Stepbrother Billionaire(34)
Author: Colleen Masters

“No, not at all,” Emerson assures me, “You’ve got to use the resources you have, right?”

“I’ll take that,” I smile. “What else…I studied graphic design and digital media, got my masters, and voila! Here I am.”

“Design, huh? So you still get to be an artist,” he says, his eyes resting warmly on my face. I smile, touched that he’s remembered my childhood passion.

“In a way, yes,” I reply. “And I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of my work soon, what with your kind of being my boss and all.”

“I’m your colleague, not your boss,” Emerson insists.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” I tease, “Whatever you say, boss.”

“Careful, lackey,” he shoots back, jumping on my joke, “Or I’ll have to dock your pay.”

“Ooh, I’m shaking in my panties,” I snicker. My cheeks flame red as I realize that it’s taken me all of five minutes to bring my panties into the conversation.

“Relax,” Emerson chuckles, seeing my face. “This isn’t Courtney Haines’ house party. I’m not gonna make you hand them over or anything. Unless you really want to.”

“Duly noted,” I tell him, all but swigging my martini.

“I hear she’s on Broadway now,” Emerson goes on, glancing down at his drink.

“Really,” I say, feeling an old trill of jealousy run through me as I remember the redheaded beauty who snagged Emerson’s attention all those years ago.

“Yeah. Almost won a Tony and everything,” Emerson says, plucking up his olive and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe I should call her up and see how she’s doing?”

I’m about to say something polite and change the subject, until I see the look in Emerson’s gorgeous blue eyes.

“Are you baiting me, Sawyer?” I ask.

“Is it working, Rowan?” he winks.

“You’re terrible,” I inform him, relieved that he wasn’t serious about Courtney.

“It’s true,” he sighs dramatically, “Some things never change.”

“Besides, there surely isn’t room for Courtney in your harem,” I go on, “With your whole gorgeous bad boy billionaire thing, you’ve probably got a girlfriend for every day of the week.”

“Nope,” Emerson replies, “But thanks for calling me gorgeous.”

“Like you don’t know,” I shoot back, “So then, just the one girlfriend for you?”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Fiancée?” I ask, with mounting dread, “Wife?”

“Well, there is Roxie…” he says, “She’s very important to me.”

“Roxie?” I ask, “You’re with a woman named Roxie? Who the hell—?”

“She’s my west highland terrier,” he cuts me off with a smirk. “But good to see you’re still protective of me, Ab.”

“I’m not—I just—” I sputter, “I’m just curious, is all.”

“That makes two of us,” he replies, “I’m expecting a report on your love life, too.”

“Or lack thereof, you mean?” I ask drily. “I just finished grad school. That means my most significant romantic relationship at the moment is with my pizza delivery man.”

“Who is he? I’ll throttle him,” Emerson says, raising his fists like a cartoon leprechaun. But the memory of the beat down he gave Tucker all those years ago is too fresh for that particular joke to be funny.

For the first time these evening, the silence between us grows tense. Despite our relatively breezy reunion so far, there’s a lot of ugly, buried emotions hanging between us. I’ve spent a good part of the last eight years being furious with Emerson for disappearing on me when I needed him. I’ve been hurt, angry, and more than anything, just terribly sad to have lost him. All that feeling can’t just evaporate because he’s resurfaced with a shit ton of money and nicer biceps than ever before.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says with quiet firmness, leaning toward me.

“Honestly?” I reply, “I’m thinking about all the imaginary fights I’ve had with you these past few years. All the things I’d dream of saying to you, if we ever ran into each other again.”

“Like what?” he asks intently.

“You don’t want me to tell you,” I mutter, “Your eyebrows might get singed off.”

“That bad, huh?” he asks.

“That bad,” I assure him.

“Well, I had plenty of imaginary conversations with you, too,” he tells me, moving closer by just an inch. “Want to know how most of them went?”

“I’m not sure—”

“Usually, they revolved around me apologizing for vanishing into thin air on you,” he cuts me off, “And for leaving you to deal with the fallout on your own. And hey, now that you’re actually sitting here with me, I can tell you—I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think sorry can begin to fix it,” I whisper, staring down at my drink. “You left, Emerson. Left me alone in that house, with my dad, after the way he treated us. He could have hurt me, if Riley hadn’t shown up to get me. Did you even care?”

“Of course I cared,” he said fiercely, “But try to imagine being me in that moment. Having my mother bring the whole family crashing down all on her own…it was humiliating. I felt like absolute scum for being my parents’ kid. I couldn’t even look at you, I was so ashamed of who I was. And so furious that I couldn’t do anything to help or protect you.”

“Is that why you nearly killed Tucker?” I ask softly.

“I guess it is,” Emerson allows, shaking his head, “I wasn’t really thinking about it much at the time. To be honest, Abby, I don’t lose much sleep over what I did to him. In my mind, that’s what he had coming from the moment he…Anyway. I had to disappear, Ab. I couldn’t stand the idea of you being as ashamed of me as I was.”

“I was never ashamed of you,” I burst out, “Never once, Emerson. That was just some crazy idea you cooked up in your own damn mind. I never gave a shit about our families’ money and standing. You know that. Or at least you should have known.”

“You’re right,” Emerson murmurs, reaching for my hand, “I should have. And for that, again, I am truly sorry. But don’t you think for a second that I wouldn’t have come running back if you’d ever needed me.”