Page 80 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)
Clara
T he weekend passes in a blur of solitude and two nights of painfully vanilla sex to appease Trips’ dad.
I should probably feel weirder about it than I do, but when it comes down to it, there’s sex for the controlling man we’re forced to deal with, and sex for us.
And while we’re bound to stumble our way through this, Trips and I agreed that the night after the orchestra concert wasn’t about us, nor was the night after that.
They were about proving to his father that we could follow directions.
Hopefully, trust will gain us a little more freedom.
Because it’s hard to stage a coup while locked inside the four blue walls of my bedroom.
I’m starting to hate blue.
The next week at school is more of the same, with my only conversations one with Jonah in marketing and one on the docks with Mattie. She told me more about her secret boyfriend while I used ‘her’ phone to reach out to my own boyfriends.
I thought I could do this. But when we planned this, I assumed I’d have Trips with me. Not that I’d be literally alone almost all the time.
I miss the other guys so much that I’m doing everything I can to not think about them.
I miss bringing my problems to Emma and waiting while she braids her hair and gathers her thoughts.
I even miss Summer’s smirk and offer of friendship.
She’s not even a friend. But if I’d made different choices, she could have been.
Staring out an open window in silence isn’t good for my mental state.
So, instead of going insane, I decide to dance.
I can’t sing. I’ve been told often enough that a cat in heat has better pitch than I do. But I can still hear music in my head, so that’s what I do. I play my favorite songs in my mind, rocking out in the silence of my cage, every muscle in my body giddy with the opportunity to move.
I’ve just finished up a full get down when the scratch of the key knocks me from my solo, silent dance party. Spinning, the worst possible distraction waits for me.
“Sister, Father’s worried you’re losing it.”
Sucking in a breath, sweat gathering at my hairline from who knows how long I’ve been keeping myself company, I glare. “Trevor. I thought you’d be flying off to be with your wife soon.”
“Tomorrow. But I’m honored that you’re keeping such close track of my schedule.”
“Just to avoid you,” I say, completely done pretending with this man.
His hands have been on me too many times for me to continue to let it slide.
If I don’t set him straight, he’s going to think he has a right to me.
He’s the kind of man who believes he has a right to whatever he wants, the kind of man that makes me glad I’ve learned to fight.
He laughs like I’ve made a joke, then motions to the open door. “Come on. We’ll go swimming. It’s beautiful out.”
“I’m not going swimming with you.”
His grin falls off his face so fast I’d have whiplash if I trusted the man. “I’m not asking. My father has requested I get you out of this room, and you will oblige both him and me. Unless you think your ribs are healed enough to handle another bout of my father’s rage?”
I debate the risks.
“Fine. I need to change.”
His grin flashes back, too white, too open, terrifyingly frank.
A smile that wins over masses. He closes the door with him in my room, and goosebumps pebble my skin.
But I turn my back to him, showing no fear while I dig through my drawers until I find the only one-piece swimsuit in there.
There’s a cover-up looking thing in the closet that might be a dress or sweater, but without guidance, I take it to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
Once I’m as covered as I’m going to be, I slip on some sandals, and after a few hidden taps on my leg, I open and follow Trips’ brother from my room.
His hand on the small of my back could be seen as a courtesy, but it’s nothing but a warning. He can’t try anything, though. His father was clear that I’m not for him. He leads me deeper into the house, and soon, I can tell we aren’t heading to the backyard pool within sight of his father’s office.
“Isn’t the pool that way?” I ask, trying to sidestep out of his reach.
He follows, keeping his fingers against my spine. “You haven’t used the indoor pool yet, have you?”
“It’s so beautiful today. I’d love to try the outside one.”
His grin bites. “The indoor one is much nicer.”
I debate running, but I don’t know where I am anymore. And while I’m sure I could find my way outside or back to my room, I’m not sure I could get there faster than the man beside me who’s lived here his whole life.
He guides me to a glass door, through which I see a gorgeous pool, tiled deep blue and white. Large potted plants, chaise loungers, and even a couch are scattered around the edges, but the space gives off an abandoned vibe. Because who would choose the indoor pool when it’s gorgeous outside?
“Come along, now, sister. We should get to know each other, given we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives in close proximity.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You could win a national election. Then you and Olivia will be in Washington, D.C., not here, with your brother and me.”
He laughs, pushing me through the door with enough force for me to know this fight won’t be easily won.
