Family Business (Mixing Business with Pleasure Book 3) Read online

  Family Business

  Mixing Business With Pleasure Series

  Book Three

  Ace Gray

  Copyright © 2016 Ace Gray

  ISBN 978-1-68418-837-6

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase a copy for each recipient. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Editing by Kathleen Payne

  Book formatting by Stella James

  Cover compilation completed by Bex Harper

  Table of Contents

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  30.

  31.

  32.

  33.

  34.

  35.

  36.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DEDICATION

  To Bex, Emma, Mel and Mix

  You guys are the bright white in my darkest moments

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Each time I start these, I stare blankly for a while at the screen. I mean how do I ever properly articulate a thank you to the people who have been instrumental in making my dreams come true? Because that’s what my acknowledgements are, a very deep, very real thank you for letting me indulge my every fantasy, including being an author.

  Thanks and massive sabering-the-champagne toast to…

  Pat, my hubs, my light. Thank you for always being proud of me. Thank you for encouraging me to keep going. I’d fight for you just like Kate would Nick. You are the real fairy tale deal baby.

  Mom and Dad you guys taught me everything I know. The older I get, the more I realize that you taught me everything that matters—kindness, generosity, love, perseverance, tenacity, and hard work among many other things—I’ve applied each and every lesson to my life, and of course, this book.

  Bex, Emma, Mel and Mix, aka my Ladyfaces and Ladyloves. Thank you for always answering my heinous messages. Thank you for often agreeing to marry me, accepting my flaming poop, being my movie premiere date and being my constant dick pic supply. You guys keep me going when the author business gets hard. I can always count on you four. There are no words for that kind of friendship. There are, however, lots of emoijs…

  Karrie for tolerating my terrible snapchat singing.

  Kathleen for accepting You can take that feedback and sit on it as a legit response to editing my books. (P.S. check the italics. Sorry, there aren’t more commas).

  BB for letting me get the tattoo. And being worth every single drop of ink.

  AM Johnson, A Wilding Wells, M Andrews, Martha Sweeney, RK Ryde, and TR Cupak for simultaneously being my heroes, my friends, my idols, my inspiration and some of the best friends a girl could ask for. I can only hope to be like you guys when I grow up.

  Selin for being my Care Bear.

  Amanda for letting me keep her AND Devon Sawa.

  Simmy for everything, particularly being you.

  Sahara and Morgan for making me feel like a celebrity.

  Kellogg for reading my books despite anal.

  Stephanie for giving it to me straight even when I want it curvy, but always over cocktails.

  Stella and Jill for being badasses and angels and saints. And saintly, badass angels!

  Bex and Harper for saving my ass in the most beautiful and brilliant way possible. I am yours forever.

  And the rest of my squad, like @authordeeellis, @authordeegarcia, @taylors_pages, @smutty_men, @marthadita, @cozy_dita, @gizzygrl11, @little_monkey12, @wondertre, @abdulia_ortiz, @ash.loveofbooks, @booksandlooks30, @bookmarkbelles, @karen_sedg68, @winlocklane, @book_bf_lover, @book_lovin_misfit, @librenjady, @bookminx25, @j.valentine702, @authorameliaoliver, @kinky_n_smutty_book_addict, @ms_kyle29, @bl_harvey_, @innergoddess_booklover, @ratherbereading143, @danireneauthor, koko_moe_, @cassie_mags, @lizziminto, @love2read_, @lakerl24vr, @73jem, @cindymrls, @authorscole, @bellelovebooks, @kinkygirlsbookobsessions, and I’m sure a million others, you guys are my universe. (Ask my hubs, he thinks I’m on Instagram way too much). Like Tinker Bell get strength from clapping, I get strength from you guys, from your likes and love. My heart has grown a million sizes since finding you guys!

  “This is a business of love and labor.”

  -Chester Bennington

  PROLOGUE

  Flesh. Supple, pale, taut, perfect flesh.

  That’s what my step-brother was enjoying as his whore performed for him just beyond the windowed wall of his office. Kate Elliott’s delicate skin and dangerous curves were on full display, well, where they poked out of that tight leather jacket and tiny lace panties anyhow. Her dark wavy hair framed sparkling hazel eyes and luscious pouty lips that cried out repeatedly.

  Nicholas Bryant was a bastard. His self-righteousness and refinement had made my skin crawl since before I could pinpoint or define the terms. Now, the way he handled his woman, the way he pawed at her, spanked her, shoved his dick into her with zero sentiment, made me jealous. And for the first time, not in a way that had me wanting to choke him.

  I wanted to choke her. I wanted to see her body writhe beneath mine. I wanted to watch the fight and fire leave her eyes for just a moment before my thrusts brought her back to life. The way she responded to each and every one of his touches, hard or soft, was perfect. She was perfect. She was the kind of loose woman, with loose morals and a tight pussy that would let me beat her to orgasm.

