Reed walks quickly, his long legs striding down the corridor, so I have to hurry to keep up. I’m so grateful I’m not in heels or I’d have fallen on my ass by now.
A car is waiting at the front of the hotel. The driver climbs out and opens the back door for us. I smile my thanks at him and climb in. Reed follows, taking the spot beside me.
I’ve never been in a car like this before—a stretch limo, all leather seats, and expensive interior. I feel so out of place, I just want to run back to my trailer and lock the door behind me.
I sense tension radiating from Reed as well. As awkward as I am with this situation, he’s the same.
Is he expecting me to ask about my mother? To question why he left? To wonder out loud if he ever thought about me or what kind of life I was leading? I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of trying to explain himself. I’d prefer to let him stew. He doesn’t bring up the topic either, and I sit facing the window, watching downtown Los Angeles pass in a blur of color and lights.
There’s a little traffic, but soon enough we arrive at the concert hall. The driver stops the limo and gets out, opening the rear door for us once more. We draw the attention of others as we get out, and I can see people angling their heads toward one another, whispering questions about who we are.
There’s a stream of beautifully dressed people entering the concert hall, and we join them, stepping inside the breathtaking building. I feel utterly out of place, but I force myself to lift my chin and put my shoulders back. My stomach flutters with nerves and my blood fizzes through my veins. What am I even doing here? My mother died today. This is too much.
Why didn’t it even occur to me to tell Reed that I’d just stay in the hotel room while he attended the concert? Instead, I gotswept along with what Reed told me to do, and it didn’t even occur to me to push back. I’ve been sleepwalking through this day, and I assume that’s in part due to shock.
I eye Reed curiously. Does he realize that? Or is he so caught up in what he needs to be doing that he hasn’t given my mental wellbeing a single thought?
I’m at least grateful he didn’t allow me to show up in my jeans and t-shirt. At least, dressed as I am, I can blend in with the crowd. People are mingling, and many of them nurse tall glasses of champagne. Reed greets people with smiles and nods, as though he knows everyone.
“Ah, here’s someone I want you to meet,” Reed says, nodding across the foyer.
I follow his line of sight, and it’s all I can do to stop my jaw hitting the floor.
I swear this guy is the biggest man I’ve ever seen. He’s easily six-four, and it’s not just that he’s tall either. He’s definitely been putting in some gym time, and he’s not afraid to show it. He’s dressed in black slacks and a black, button-down shirt, and shiny shoes. Like me, I feel he’s dressed up for the occasion. The tattoos that crawl up the side of his neck and down across his hands and knuckles hint toward his normal style.
“This is your stepbrother, Cade.”
Chapter Four
Cade
MY NEW STEPSISTER ISstaring at me like the fucking Abominable Snowman just stepped out in front of her, her lips parted slightly, her eyes—a curious shade of blue—round.
She’s young, but not as young as I had expected. I’m assuming the getup Reed’s put her in makes her look older. She seems uncomfortable, tugging at the spaghetti straps of the dress, so I highly doubt she’s the one who has chosen what she’s wearing. The dress alone probably costs more than her house. Does she even have a house? I’m sure Reed mentioned something on the phone about going to pick her up from her trailer.
My father tends to get what he wants. He files his controlling ways beneath the header of ‘watching out for us’ or ‘taking care of us’ or ‘just doing what’s best,’ but the truth is that he wants things to go his way. He’s literally Darius’s manager, for fuck’s sake. I often see Darius in him, in his need to control his surroundings, but Dax has other reasons for that, ones I do understand.
“Cade,” Reed says, “I want you to meet Laney. Your stepsister.”
I stare right at her, and to give her props, she holds my gaze.
“I don’t have a stepsister,” I say, my tone indifferent.
“You do now. Be nice.” A warning. “Her mother just died.”
I smirk. “I’m always nice.”
That’s a lie.
Is this Reed’s new project? Sometimes I think he focuses on everyone else so he doesn’t have to think about himself. It hasn’t escaped my notice that my father doesn’t have much of a social life. There’s been the occasional woman, but nothing like me and Dax. I’d put it down to his age, but he’s only just turned forty, so it’s not like he’s ancient.
“You didn’t think you should have warned us about a stepsister before now?” I suggest. “Maybe mention it at the dinner table, perhaps?”
Reed’s expression is unreadable. “It never came up.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Clearly not.”
Laney turns those big, pale blue eyes on me. “You didn’t know about me?” She seems surprised. “Did you know about my mother?”