BIG: (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance) (9 page)

“Not what?”

“Not still thinking about what car you wanna get?

She smirked as she shifted again. “You know me far too well.”

Annalesa had been so preoccupied with seeing Ric again since she’d found out about the graduation party, she hadn’t really thought about the other part of the trip—the trust meeting—until Ric brought it up. He’d teased her about the money, and had even, in his own way, tried to prepare her, but Annalesa hadn’t really understood, not then.

Now, as she stood and inspected her dress in front of a full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, her head was spinning.

She’d nearly fallen off her chair when the paperwork was put in front of her. It had only been the light press of Ric’s hand guiding her back into her seat that helped her to regain some kind of composure.

How much?
That’s all she could think. How
much?

She still couldn’t even fit the full amount in her head.

It wasn’t like her mother ever struggled to put food on the table, even before meeting Brad Ryker. Annalesa’s life had always been comfortable, truth be told, but she’d still always had to work. Brad had a strong work ethic, and he insisted both Ric and Annalesa cultivate one, so part-time jobs and “earning” their allowances had always been part of their existence.

Not that their allowances hadn’t been generous. She’d been grateful to know there was always back-up if she overspent or found herself facing an unexpected repair bill on her car. But there was a world of difference between never having to budget for a friend’s birthday—and having an eight-figure bank balance. The majority of her windfall was tied up in Ryker shares, but the cash disbursement alone was enough to make her eyes water.

This meant she’d have to sit down and figure out what she was going to do with her life. For some reason, a totally open door was just as intimidating as a hallway of closed ones.

She had a couple ideas she wanted to explore—a lot of her university friends had discovered it was hard to find decent, affordable housing while on European placements and she knew of a few buildings in the 13
th
to 17
th
arrondissements that could be split into studio apartments and rented out to students.

She’d already sketched out a preliminary to-do list—high priority going to the hiring of someone who could be her local representative so her tenants weren’t left without someone to turn to if she wasn’t in the country. She didn’t necessarily want to be tied down.

For now, though, she wanted to enjoy herself.

With Ric.

That thought made her spine straighten and she checked out her reflection in the mirror. She’d invested in a silk aquamarine shift dress which tucked in under her not inconsiderable bust and pinched in at her waist, flattening the tiny bit of tummy she wished didn’t exist.

The color looked great against her lightly tanned skin and dark brown hair and brought out the blue in her eyes. The dress actually made her look a whole size slimmer, but it had a way of riding up her thighs in the back.

She yanked off her thigh-highs and took her kitten-heels to the bathroom to shake a little powder into them. If they started sticking or rubbing, she’d just abandon them somewhere until morning. That was one advantage of having the graduation party at the house—it was a relatively short walk back to her room.

She idly wondered how Ric would handle all the attention over his new body. Probably looking forward to it—in a way. And dreading it, in another. He had every reason to be proud, of course. But she knew Ric. If everyone focused on his transformation and forgot what they were actually there to celebrate, he was bound to get touchy about it.

What she’d said earlier was true—he’d always been one to shoot first and ask questions later. She just hoped he could manage to stay relaxed while their parents’ friends oooo’d and ahhh’d over him.

Alcohol,
she thought.
Lots and lots of alcohol.

She’d just be at his elbow all night, making sure he had a full glass. That would keep him chilled out.

Annalesa gave her hair one final check, applied a little lip gloss and made her way to the conference room. It was big enough to hold several hundred people and it was the logical choice for such a large gathering.

Her jaw dropped as she walked into the room, feeling as if she’d suddenly been transported from twenty-first century Maine into Valhalla.

Dinner was a buffet being served on long tables. The waitresses were dressed as Valkyries and there was a huge pig roast turning on a spit suspended over electric heaters. She couldn’t help but smile at the holographic fire beneath the pig—they’d gone all-out with the realism.

The guys from Arensen’s private security group were all dressed as Vikings. She laughed to herself, wondering if they’d been paid a humiliation bonus for it. The expression on Henrik’s face suggested, if they had, the bonus hadn’t been nearly enough.

Since a lot of guests had already arrived, she did the meet-and-greet thing with everyone she recognized before finally spotting Ric. He was on the far side of the room, talking animatedly into his iPhone.

Her breath caught when she saw him, unable to help her body’s reaction. He was gorgeous—so confident and self-assured. His black suit did nothing to hide or tame his build and his dark blond hair was left untied, glowing bronze under a spotlight from the crown of his head to just a few inches below his collar.

He caught her eye and smiled a smile that practically knocked her over. It certainly made her knees feel weak. By the time she’d crossed the room on her decidedly wobbly legs, he’d finished his call.

He put his hands out to her, bending low to give her a public, brotherly kiss on the cheek. But she heard him breathe in, and the way he scented her like that made her dizzy with longing.

