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Excerpt

I have no words for the self-loathing, anger, and all-round disbelief for what just happened.

I drive home in a daze, simultaneously feeling satisfied and disgusted. It churns in my gut.

Flashes of Darcy bent over his desk keep showing up uninvited in my head, and if I thought that’s all I wanted from him, that having him would cure me of this sick lust I have for him, I was fucking wrong.

Because despite being angry at him for keeping this from me, despite still technically being brothers but with no blood relation, I want that to happen again.

We were able to separate emotions from the hot sex in the moment, but now, doing the drive home of shame and realizing we could be Game of Thrones characters, all I feel is … regret.

Maybe I should’ve stayed so we could talk it out, but there was no way. I had to get out of there.

Arriving home, I open the door to find Remy back from his shift at the firehouse. His hours are all over the place, so I haven’t checked in with him for a while, and one look at my face lets him know I messed up.

“What’s wrong?”

I still don’t have the words because how are you supposed to say, “I had sex with my brother who’s not really my brother, and it turns out I was the rightful heir to the MediaCorp company, its shares, the money … it was all supposed to be mine, and Darcy took it from me.”

Oh. I guess exactly like that.

“Holy fuck, Wren. That’s … a lot.”

And as if getting that validation from Remy opens the floodgates, I drop to my knees right here in the entry to my living room. Remy rushes over and helps me to my feet, but even though he’s a paramedic firefighter, he’s small, and I’m a heavy guy, so it takes a while for us to stumble to the couch.

I’m lead.

I’m sinking while trying to swim against a tide that’s too powerful to fight.

If I thought the identity crisis I went through when I found out who my biological father is was bad, it’s nothing compared to now.

“Wren, it’s okay. It’s—”

“It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have snooped. I shouldn’t have wanted Darcy so badly that I had to prove we weren’t related. Because now what? Now …”

“Now you dethrone that motherfucker,” my very unhelpful cousin says.

“I don’t want to dethrone him. I don’t want the company. And if it gets out that Darcy isn’t a Ritcherson—”

“It’ll go to your wicked half brothers, Disphit One and Dipshit Two.”

“Actually, Tobias isn’t so bad now.”

“Good to know.”

“I’m pretty sure he still hates me, but he doesn’t show it as much as Junior.”

Remy smiles.

“What?”

“I think you like being part of that family.”

I go to protest, but I can’t. Because he’s right. Toby’s growing on me, and Darcy … Ergh, I can’t fight what’s between us. Whatever it is.

Lust. Connection. Brotherly … love?

I shudder.

“Okay, I didn’t think you’d react so violently to that,” Remy says.

“It’s not that. It’s that I think you’re right, and sleeping with Darcy has gone and fucked everything up.”

“How?”

“Because … I already said I don’t want the company, and neither of us want Junior to have the company, which means Darcy has to keep up pretenses that he’s Warren’s son. Or he loses everything.”

The anger inside me dims. I know he said that. He said that he has fought his whole life to get where he is on top of the burden of knowing he wasn’t the one who deserved it by birthright.

And how nonsensical is that anyway? Darcy is the right man for the job, regardless of blood.

The whole will and inheritance system is messed up.

“If you two want to be together …”

“It won’t matter. Because it can’t happen.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

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About the Author

Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.

She doesn't take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.

With a short attention span that rivals her son's, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF.

She's also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don't make sense to anyone else.

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About the Author

Saxon James unapologetically writes happy endings for LGBT+ characters.

While not writing, SM is a readaholic and Netflix addict who regularly lives on a sustainable diet of chocolate and coffee.

Member of SCBWI.

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