Stepbrother Billionaire(59)

“So?” I ask, as he sits down beside me, “What do you think you’re going to do?”

“For starters,” he says, brushing a lock of hair out of my face, “I’m going to open another bottle of wine. Helps me think.”

He offers me his hand and pulls me off the couch, towing me back to the kitchen island.

“Have you talked to your grandparents yet?” he asks me, selecting a bottle of Merlot to start with.

“No,” I say faintly, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t know what the hell I’d even say to them.”

“Say they’re a couple of *s who should f*ck right off,” Emerson shrugs, fetching a wine opener.

“I don’t want them to f*ck off,” I exclaim, “They’re my family, Emerson. Why can’t you understand that that’s important to me?”

“Maybe because I know just how badly family can mess you up,” he replies, popping out the cork.

“You think I don’t know that?” I ask.

“If you do, you seem to have forgotten,” he remarks, taking two wine glasses down from the cupboard.

“Maybe I’m just not ready to give up on my family so easily,” I say without thinking.

Emerson pauses with his back to me, his shoulders going stiff. “What is that supposed to mean, Abby?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.

“Just that I’ve never been the type of person who cuts and runs on the people who care about her,” I say, wavering in my stance.

“And I am?” he asks, irate as he turns to face me. “I was my mother’s nurse for years while my father was away. I’d probably still be taking care of her if she’d ever gotten well enough for outpatient treatment again.”

“I know, Emerson,” I say, edging away from his rage. After the flare of anger I saw go through him at the office today, I don’t want to provoke him any further.

“For f*ck’s sake, I had to raise my mother, rather than have her raise me,” Emerson fumes, clutching the edge of the counter. His knuckles go white with the force of his grip.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice calm, “I know how much you sacrificed for your mom. But you know better than anyone how painful it is, having your family not be there for you. Cutting my grandparents out of my life should be easy, but it’s not for me.”

“It’s not like they’re giving you much of a choice,” Emerson says.

“I just have to figure out a way to get through to them,” I say shaking my head, “Without this job, I’m going to need a place to stay, at least for a little while.”

“You have a place to stay,” Emerson replies quizzically, “Right here.”

“I know you’re letting me stay here tonight,” I tell him, “But I mean long term, Emerson.”

“Maybe I mean long term too, Abby,” he shoots back, his anger fading to determination.

“What are you talking about?” I ask him, “You’re not even staying here long term. You’re going back to London at the end of the week.”

“Only if I decide to keep my job at Bastian,” he says.

I stare at him, jaw hanging out. “You’re not seriously considering quitting?” I ask, “That job is once-in-a-lifetime. Bastian is the best in the field. You can’t walk away from that.”

“Sure I can,” he challenges me, stepping around the island toward me, “After the way Cooper disrespected us this morning? Why would I want to stay?”

“No,” I say, “No, Emerson. You can’t leave that agency on my account.”

“And why not?” he demands, placing his hands on my hips.

“Because,” I splutter, staring up at him, “I can’t...That’s too much pressure! I can’t be responsible for you losing your job.”

“I’m responsible for you losing yours,” he points out.

“Yeah. But,” I stammer, resting my hands on his firm chest.

“I was doing perfectly well before Bastian hired me,” Emerson says, “I can do perfectly well without them now.”

“But what if you start resenting me? You know...for making you leave?” I ask, unable to meet his gaze.

“That would never happen,” he says, turning my face toward his.

“You don’t know that,” I insist.

“Yes I do,” he says, his eyes flashing angrily. “I know myself, Abby. I know what I care about. And what I care about above all is you. I don’t want to work for any company that doesn’t value you as much as I do.”

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” I ask, taking a step away from him.

“Anything we want!” he exclaims, “I have enough money saved up from my first few app sales to last us two lifetimes!”

“And I’m just supposed to be content, living off your money?” I ask archly, crossing my arms. “Remember how well that worked for my dad? And your mom?”

“It’s not the same thing,” he says sternly.

“I don’t see any difference,” I say, shaking my head. “My dad never had any pride in himself, because he just lived off his parents’ money his whole life. I was already headed down that road with my grandparents, but Bastian was finally going to get me on my own two feet. I need to find another job, another way to be independent, not another meal ticket.”