Stepbrother Billionaire(49)
Author: Colleen Masters

“It’s not like they’re giving you much of a choice,” Emerson says.

“I just have to figure out a way to get through to them,” I say shaking my head, “Without this job, I’m going to need a place to stay, at least for a little while.”

“You have a place to stay,” Emerson replies quizzically, “Right here.”

“I know you’re letting me stay here tonight,” I tell him, “But I mean long term, Emerson.”

“Maybe I mean long term too, Abby,” he shoots back, his anger fading to determination.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him, “You’re not even staying here long term. You’re going back to London at the end of the week.”

“Only if I decide to keep my job at Bastian,” he says.

I stare at him, jaw hanging out. “You’re not seriously considering quitting?” I ask, “That job is once-in-a-lifetime. Bastian is the best in the field. You can’t walk away from that.”

“Sure I can,” he challenges me, stepping around the island toward me, “After the way Cooper disrespected us this morning? Why would I want to stay?”

“No,” I say, “No, Emerson. You can’t leave that agency on my account.”

“And why not?” he demands, placing his hands on my hips.

“Because,” I splutter, staring up at him, “I can’t…That’s too much pressure! I can’t be responsible for you losing your job.”

“I’m responsible for you losing yours,” he points out.

“Yeah. But,” I stammer, resting my hands on his firm chest.

“I was doing perfectly well before Bastian hired me,” Emerson says, “I can do perfectly well without them now.”

“But what if you start resenting me? You know…for making you leave?” I ask, unable to meet his gaze.

“That would never happen,” he says, turning my face toward his.

“You don’t know that,” I insist.

“Yes I do,” he says, his eyes flashing angrily. “I know myself, Abby. I know what I care about. And what I care about above all is you. I don’t want to work for any company that doesn’t value you as much as I do.”

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” I ask, taking a step away from him.

“Anything we want!” he exclaims, “I have enough money saved up from my first few app sales to last us two lifetimes!”

“And I’m just supposed to be content, living off your money?” I ask archly, crossing my arms. “Remember how well that worked for my dad? And your mom?”

“It’s not the same thing,” he says sternly.

“I don’t see any difference,” I say, shaking my head. “My dad never had any pride in himself, because he just lived off his parents’ money his whole life. I was already headed down that road with my grandparents, but Bastian was finally going to get me on my own two feet. I need to find another job, another way to be independent, not another meal ticket.”

“Is that what I’d be to you?” Emerson asks heatedly, “A meal ticket?”

“Of course not!” I cry, “I love you, Emerson. I loved you when you were a penniless eighteen-year-old and I love you now!”

“So what the fuck are we arguing about?” he shouts, slamming his fist down on the island. “It’s just money, Abby. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, it—”

“It means nothing,” he insists, “You sharing my life, my resources, wouldn’t mean that you were bound to me, or that you owed me anything. It wouldn’t mean I had power over you, it would just mean…that you we here. With me. That we were in this together.”

“Emerson, I don’t…” I whisper, trying to wrap my head around what he’s suggesting. “I don’t know how to think of money as anything but a bargaining chip. My family—”

“Your family is fucked up, pardon my saying,” he cuts me off. “Your grandparents use their money as a weapon. But me? I’d like to use mine as a gift. A way out, for both of us. Why won’t you let me do that for you? For us?”

“I’m just…I’m sorry…” I say, trying to blink back the tears that have sprung to my eyes. “I just need to think.”

“Fine,” Emerson says, his jaw set.

He turns on his heel, storms across the loft, and grabs up a retractable leash from the side table. “I know I should just be some alpha man idiot and storm out into the wind or whatever the fuck, but Roxie needs a walk.”

The Westie goes galloping over to Emerson when he whistles. Emerson attaches the leash to her collar and looks up at me. “I’ll give you some time to think everything over. Have some wine if you like. If you want to leave before I get back and find some other way…I won’t hold it against you. Just make up your mind, Abby. You know what I want.”

Before I can say another word, he wrenches open the front door and disappears with Roxie on his heels. I fall back against the kitchen island, letting the baffled tears stream down my face. With shaking hands, I fish out a bottle of Cabernet from the stockpile. Pouring myself a very tall glass, I let my warring thoughts pour out through my mind as well.

Emerson is willing to leave his job and share everything he has with me. I, on the other hand, have no choice but to abandon my job at Bastian, have no place to live, and hardly any money to my name. If he and I were to start a life together now, I’d be bringing nothing to the table. Shudderingly, I remember how I felt about Deb when she showed up on the scene. I thought she was desperate, and manipulative, and a helpless dependent. How would what Emerson is proposing make me any different from her?

As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been living off the generosity of my family for my whole life so far. Sure, I worked hard to get into a good college and paid most of my tuition with scholarships, but I have privilege coming out the wazoo. And now, what—I’m just going to marry rich and have that be that? How am I supposed to live with myself if I go down that path? I have to earn my own way through life. It’s what I’ve always wanted.

I take a huge gulp of wine and feel it go straight to my head via my empty stomach. Getting trashed is not the solution here, but I have no other brilliant ideas. I wish that I had someone to talk about all of this. Riley’s probably furious with me for getting us evicted, and it’s not like I’m going to call my grandparents up. It’s times like this when I most keenly feel the loss of my mother. I wish more than anything that she was here for me to talk to. She’d be able to help me through this mess. But of course, that’s just a dream. I’m all alone in this, as ever.