Page 20 of If You Claim Me

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Family for life.

How many times did I wish for a foster brother like him? There were so many new families. I remember every last one, even though there should be too many to count. Twenty-six times I moved into a new place.

The fear had nearly eaten me alive the first two times I was dropped off at another unfamiliar house. All I knew was hunger, loneliness, and parents who loved their drugs more than me.

I’d been so certain it would be a repeat of the home they’d taken me out of—that these people would end up as blue-tinged mannequins, silent, staring into the endless forever, and the cycle would repeat.

It would be years before I had a true sense of what stability meant. Too many years. By then I was irreparably broken. Pieces missing, holes carved in my heart and my soul.

Every kid that comes into foster care has endured some horrible trauma. They don’t take kids away unless the situation is dire, or in my case, unless both parents OD’d and there were no relatives to take me.

I shut down those memories. They’re unhelpful and the last thing I should focus on. I wonder how different Connor really is from me. Sure, he grew up in a home with two parents and endless money, but it doesn’t mean he was loved or cared for by the people who brought him into this world.

On the drive over, I review the photos Connor sent me this week with details about his family members. His parents are Duncan and Courtney. Duncan is Lucy’s only son. Connor also has two younger sisters, Portia and Isabelle. Portia’s husband, Bryson, and Isabelle’s husband, Julian, both work for Connor’s father at Grace Hotels, as do his sisters, although in less prominent positions.

Half an hour later, I arrive at the Bridle Path, a very exclusive neighborhood in Toronto full of mansions. Every yard is manicured, with beautiful flowers blooming in picture-perfect gardens and driveways full of flashy cars. Interestingly, his parents’ house isn’t far from Lucy’s.

Cedrick pulls down the long, winding driveway. It’s nothing like Lucy’s house, which feels like it belongs to every princess ever born. This mansion is modern and sterile, with straight lines and little personality.

With each glimpse into Connor’s life, I peel back another layer. A picture starts to form. The fighter on the ice, the enforcer, the man who needles people until they crack and end up in the penalty box along with him. He’s good at pushing buttons and garnering reactions. Then there was the determined man who presented me with an offer, a way out of my situation. But assoon as I accepted it—gratefully!—he began apologizing for what I was about to endure.

What new things will I learn today?

Cedrick announces our arrival and exits the vehicle as Connor comes down the front steps. The tension in his shoulders seems to melt as Cedrick opens the passenger door, unveiling me.

Was he worried I wouldn’t come? That I would change my mind? My heart skips a couple of beats as I take him in.

He’s ungodly gorgeous, which is infuriatingly typical, and impeccably dressed.

His suit isn’t black, or navy, or gray. It’s the same deep teal as his hockey jersey, and it matches my jeweled clutch and my shoes.

Of course he would color coordinate us.

Connor steps in and extends his hand. I take it because it feels rude not to. And I’m increasingly intrigued by the way it feels when he touches me. Heat shoots through my fingers and up my arm, spinning through my body as I carefully step out of the car.

His gaze moves over me on a slow sweep. “I wasn’t sure if I could make you look less like a librarian.” He nods his approval. “This was the right dress for you.”

I look up at his irksomely handsome face. “Was that an insult decorated with a compliment?”

“I’m used to your cardigans.” A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Can you see without the glasses?”

I bat my lashes. “Fuck you, Connor.”

“I don’t believe you want that from me.” He gazes down, untouchably aloof. “But I’d be happy to amend our contract and add that to our arrangement. Sort of like a bonus?”

I smile up at him. “Please fuckyourself.”

“Why, when everyone else is so much better at it?” he quips darkly.

I reach up and press my palm to his cheek. His eyes flare insurprise. “Stand down, Connor. Just because you’re everyone else’s villain doesn’t mean you need to be mine, too.”

His expression shifts and almost softens, if just for a moment. “I thought you’d change your mind and run.”

“I considered it.”

“Smart woman. But that contract is thorough, so you’re mine now, for better and definitely for worse.” He holds out his arm, and I link mine with his.