Page 68 of The Plus One Contract

She’s still ranting about how everything’s his fault, but I try to tune it out as I slip into the kitchen, flicking on a harsh overhead light.

A few minutes later, the sound of cursing fades. I hear softer murmurs and then a dull thump. Maybe she collapsed on the couch.

The kitchen is as bad as the living room. Dirty dishes, half-eaten food crusted on plates, a sour odor of old beer. I fight a wave of nausea and start tidying up on instinct, collecting bottles and scrubbing counters. Anything to keep my hands busy. My ears strain for sounds from the other room. I hear his mother’s voice rise once or twice, then hush as Nathan presumably tries to calm her. There’s a distant crash, followed by more muffled curses. My heart bangs against my ribcage.

Should I check on him?

Before I can decide, footsteps echo behind me. I spin, expecting to see Nathan. But it’s not.

A man stands in the doorway, maybe in his early thirties, with hair the same dark shade as Nathan’s but hanging in uneven lengths around his ears, like he gave up on haircuts. He’s dressed in worn jeans, a rumpled flannel, and scuffed boots. His features are sharper, leaner, and there’s a faint bruise along his jaw. Despite the differences, I see a flicker of Nathan in those eyes. Though, these ones are clouded by something harsh and jaded.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands.

I swallow.

This must be Nathan’s brother. The one he never speaks to. The tension rolling off him sends a chill through me.

“I—uh—Sienna. I’m Nathan’s friend.”

He scoffs. “Friend, huh. Didn’t know he had those, ‘specially female ones he brings around.” His gaze rakes over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Saw his fancy SUV out front. Figured it was him or the mailman delivering his big checks again.”

I tense. “Right. Um. He’s with your mother,” I manage, pointing lamely toward the living room.

“Of course he is,” the brother drawls, stepping inside. He opens the fridge and rummages until he finds a beer.

Popping the tab, he takes a swig and smirks. “So she called him too, huh? Guess that means I can get the hell out.”

He strides to the small kitchen table and drops heavily into a chair, elbow resting on the shaky surface. An uneasy prickle races down my spine. I shift, clearing more trash from the counter, telling myself Nathan is just down the hall. I’m safe. Still, something about the brother’s presence screamsdanger.

“How often does this happen?” I ask quietly, glancing his way. It’s half rhetorical. I’m not even sure I want the answer.

He gives a short laugh. “Whenever she’s bored or needs new drama. Golden boy rides in to save the day. The rest of us aren’t worth her time, or maybe we’re not rich enough.” He sneers the last words.

I press my lips together. “Nathan’s just helping her.”

The brother’s eyes flick to me. “That’s what he does, right? Mister Perfect. Fixes everything. Some of us see right through it.” He leans forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You sleeping with him?”

My cheeks burn. “What?”

He chuckles, a low, humorless sound that sets my teeth on edge. “He always liked to keep his personal life hush-hush. But you’re here, in broad daylight. Means either you’re special, or he’s losing his edge.” His gaze slides across my body in a way that’s more invasive than any of Nathan’s deliberate stares.

A tense silence lingers. I edge around the counter, tossing more trash. Every muscle in my body hums with unease.

“So, do you live here?” I ask, grasping for something normal to say.

He gives a short bark of laughter. “God, no. I sure as hell don’t live under Nate’s dime. Been a while since I stepped foot here, but she called me earlier, babbling about Simon. Didn’t bother to show until now. Guess I was curious.” He rakes his eyes over me again, a shiver of revulsion slithering down my spine. “Didn’t expect to seeyou.”

I press my lips together. “I’m just helping him. He’s handling your mother, so I figured I’d tidy—”

“That’s what he does. He handles things. Except me. I handle myself.” Another swig. “Maybe if he’s busy, that means you’re free to keep me company.”

The compulsion to call Nathan’s name spikes, but I don’t want to drag him out of dealing with his mother. This is my problem for the moment.

His twisted grin widens. “Oh, come on. He never was good at sharing. Maybe I should find out if he’s changed his ways.” He stands, drifting closer. “How about it? Think your fancy boy would mind if I borrowed you?”

Revulsion slams through me. “Don’t even—”

Suddenly, there’s a voice behind me, colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Watch your fucking mouth when you speak to her,” Nathan growls. “In fact, don’t even look at her.”

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