Bastards and Scapegoats Read online

  Her partner pressed her cheek into the tabletop, and her exposed ass was angled toward him. Her moans were loud and harsh, cutting at my eardrums with splitting cries.

  But my eyes were locked on the muscular backside flexing and poised at her back. He was thrusting into her from behind. Tan, broad, strong. He had dark hair and a tattoo of a detailed, shaded skull staring menacingly at me. With every thrust, his ass cheeks clenched, and the vanity slammed against the wall. “Yes, darlin’ keep going,” he groaned before pushing into her once more.

  “Harder,” she demanded back. I nearly snorted. Any harder and he would be sending her straight through the drywall.

  I watched with an open mouth. The room smelled like sex, and clothes were strewn across the floor in a shocking display of passion. I looked up at the vanity mirror and gasped when I saw a pair of charcoal eyes staring right back at me.

  His mouth was plump and framed by a light dusting of dark facial hair. His jawline was razor-sharp. The brown hair on his head looked like someone had been running their hands through it, my guess Colleen.

  We were locked in an intense stare down. “You like that?” he asked, but I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or Colleen.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  The man smirked while tipping his head back in bliss. It was a sight I’d always remember. His mouth parted. His eyes squeezed shut. Every muscle in his body was flexed. I could feel my heated pulse thudding at the sight of him. My legs shook. I gnawed on my lip.

  “Get out,” the man demanded before looking over his shoulder at me. All snarky playfulness had disappeared. Now he challenged me with his stare. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. What the fuck was I doing?

  I should have argued that this was my room. I should have screamed for the security team stationed at the front door. I should have done a lot of things, but instead, I ran out of the guest room and shot down the stairs like a bullet from a smoking gun. I heard them cry out in tandem as the pleasure of their mutual orgasms tore through them. I went outside as their screams seemed to echo around me.

  2

  The wooden boards creaked under my feet as I walked along the back porch of the Beauregard home. Some of the wedding decorations from the night before were still perched in the yard. The cleanup crew wasn’t scheduled to arrive for another hour, so I felt comfortable sitting in my flimsy silk pajamas on a lawn chair.

  The yard smelled like fresh flowers and insect repellant. I clutched my coffee in my palm, willing my body to wake up as I stared out at the yard. My heavy eyes itched from exhaustion and allergies. I didn’t sleep last night, and though I wanted to enjoy the comfort of my bed, I also wanted to see my mother off for her early morning flight. We’d agreed to have coffee together before she left, and I was looking forward to some alone time with her. The last couple of months had been such a rush that I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been together with just the two of us.

  The back door sliding open caught my attention, and I turned to greet her, pausing when I realized it wasn’t my mother coming outside but, instead, the man from last night. After the wedding was over, I had gone back to my bedroom with a sense of trepidation. Luckily, the couple had vacated my room, but I still asked the housekeeper for new bedding in case they took their wild night from the vanity to my king-sized bed. I spent most of last night thinking about our strange encounter and picturing his flexed body moving in and out of her.

  I quickly smoothed out my petal-colored silk pajamas and sat up straighter, realizing my nipples were probably poking through the thin material of my shirt. Fuck.

  The strange man looked handsome but hungover. He looked like the kind of man to make cherry stems out of women and tangle them up with his talented, twisted tongue. His olive skin had a sheen of sweat on it, and his black eyes scanned the deck before landing on me.

  “Well, if it isn’t my little voyeur,” he said with a grin before smoothing his shirt and licking his lips. “Did you enjoy the show last night? Come back for an encore?”

  He bit his lip while sweeping his charcoal eyes over my exposed skin. I flushed at his words. “I didn’t mean to watch,” I stammered. Then, I remembered that I wasn’t the sort of woman to be flustered fuckless by a pretty man. “You were in my bedroom, you know.”

  He sauntered over to me. “Your bedroom, huh?” he asked while scratching the back of his neck. The movement showed off the curve of his muscles. I exhaled. “Last I checked, that was my bedroom.” He clutched his shoes in his other hand, eyeing the empty chair beside me. “May I?”