He’s not nearly as big as Trips, but he’s still a tall man in his late twenties.
And from what Trips told me, his brother has taken at least half as many hits as he has, so pain isn’t as shocking as it would be to someone else.
Readying myself for whatever comes next, I inspect him, looking for any weaknesses, and once his shirt is off, for any lingering bruises left by his father.
He takes my inspection as interest, because of course he does. “Do you like what you see?” he asks, spinning in a circle. “I am the better-looking brother. Friendlier, too.”
“You’re not competing in a bachelor auction. You’re a married man, and I’m engaged to your brother.”
“Not happily.” I’m not sure if he’s talking about his situation or mine, but he clarifies, saving me from figuring it out.
“You don’t want to be here. And Olivia and I are a political match, nothing more.
So really, why not have some fun while you’re stuck here?
And I can promise that I’m your kind of fun. ”
“What gives you the impression you know anything about me, let alone what I find fun?”
“Years of study, baby.”
The visceral horror that rockets through me at the once-familiar endearment has bile coating the back of my tongue. “I’m no one’s baby,” I spit out.
“Ah, but you were, weren’t you?”
Pigtails. Bryce. Fuck. “So, you were one of the creeps who watched those videos,” I manage. Trevor is even worse with this revelation. But it makes sense. Olivia is eighteen. “Why are you here instead of with your barely-legal wife, then, if that’s your thing?”
He smiles, happy I’m asking him questions. Like I’d ever take him up on his offer of ‘fun.’
“Oh, she still needs handholding. Or training, depending on your perspective. And until I can knock her up, I can’t have much fun at all, or my divorce will end up on the five o’clock news.
Her father is quite protective. So sadly, I must wait until she’s done with college to really enjoy myself.
” He steps forward, tugging on the tie of my cover up, the sides of the heavy fabric falling open to reveal my navy suit.
“Waiting until she's twenty-two will a chore, but it turns out that I can get it up for a woman at least into her early twenties. For example, how old are you now? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?” I swallow as he steps closer, the space between us almost non-existent. “I’ll be honest, I’d assumed you were younger.
Your man did a good job with you, dressing you so sweet, keeping you so broken.
I loved the way you cried. The way you begged. Such a good girl.”
Barely suppressing my shiver, I don’t reply, once again debating making a run for it.
As RJ drilled into me, running should always be the first choice.
It’s always the safest. But Trevor recognized me the first time he saw me.
He’s seen me naked, and not just when I was beaten to the point of spitting blood.
I’d bitten through my tongue trying not to cry out, not that he’s the kind of guy who’d even consider helping me.
He’s seen me broken and begging, my every weakness recorded and shared with strangers. He saw me at my lowest, back when I thought I had to make myself small to be loved. That the only way to have someone care was to be whatever they wanted me to be.
I’m not that girl anymore.
The invitations for the wedding are in the mail. The dress is ordered; the caterers selected. It’s a risk.
But bending for this man is one line I won’t cross to get my happy ending.
He stalks around me, his finger tracing across my skin, taking my silence as compliance.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Archie. The oaf actually likes you.
But a girl like you needs someone with finesse, someone to break you down until you can beg for what you really want.
Not a man who will simply break you. Which is what my brother will do.
He’s a loose cannon. One mistake, one fit of anger and whoops, there goes that Clara McElroy, so sad, such a promising young woman.
” He finishes his circle of me, eyes tracing my body like it’s his.
“I can protect you from him. I have my father’s ear in a way he never will.
You can be my mistress, and my father can find another girl for him. ”
I struggle not to pull away as his fingers stroke down my cheek, but I’ll only have one chance to surprise him. So I wait, letting him explain his little fantasy. I wait for the perfect moment to fight back.
“I already know you’ll be a good fit for me.
You need a firm hand, but not a dangerous one.
I remember one video, and—” He steps behind me, his sigh loud as he presses his face to the side of my head.
“It was just disappointment. A sigh from him, just like that, and the tears started. And when he took you from behind, the tears fell so thick they should have made a lake for you to drown in.”
Drown. His voice changes there, the word getting a lover’s caress.
And the change in tone whips my discomfort to straight up fear.
Drown. A word that might just be a fantasy, but one that hints at a real risk to me should Trevor Westerhouse ever get angry enough to act on whatever horrors live in his mind.
Drown.
And I’m standing three feet from a pool.