  Nicholas won after all…

  The thought made me snarl. He always got everything. The good grades, to be team captain, the love of a mother, the success, and now this. This…creature was his. This creature that let him take her ass, sans lube, only to crumble beneath him rather than turn to slap him.

  I’d planned to end it once and for all tonight. He deserved a bullet in the head for what he’d suffered me. And when they hadn’t been in the master suite of Kate’s Hampton estate, I’d shot her fucking pillow in pure, unadulterated frustration. When I saw my brother screaming at security along Highway 27, hope filtered back in. Hope that I could still make him pay for everything. And soon.

  But watching them now…

  There was a decidedly different way to make Nicholas pay for the offenses he’d laid against me. It was her. Kate Elliott was my ticket to destroying my dear, dear brother. I could take a woman that had spunk, and would likely swallow mine, from him. I could do it in front of him—do her in front of him—and he’d crumble in a far deeper sense than simple death.

  He’d made it obvious just by looking at her. There was love and adoration—maybe even worship—and I could smother it. I could wreck everything. And the beauty wa
s that the game was entirely in my hands. Did I want to shoot her? Now? In front of him? It would be particularly tragic. He would cradle a blood-addled body to his chest and cry gut wrenching tears.

  Well to me, they’d be wholly satisfying tears but…

  If I waited, I could toy with them.

  I pocketed both the silencer and the gun I’d been contemplating using in favor of watching. I was treated to her agonized cries and became even more sure of my choice. She wasn’t with me, but I could feel her coming in my bones. In my cock. I’d gotten hard when I watched Kate barrel into the office, shouting, but now… now I hurt. She was fiery, furious, and did things a back alley hooker charged far too much for.

  I patted my gun as I switched the ankle crossed over my knee. There was no sense in using it now. It was far more gratifying this way. They were fucking against the windows, draped across the leather, then back again. Kate was going limp when I started to stroke myself. They were just too good together not to.

  Porn had nothing on my brother and his scene. I hadn’t wanted to tie a woman down, hear her shriek, and shove my dick in her mouth to cut her off this badly since my little sister-in-law. But what was even more tantalizing than Aribella was Kate. She made me thirsty. The kind of thirst that not even a wet pussy would quench. Only days and days of abuse and penetration would soften the likes of my desperation. And, once she was broken, I’d win. Because broken Kate equaled decimated Nicholas.

  Yes, death would be far too simple a solution for my dear, dear, brother. He had to feel loss and desolation as deeply as I did. Kate was the key.

  They fucked. Everywhere. And God damned if it wasn’t so good I jerked myself off. Hot cum still speckled my sleeve as he scooped her up from the couch. A moment later the lights flickered off one by one in their apartment, leaving me to bask in the hazy, faded dark of a New York night.

  I sat there for what felt like hours, both making sure the lights were out and remembering the details of the fucking my step-brother had just handed down. My dick twitched again when I recalled his hand around her throat.

  When I was sure they weren’t going to come back to the main floor, or call security up for that matter, I deftly unlatched the office door and stepped into the chic surroundings of Nicholas’ One Madison office. I ran my fingers over the couch they’d fucked on.

  I even bent to smell it, catching the hint of her womanly, musky, but sweet scent. Filling my lungs with the smell of her made me twitch again. The fact that she was mixed with a flavor I still remembered was Nicholas, made me harder still.

  Revenge was a heady drug.

  I casually walked through the massive apartment, taking in all of what could have been mine. Had he not stolen attention, had he not stolen Aribella away, had he not been him… The name, the reputation, the businesses, they would have been mine for the taking.

  I made sure my fingers touched everything to etch the memory into my flesh for days to come. The bar. A discarded scotch glass. His priceless artwork and ornate furnishings. Her high heels…

  Slow, silent footstep, by slow, silent footstep, I made my way to their bedroom on the third floor, relishing pieces of their life as I went. Luckily, they hadn’t shut the door and I could creep in to watch them as easily in the master bedroom as I had from the veranda.

  A stark naked Kate had fallen asleep, nuzzled into the chest of a bastard-ass Nicholas. Soft white sheets waved and rippled around them giving this marshmallowy dream-like quality to their intimate pose.

  Kate clung to my step-brother so tightly; her hand curled into his chest, begging to claw at flesh. My little angry kitten wanted to claw his heart out too, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

  My hands were moving toward her before I even thought about it. Every fiber of my being was desperate to touch her, to have a response from her. I tucked her hair behind her ear then I let my fingertips follow down her neck, her shoulder, and then toward her breast. I couldn’t help myself when I reached down and grabbed her pert nipple and twisted it between my fingers. It hardened at the same time she moaned and her body bowed toward my step-brother.

  I wanted to jerk off all over again. I wanted to see my hot cum covering her, not my God damned sleeve. The thought of my jizz polka-doting Nicholas was an equally gratifying turn on. He would know immediately what I’d done. What I intended on taking from him.

  But for all his faults, and all the ways I wanted him to suffer, I couldn’t show my hand just yet. He’d gotten smarter. She’d made him stronger. And giving away hints would put my newly formulated plan in jeopardy. I’d likely pay before I had the chance to bury my cock in the sweet folds Nicholas called his. Before I could take the thing he held most dear.