  I wiggled anxiously in my seat, a fresh but foreign desperation dictating my movements, and he didn’t bother to wait for an answer. The strange man plopped down in the chair beside me and started putting his shoes on. What did he mean, his bedroom? Did he live here, too? I spent three breaths watching the careless way he moved, like he was fully comfortable in his skin. Shockingly, he wasn’t embarrassed about what happened last night. He effortlessly met the awkwardness like his life depended on it. While I blushed from my toes all the way up to the tops of my ears, he just shrugged the entire experience off, as if fucking for show was something that happened regularly for him—maybe it was.

  I picked up my coffee cup and took a sip, mostly because I wanted something to do with my hands. He smiled as I did. “Is this going to be awkward between us now? I’m technically your uncle, but—”

  My eyes widened, and I choked on the coffee I was drinking. Sputtering. Coughing. Choking on the truth. It was a long moment before I could respond. “U-uncle?”

  He chuckled and pulled the cup from my hands, so I didn’t spill on myself. Our fingers brushed, and a tingle of awareness shot up my arm. “I’m Joseph’s younger brother. I’m sure they’ve told you all about me, right?” His tone had a sarcastic quality to it that I quickly processed. I had no idea that Joseph had a brother. The only family I’d met was Jack. And even so, there was no mention of anyone else. He must have seen the confused look on my face, because he forced a smile. “The name is Hamilton.”

  “Like the play?” I asked, brow quirked.

  “My parents were fond of pretentious sounding names. They thought class was predestined and a healthy handful of syllables could determine the status of a man.”

  Hamilton Beauregard felt like a mouthful and completely contradicted his easygoing demeanor. “I’m Vera. It’s nice to meet you,” I choked out.

  I had so many questions. Why didn’t I know about him? The wedding was rushed but not that rushed. There was plenty of time for Joseph to tell me about his younger brother.

  “I’m a bit of an outcast around here. You won’t have to worry about seeing me at awkward Thanksgiving dinners or imagining me fucking some girl on Christmas morning. Most of the time, I’m working offshore on the rig. You know, there’s no money in politics. Dad has to hide his fortune and his youngest child in old oil money.” Hamilton laughed at his joke, but it didn’t feel funny. “I have twenty-one days off. Figured I’d see my big brother get married, though unsurprisingly, the invitation got lost in the mail.”

  He lifted my cup of coffee to his lips and took a sip while staring out over the yard. I didn’t comment on the fact that he was drinking my coffee. “Offshore?” I asked.

  “I’m a tool pusher on an oil rig,” he replied.

  That explained why I’d never met him. He was constantly gone. “Cool,” I replied, not really knowing what to say. I knew as much about his career as I knew about him—nothing.

  “It pays the bills,” he said with a grin before handing me back my cup of coffee. “Plus, it keeps me out of the public eye.” He winked, like I was somehow a part of some secret I actually knew nothing about.

  “I-is that a good thing?” I asked.

  Hamilton leaned a little closer. The morning light made it look like he had flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. “I have a habit of fucking things up.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Last night, I plo
wed a woman whose name I can’t remember while staring at my new niece,” he whispered with a secret smile I felt in my gut. Yep. I supposed that was fucked up.

  I cleared my throat. “Let’s agree to never bring that back up.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied before licking his lips. Despite barely knowing him, I surmised that Hamilton was inherently sexual. More time passed, and hot tension built between us. My skin pebbled as we stared at one another. “I should get going,” he finally said. “Things usually go to shit when my brother and I spend too much time together.”

  “And whose fault is that?” I asked, my question surprisingly bold. I wasn’t sure why I said it. Maybe I was looking for validation that my mother’s new groom wasn’t a good person.

  “Usually mine,” Hamilton answered before standing up and smoothing his shirt. “See you around, Vera.”

  He winked at me, then walked down the deck’s steps and headed toward a parked motorcycle in the distance.

