One Night With The Wrong Brother

I thought I was waking up in the arms of Arthur, the man I loved. But as the morning light hit the Hamptons estate, the man buttoning his cuffs by the window turned around with eyes like chips of ice. It was Augustus Riddle, Arthur’s cruel younger brother, and I had just spent the night whispering confessions of love into the wrong man's ear. The night I thought was a beautiful beginning turned into a devastating nightmare. Instead of comfort, Gus treated me like a stain on his expensive carpet, scribbling a check for "services rendered" before shoving me into a dark service corridor to hide my existence from his brother. "How much does it cost to buy your silence?" He sneered, before leaving me barefoot in a torrential downpour while he drove away in a luxury Cadillac. Four years later, I am a struggling actress in Los Angeles, working double shifts as a barista just to keep the lights on. My life was finally stable until my roommate dragged me to a high-end dinner to meet her new "influential" boyfriend. The man sitting at the table, looking more arrogant and lethal than ever, was Augustus. He spent the entire night humiliating me, calling me a pathetic amateur and a social climber in front of my only friends. When I fled into the rain and collapsed on the sidewalk, skinning my knee until I bled, he watched from his car. He saw me clutching a plastic baggie containing the taped-together pieces of that four-year-old check—the only proof of my shame. He looked at me like roadkill, rolled up his window, and drove off into the dark. I couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why did he hate me enough to crush me, yet remember that I couldn't handle the smell of cigarette smoke? Why did he leave me bleeding in the street, only to send expensive medical supplies and coffee to my door the very next morning? "I'm moving out." I told my roommates, realizing that Gus Riddle didn't just want to destroy me; he wanted to haunt me. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out with eighty dollars to my name, finally ready to disappear into the city before he could burn the rest of my life to the ground.

Chapters

Chapter 6

The champagne bottle was empty. Kylie was flushed and loud.

"This place is dying down," Kylie announced, clapping her hands. "We should go to Nightingale Plaza. I know the promoter."

Gus leaned back, spinning his gold lighter on the table. "I'm tired."

"Oh, come on, Gus!" Kylie whined. She grabbed his arm. "Don't be a grandpa. Besides..." She turned her gaze to Katherine, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Kat can sing for us. Did you know she sings? She's terrible at acting, but she has a voice."

Katherine's head snapped up. "Kylie, no."

"Why not?" Kylie laughed. "Gus hasn't heard you. Maybe he can put you in his movie if you impress him. Sing something, Kat. Right now."

"We are in a restaurant," Katherine hissed. "I am not a circus animal."

"Oh, don't be such a prude," Kylie sneered. "Just a few bars. Sing that song you're always humming in the shower."

The table fell silent. People at nearby tables were looking. Katherine felt like she was shrinking, disappearing. She felt naked.

"Sing," Kylie commanded.

Katherine looked at Gus. She pleaded with her eyes. Help me.

Gus looked at her. He saw the panic. He saw the humiliation.

His hand slammed down on the lighter.

BANG.

The sound was startlingly loud. Kylie jumped.

"I have no interest," Gus said, his voice cold and hard as steel, "in listening to an amateur performance."

Kylie blinked. "I was just-"

"It's pathetic," Gus said. He didn't look at Kylie. He looked straight at Katherine. "Begging for attention in a restaurant. Have some self-respect."

The words were a slap in the face. He had stopped Kylie, yes. But he had done it by crushing Katherine.

A wave of nausea rolled over Katherine. It started in her stomach and rose to her throat-acidic and hot. It was the same sickness she had felt that morning in the Hamptons.

She stood up so fast her chair screeched against the floor.

"Excuse me," she choked out. "Restroom."

She grabbed her purse and ran. She didn't look back.

If she had, she would have seen Gus watching her go. She would have seen his hand clenched into a fist on the table, the knuckles white.

"She's so dramatic," Kylie huffed, reaching for her glass. "She has zero thick skin."

Gus turned his head slowly to look at Kylie. His eyes were dark, terrifying voids.

"Check," he barked at a passing waiter.

He threw a black American Express card onto the tray. He didn't wait for the bill.

"We're leaving," Gus said.

"But Nightingale..." Kylie started.

"Now," Gus said. The tone of his voice brooked no argument. It was the voice of a man hanging onto his control by a thread.

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