  Her.

  So I twisted her nipple once more, gently this time, and watched as both her and my brother’s bodies rolled against each other. Her pale flesh goose bumped as I traced back down her forearm and let my hand fall away.

  Oh God, how I wanted to see those goose bumps rise in fury and panic as I took her by force…

  So slowly, silently, I turned around and walked as light footed as I could back downstairs. Back to the office, back to the veranda. And with all the skill I’d developed in the hopes of destroying all things Bryant, I slithered down the air ducts with a new, and decidedly more appealing mission:

  Obliterate everything that was Kate Elliott.

  1.

  Ugh. I’m going to murder someone.

  Dawn shown a blush pink on the tips of the skyscrapers of New York—a site that always made me nauseous and more than a little irritable. Anything before 8 a.m. did. I rubbed my eyes, and groaned. It didn’t help that there was a layer of ick coating my skin again. For the past week, I’d felt dirty when I woke. I shook the feeling and tried not to stumble on the stairs as I walked down to the kitchen.

  Why am I doing this again?

  I sighed. Of course the answer was Nicholas Bryant.

  Nicholas Bryant, the man I'd left sprawled in bed, was swiftly becoming my universe. Part of me hated being dependent—being that girl—but I'd learned the hard way I couldn't live without him. We'd been up, down, together, and apart over the past few months. I fully expected we’d turn left or right at some point, but I wasn’t going anywhere. My heartbeat had tuned to his, my breathing too. We made each other stronger, but we also made each other crazy. Bat shit crazy. And lately, with increasing frequency.

  I took a deep breath and pulled the turkey from the fridge so it could continue thawing. I turned back to the stairs, still having a hard time coaxing my eyelids open. All I wanted was to slip back into bed, and with any measure of grace, I’d do it without waking Nick. He rarely slept a full night, and lately it had gotten worse.

  I froze when I found him not only awake, but sitting up, his perfectly chiseled and tanned torso bent over his Blackberry. His brow furrowed deeply where it peaked out of the longer waves of his dark chocolate hair as he stayed focused on the screen. His beautiful blue eyes had undoubtedly shifted to dark and stormy. For the first time, that look didn’t trigger my urge to console, it flared my temper.

  Neither of us took time off from running our respective empires, but we’d promised to leave it be today. Actually, he’d made me promise. The more I recalled of the conversation—okay, fight—the more worked up I got. I scoffed and he didn’t flinch. The clock hadn’t even hit seven and he'd smashed his own demand all to hell. I turned away from him and shoved my hands through my hair.

  “What’s wrong now?” he asked, exasperated.

  I rolled my eyes at my reflection in the bedroom windows; he hadn’t even looked up. Heat rose in my cheeks and a few choice swear words hitched in my throat. Rather than engage, I stomped over to my side of the bed far louder than was absolutely necessary.

  "Nothing." I whipped back the comforter then plopped into bed and yanked the covers back up. I made sure to humph as I spun away from Nick.

  “Kate, I asked you why you're throwing a temper tantrum.”
>
  "Fuck you. I’m not throwing a tantrum.”

  “Kate,” he warned as his eyes studied the exposed nape of my neck. My skin always reacted when he stared intently, this time blanching. "Answer me." His gritty voice betrayed his temper, fraying just like mine.

  "It's not even seven and you're on your God damned phone, Nick,” I shot back as I burrowed further into bed.

  "It can't be helped." He turned icy.

  "It was your idea to disconnect, not mine."

  "Kate." If my name before hadn't been a warning, this time it certainly was.

  "What's so important? Tell me, perhaps I'll understand,” I said, attempting to dial back the edge in my voice.

  I was challenging him and he knew it. Sharing wasn’t Nicholas Bryant’s strong suit and we’d fought repeatedly on the subject. Every moment silence filled the room rather than an answer my irritation ratcheted up.

  Until I broke.

  "Right," I quipped. "I forgot. We don't dothat. You don’t include me, I get upset, someone gets hurt. It's kind of our thing." I shoved the covers again, this time to dart back out of the room.

  Keep your temper, keep your temper, keep your Goddamnedfuckingshitty temper.

  My fingers balled into fists, nails digging into my palms, and my shoulders tensed further as I muttered multiple profanities under my breath as I stomped back down to the kitchen.

  I kept up the banging, reveling in the ruckus of pots and pans. The noises that echoed through the glass box that was our apartment were guaranteed to reach Nick's ears. Not once did I consider whether Jaime, Colton, Terrence, or the three new security detail members were being subjected to my mood.

  Who the fuck cares anyway?

  When I was rational, I blamed the recent friction between Nick and I on lack of sleep and the gunshots that’d been fired in my Hamptons house. Right now, I blamed it on Bryant’s bastard-ass BlackBerry, his distance, and 6:48 a.m. I growled and slammed the bowl in my hands down a few times on the cutting board, letting my frustration out.