  The sound of the back door opening drew my attention away from Hamilton, and I turned to greet my mother, pleased that I no longer had to navigate this awkward conversation with my u-uncle and that she had remembered our breakfast date this morning. Thank fuck Hamilton left before she woke up. I didn’t want to explain how we’d met the night before. “Hey, baby,” she greeted while adjusting her lavender robe and settling in the cushioned chair beside me.

  My mother looked tired. Her brown hair was still curled from her updo the night before, and her smeared lipstick had stained the skin at the corner of her mouth. She slowly sipped her drink, and my eyes zeroed in on the glimmering rock on her left hand.

  “I was worried you’d forget,” I admitted.

  “I could never forget you,” she replied with a sigh. “Though I was moving very slow this morning. Perhaps an open bar was a bad idea, hmm?” she teased, her voice like a pack of cigarettes and church bells. I laughed. I hadn’t seen her touch a drop of alcohol in a while. I eyed her stomach, trying to see the evidence of a pregnancy, but saw nothing.

  Every Sunday, for as long as I could remember, my mother and I did this. We sat outside on our patio and drank coffee. Sometimes we chatted about life. Sometimes we sat in silence.

  “I saw the pregnancy test, Mom,” I admitted. “I’m happy for you. You don’t have to keep it from me.”

  “You know?” she asked, shocked. Mom turned to face me with a grin. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet. It’s been a lot of change for you, baby. It’s been killing me, not telling you.”

  I set my cup down and reached out to grab her hand. “I’m happy for you. But we never have secrets.”

  Mom sighed. “You’ve always been more of a friend than a daughter. Hell, I don’t even have any friends. I had to ask Colleen to be a bridesmaid, and I don’t even like the bitch. She’s too nosy.” I cleared my throat. Colleen certainly didn’t mind being a bridesmaid when Hamilton was balls deep inside of her. “It’s always been you and me against the world, baby. I just feel guilty. This child is going to have all the things I couldn’t give you. A father. A consistent home. It won’t need toys from the bargain bin or goodwill clothes. I’m not going to have to work three jobs or worry where rent is coming from. I can’t help but feel sad that this baby is going to get a completely different version of me than you did.” She held her stomach and looked off at the tree line in the distance for a moment. “Heck, I’m about to have a honeymoon in Paris. You’ve never even been on an airplane.”

  My heart panged. The different upbringing this child would have was something I’d thought about ever since I saw the test. “I like my version of you,” I lied. “And I want you to be happy. You deserve this, Mom.” This baby might not have the same upbringing as I did, but Mom had earned the right to have a happy little family. This was just another pitstop on the road to accepting our new normal.

  “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, her green eyes sparkling with emotion. “It’s still us. You and me. We just have a little more help. I l-love Joseph. I really, really do. Promise. He’s a good man. I adore him. He’s going to pay for your college. He wants me to see the world. He buys me anything I want. I know the two of you haven’t really had a chance to get to know one another, but he cares about you. He’s really excited for you to attend his alma mater. Jack attended there too, you know. It’s somewhat of a family tradition.”

  Had Hamilton attended there?

  I forced a smile. I didn’t want to attend the pretentious Greenwich University. Up until Mom and Joseph started dating, I had dreams of attending Brooklyn College for Social Work. My entire high school class catalogue was cultivated with the hope of getting a scholarship so I could attend. I knew that Greenwich University was a greater opportunity than I could have ever hoped to achieve. The tuition cost more than most people’s homes, and only the most elite students attended. It was intimidating to think about, but once the engagement was announced, Joseph informed my mother and me that it would be better for everyone if I attended Greenwich, as it was close to home and more respectable for our family legacy. I didn’t even know what that meant, considering I didn’t feel part of the family.

  I didn’t know Joseph. Not really. He wasn’t worried about getting to know me either. At least not more than what was politely required of him. I just had hope that tolerance for one another would at the very least grow over time.