She didn’t know if she was going to make it through this night without making an utter fool of herself over this man.

“You look amazing.”

“You, too,” she murmured, stunned by how perfectly his navy blue shirt set off those grey-green eyes. He smelled fantastic and she bit her lip to suppress the Pavlovian tremor that rippled through her. “Who did the decorating?”

“Who else?” Ric chuckled and pointed over at his father who was ‘supervising’ the removal of the hotplate covers on the buffet and making conversation with the under-dressed wait staff. “The man never met a good cliché he didn’t love.”

They watched as Brad jogged across the room to greet their mother, who was holding the double doors of the conference room open so that a woman in a motorized wheelchair could zip inside.

The wheelchair had a cup holder propping up a glass of red wine and the sight of it made Annalesa want some. But she hadn’t eaten much all day, and she had a tendency to say things when she was drunk that she really meant. This was probably not the time or place for that.

And the way Ric looked tonight, drinking too much would be risky.

“I better get some food in me before I dive into the alcohol.”

“Me too.” He grimaced, an expression that just made him even more endearing to her, if that was possible. “I’m gonna need to be plastered if I have to listen to our parents make speeches.”

“Oh God.” She glanced over at her mother. “You don’t think they expect
us
to make speeches, do you?”

Ric’s eyes widened in alarm. “Let’s get you some food. Come on!”

A lot of effort had gone into the presentation of the array of smoked and pickled fish dishes. Tiny shields held portions of potato and a meat so dark she didn’t even recognize it. The rollmops—coiled lengths of pickled herring speared with miniature swords—made her grin.

“What are you going for? A seal meal or a Norse course?”

“Be nice.” Ric chuckled and elbowed her.

“I am! I’m just enjoying Brad’s eye for detail, that’s all.”

“I’m going for the pig roast, since you asked.”

“Protein-fest?”

“Flavor-fest. It’s bacon on a spit. My whole life’s not about dieting, you know.” He picked up something that looked like a flensing knife and curled off a huge steak from the side of the beast on the spit. “Want some?”

“Yeah, thanks.” It smelled heavenly, and at least it wasn’t fish. She didn’t mind fish but she had a morbid fear of fish bones. Annalesa put a couple of rolls and smoked salmon on her plate then handed it to Ric.

More guests flooded in, and since the two guests of honor had unofficially declared the buffet open by grabbing plates, people began to migrate towards the food. Although the party was to celebrate their graduations, most of the attendees were their parents’ friends and, Annalesa suspected, investors in Ryker Arms.

Ric had never been the most sociable of teenagers, and she could hardly blame her folks for not inviting any of her old high school ‘friends’ or their parents. Brad had cut off Jenny’s dad the day he’d found out that she’d sent Ric threatening messages after the incident with Ryan.

Annalesa loaded up Ric’s plate for him while he carved the pig, wishing she’d had a little more warning about the graduation party. She could’ve invited some of the friends she’d actually gone to University with—although she wasn’t sure they could have made the trip overseas.

She spotted a couple of their high school teachers over by the DJ—why did high school teachers never seem to age? Was it because they were around kids all the time?

“Hello, Annalesa. Congratulations on your degree.” She turned to see a stocky man with wire-rimmed glasses smiling up at her. Her heels made her taller than him by a good four inches, but she still only came up to Rick’s chin.

“Thank you.” She smiled, trying to remember who in the hell he was.

“Alan Bremmen. I’m one of the lawyers.” He held his hand out and winked. “There are so many lawyers and accountants here employed by Ryker, I’m sure you can’t possibly remember all of us.”

“Oh, no,” she lied. “I remember you.”

“Sure you do. Hey, what’s the difference between a lawyer and an accountant?” Alan asked, giving her a wide grin.

“Uhhh…” She glanced over at Ric, hoping for rescue. He stood just a few feet away, still holding her plates, but he’d been waylaid by another guest. “I don’t know?”

“At least the accountant knows he’s boring.” Bremmen burst out laughing, and Annalesa laughed too—not because she thought the joke was all that funny, but because
he
clearly thought it was hilarious.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bremmen,” she said politely, holding up Ric’s plate. “I’m going to find a table. The food looks delicious, help yourself.”

Annalesa edged away from the lawyer, closer to Ric. She saw one of their ex-neighbors milling around, enjoying the free liquor. Jon Church and his wife, Marie, had moved from Maine and were now living in Boston after selling their land to Brad. He’d used it to expand the Ryker Arms US HQ compound. She thought Jon also owned Ryker shares, but she couldn’t remember for sure.

She’d just sidled up next to Ric and handed over his plate when the perfectly coiffed woman in the motorized wheelchair whirled around in their direction and Annalesa finally recognized her.