The man had zero honor and an obsessive fixation on never aging (or appearing to, anyway). Liam's father wasn't a domestic sort of man, and his marriages, of which there'd been several, were always based on how his women made him look.
Rolling the cuffs of his button-down over his dinner coat, he straightened his smoky, argyle tie and took a final look at himself before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.
There hadn't been time that morning to stop at the gym again, but he already needed it. The mere thought of his father had a tendency to fuck with his nerves, and he could use the release. He'd jacked off twice the night before thinking of Jackie, but that had only resulted in making him feel emptier.
He'd have to get over it.
The last thing he wanted to do was become an internet stalker. She'd ignored the one message he'd left in her Two of Hearts box, and now he was absolutely sure that she'd been a one night deal. For whatever reason.
Maybe she'd met him with exactly that intention in mind.
Maybe she wasn't as nice as he thought.
Could be she played the good girl routine well, when in all actuality she had a man out of town. His head was so fucked up over it, it really didn't matter what the reason was now. He just had to get past it. Maybe he was enjoying the karma of his earlier exploits, with the shoe on the other foot and whatnot...
He'd certainly been that guy who didn't return the calls of the purely physical pastimes he'd engaged in. What goes around always comes around. But in fairness, he'd never led anyone to think they might get a call back. Sighing the more he thought about it, she hadn't either, had she?
Pulling into the parking lot of the gargantuan, Uptown bed & breakfast, Liam turned off the blaring death metal screeching through his speakers, courtesy of Pandora's matching algorithms, finding the angsty rockers hadn't made him feel a lick better. Usually music took the edge off, reined in the beast from wanting to get some aggression off, but today... nothing.
No matter. So long as he wasn't inhaling Häagen-Dazs in his gym shorts, tearing up watching Castaway for the 8,000th time, he still had his dignity.
“How long?” The unnecessarily, snooty valet asked, looking very much like he had something far better to do with his time. The new ones always behaved that way. You could usually tell which employees were new to working for the upper-crust by the newly-implanted chips they wore on their shoulders. This one would get the hint when he saw how paltry his tips were...
“Less than an hour.”
He wasn't staying a second longer than that.
Passing a bill into the valet's hands along with the key, he noted the slightly surprised look on the attendant's face. He'd figure out how much his attitude sucked when his tips barely rose above what he was accustomed to at less swanky valets, but Liam wasn't the stingy type. So he wouldn't be learning that lesson from him today.
Heading into the building, Liam gave the doorman a nod as he pulled the door open for him. He was tense, like he always was before a face-to-face with his father. The judgment in his father's eyes alone was enough to fuck up an entire day. He hadn't learned how to shake that off, yet. Hadn't learned how to forgive him for leaving him and his brother to the life they'd had to suffer for way too long.
The bastard hadn't even visited them.
Oh, he'd sent packages of things (that always ended up being sold off for mama's 'medicine'), but his gifts hadn't meant a thing in the end because even for the day they might be enjoyed before they disappeared from their rooms, none of those afterthought items had their dad's heart in them.
His assistant had probably picked that shit out.
Approaching the podium to the Rose Room, he gave the attendant a nod.
“I'm here for the Cross Breakfast.”
Perking up, the older man gave him a pleasant smile.
“Absolutely, right through this door.”
“Thanks.”
Following the direction the attendant gestured him towards, Liam clenched and unclenched his jaw. Here went nothing. Lifting his eyes to take in the round table at the end of the room, he saw that he was already late. Probably the one everyone was waiting on. There were a few new faces, assistants probably, his half-brother, dad, the new toy, all sitting at the table, one guest had her back to him. Maybe his new sis-to-be.
Sighing, Liam drew closer, meeting his father's eyes with a barely reined in spark of rebellion.
“Glad you could tear away from your busy schedule.”
Clenching and unclenching his right fist, Liam bit back a far more cutting comment and pulled out the one unoccupied chair at the table.
“Oh, he's handsome,” an attractive, older blonde commented, covering his father's hand and smiling brightly at him.
“Donna, this is my eldest son, Liam.
"Hi Liam."
"Hello."
Liam tensed, then following the direction of a slight gasp, his eyes widened to find the last face he expected to see sitting at the table, directly across from him: Jackie.
Just. No. This... wasn't happening.
Jackie
Nearly choking on the drink she lifted to mask her surprise, Jackie's mind took into a chaotic race. Two things were horrifically wrong with this picture.
One: the man she was avoiding was sitting right there across from her, so close he could reach out and touch her – which would surely result in her panties falling off.
Two: this man, who'd ravaged her body like no one before him ever had two nights before was going to be her stepbrother.
Actually... make that three things.
The third being the sketchy zillionaire her mother was foolishly agreeing to marry.
Avoiding Liam's eyes, she trained her gaze ahead of her, carefully setting the mimosa she'd ordered back down in front of her. With any luck, her mother wouldn't prompt her to actually engage Liam directly. She'd be unlikely to avoid him now, but she could at least gather her bearings before she had to have anything close to resembling a conversation.
“Jackie, darling. Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost?”
“Just fine, Mom. Can we order?”
Her mother had that taken aback look she'd perfected over the years, but Jackie ignored it and lifted up the menu, wishing she could disappear into it completely. Could her life be any more fucked? I mean, seriously... Had she just spent a torrid, off-the-charts hot evening with a man who was two words away from being her brother?
Just her luck, right?
Maybe the universe was telling her to be a good girl, after all. To resolve herself to the ill treatment of men, and take it as it comes. Which would suck if that's the message she was to take from all of this. Because she really didn't want to be that girl anymore. She'd had about all of the unfair heartache she could take. If her only option was to be the doormat to assholes who had no idea what they truly wanted in a relationship, she might as well start checking animal shelters now for the 10 cats who'd become her house companions well into her retirement years.
“I've had a chance to sample the trail mix line your mother has developed. Second to none. I'm told you're behind the recipe?”
Jackie suppressed the urge to glare at her mom's new squeeze.