  I was determined to accept all the change thrown at me. I understood that the ability to adapt wasn’t a gift most people had—hell, some people weren’t even given the opportunity. There were entire populations that lived, breathed, and died in accordance to a routine given to them by society. Joseph might be an unexpected variable, but he was like every challenge I faced:

  Conquerable.

  As if summoned by my uneasy thoughts, Joseph came marching out of the house through the sliding back door with a scowl on his face. He looked like he wanted to punch someone. “My brother is such an asshole. Hamilton can’t show up for the ceremony, but he can make it for the free booze at our reception? Dick. I mean seriously, to have a threesome in the dining room is just ridiculous. I just found both his whores wrapped up in blankets on the floor and smelling of booze. I wanted our wedding’s press release to go flawlessly, but now I have to make sure none of those women will sell his debauchery to the tabloids and overshadow us.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to warn him about Colleen, but I stopped myself. A threesome? Fuck. I only saw what happened in my guest room. I guess he had a really, really good night.

  Joseph stopped shouting when he noticed me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Vera. I didn’t realize you were out here.” I bit my tongue and forced myself not to remind Joseph that my mother and I had been enjoying Sunday morning coffee every week for the last eighteen years of my life before he came along. He knew this. He had to know this. He inserted his life into ours and made interrupting us a sport.

  “I didn’t realize you had a brother,” I said, trying to ignore the annoyance I felt in my gut at the sight of my new stepfather.

  Conquer, Vera. Adapt.

  There was just something off about him. He had never been blatantly rude to me, nor had he given me any reason to distrust him, aside from a few careless moments where he forgot I existed. I just instinctively felt off about Joseph. I wished I could figure out why. It made me feel like a petulant child afraid to share her mother. For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t a baby.

  “That’s by design, dear. Hamilton doesn’t usually come to family events, and my father works overtime to keep his depravity out of the papers.”

  I stared at my stepfather for a moment. Was that what he would do to me if I jeopardized the Beauregard reputation? Would I stop being invited to family events? Would I be allowed to know my sibling? The doubts were difficult to digest. I’d always been quiet and studious. I wasn’t one to party or make waves. I’d been conditioned from a young age to be mindful of my behavior. I was a direct reflection of my mother’s parenting, and the cr
itics were harsher when you were a young mom. This wouldn’t be any different, but I wondered when I wouldn’t have to worry about my actions directly affecting someone else.

  My stepfather was picture-perfect. I never saw a hair out of place. He always had a smile on his face. Joseph was a handsome man. He had dirty blond hair slicked back in a preppy style and bright green eyes. Fashionable and rigid, he held the air of someone superior. He was tall and spent most of his free time looking down his nose at me.

  “Darling, you really shouldn’t be drinking coffee in your condition,” he said to my mother before slowly sliding his eyes over to me in a moderately calculative move. He then paused and grinned sheepishly. “Oops. I just meant she was probably dehydrated,” he quickly added.

  “I already know about the baby. Congratulations, Joseph.” I smiled at him, though the joy didn’t quite reach its full potential. I should have been happy about a new baby, right?

  He smiled, like he was thoroughly pleased with himself. “You’ll have to come visit our new house and see the nursery when we get back from Paris!”

  My mother started waving her arms, as if he wasn’t supposed to say something. I laughed nervously. “Well, of course I’ll come visit. I’m staying with you and commuting to school,” I replied. “I thought that was the plan since your new house is so close to campus.” Where the fuck else was I going to stay?

  Joseph tilted his head to the side and gave me a sympathetic look. Oh no. What did this mean?

  “I thought your mother told you?”

  “Told me what?” I asked while turning to look at Mom. She looked like there were crickets in her coffee mug. I watched her lips pucker in annoyance. More secrets. Was this the new norm?

  “Jack and Joseph found you an apartment. We figured you would want your own space, you know. It’s only thirty minutes from our new house and is right on campus. You can still visit for dinner and attend events. Jack was going to surprise you with it. Your new grandfather thought an apartment would be a fun graduation gift. He’s so excited that you’re attending Greenwich.”