have my moments. And for the record, Paige has spent the last week helping with your youth-program fundraiser because you asked for extra hands. She is not your replacement.”
Guilt flickers across Sasha’s face.
Good. Not because I want her ashamed, but because I want her honest.
In the past I would have tried to buy the feeling away with a trip or a gift. That would only teach both of us to avoid the real problem.
Not this time.
“Help Paige with the wedding if you want to,” I say. “But I’m not ordering you to be her friend. I want whatever you do next to be yours.”
Sasha is quiet for a long moment. “I need to apologize to her first.”
There she is—the woman beneath the defenses.
I still intend to address the way she spoke to me during this argument, because our dynamic has rules. But kindness cannot be spanked into a person. That choice has to belong to Sasha.
It’s come time for our little chat.
“Baby girl. I’ve tried talking to you. I’ve told you where I stand. I’ve made it clear what’s expected of you.”
She says nothing. Just stares down at her ring.
I stand from my seat, looming over her. “Upstairs. Now.”
Her eyes widen. Her lips try to form a protest.
I stop her before I can speak. With one raise of my brow.
She hurries up the stairs to our room.
I follow behind her. We enter the bedroom. She stands beside the bed. Already looking docile.
I take a seat on the edge of our bed. Sasha moves to stand before me. Her lower lip is sticking out. She’s pouting. I fear she will stomp her foot and I will laugh.
I put on my serious face, taking my firm tone. But she’s adorable and I want to chuckle. I say, “Enough is enough.”
“It isn’t fair,” she says, but there is no stomp this time. “I know that sounds ridiculous. I just wanted to feel like I belonged before someone new made belonging look effortless.”
I shrug. “You shouldn’t have waited so long. You wanted the long engagement.”
She exhales. “This is crazy fast. But that’s Bronson’s decision, not evidence Paige has done something wrong.”
The admission costs her. I can see it.
I wait.
She looks at me. “I was threatened by her. I made that her problem. It wasn’t fair.”
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”
Her chin lifts. “I’ll fix it.”
“We’ve settled what you owe Paige. Now we’re going to settle what you owe this relationship.” I pat my thigh. “Come lie over my lap, baby girl.”
Her eyes widen. Her brows raise. What did she think was going to happen?
I guess she’s still adjusting to her new lifestyle.
I can help her with that.
“Act like this and you’ll find yourself over my lap with your bottom bared.” She doesn’t move. I raise one brow, high. I pat my thigh again. “Over, now. Or it’s the paddle.” She’s reading my face to see if I’m serious.
If I’ll do as I say.
I am. And I will.
What she sees in my features has her suddenly scurrying over beside me.
“There’s a good girl,” I say. She’s standing by my thigh. She’s biting her bottom lip. She’s tugging at her ponytail.
Adorable.
I want to grab her hips and hoist her over my lap. But I’m waiting for her submission. She gives me one long look and takes a deep breath. With trembling limbs, she lays herself over my waiting thighs.
There’s a welling in my chest. She’s finding her way.
I croon, “Good girl.” She settles her upper body on the bed. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into me. I pull down the tight spandex, exposing her ass.
Damn sexy.
I decide to leave her thong on. I like the way it looks.
She’s starting to squirm a bit. My cock grows hard beneath her belly.
I rub her ass with the palm of my hand. Goosebumps rise on her flesh.
Time to address the part that belongs between us.
“I am not spanking you into liking Paige.” I raise my hand.
Her cheeks clench in anticipation. I bring my opened palm down with a satisfying smack.
She moans. Her hips wriggle. “This is for turning your fear into disrespect after I asked you to talk to me.”
“I know,” she says quietly.
“Do you?”
“Yes, sir. I was angry and I took it out on you.”