My Fault (Culpable Book 1)

What a damn idiot!

As I climbed the stairs, stomping as loud as I could, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ten minutes I’d spent with my new idiot stepbrother. How could he be such a dickhead, a stuck-up psycho? God, I couldn’t stand him, and there was no way I could deal with living with him. It was bad enough that he was my mother’s new husband’s son, but after what had happened, my annoyance had reached stratospheric levels.

This was supposed to be the perfect adorable little boy my mother had told me about?

I hated how he talked to me, how he looked at me. As if he were better than me just because he had money. He had looked me up and down and then laughed…laughed right in my face.

I slammed the door behind me as I walked into my room, but the place was so big no one would hear me. It was night out, and barely any light entered my window. In the darkness, the sea was black, and I couldn’t see the dividing line between it and the sky.

Nervous, I hurriedly turned on the light.

I went straight to the bed and jumped on it, staring up at the beams in the ceiling. To top it off, I was supposed to have dinner with them. Did my mother not realize that the last thing I felt like doing right now was being surrounded by people? I needed to be alone, to rest, to take stock of all the changes happening in my life, to accept them and learn to live with them, even if deep down I knew that was impossible.

I grabbed my phone, not sure whether to call my boyfriend, Dan. I didn’t want him to worry when he heard the bitterness in my voice. I’d only been in California an hour, and already his absence stung.

Ten minutes after I went up, my mother came in. At least she bothered knocking, but then she walked right in when I didn’t answer.

“Noah, in fifteen minutes we need to be downstairs,” she said patiently.

“You say that like it takes an hour and a half just to walk down the steps,” I responded, sitting up in bed. My mother had let her blond hair down and combed it. She looked elegant. We hadn’t even been here two hours, and already she looked like a different person.

“I’m saying this because you need to change clothes first.” She ignored my tone.

Not understanding, I looked down at my outfit.

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” I asked defensively.

“You’re wearing sneakers, Noah. We have to dress up tonight. You don’t think you’re going to go out in shorts and a T-shirt, do you?” she asked, exasperated.

I stood up and faced her. My patience with this day was at an end.

“Let’s see if you can get this through your head, Mom. I don’t want to go to dinner with you and your husband, I have no interest in getting to know his spoiled demon of a son, and I’m certainly not getting dressed up for it.” I tried to control my overwhelming urge to take her car and drive off into town.

“Stop acting like a five-year-old, put on your clothes, and come to dinner with me and your new family.” Her tone was harsh. But when she saw my expression, her face relaxed, and she said, “I’m not asking you to do this every day. Just tonight. Please. For me.”

I took a few deep breaths, swallowed down all the things I wanted to say, and nodded.

“Just tonight.”

When my mother left, I walked into the closet. Disgusted with everything and everyone, I looked for an outfit that would be comfortable and that I wouldn’t hate. I wanted to show them I could be an adult, too. Nicholas’s amused, unbelieving expression as he gawked at me with his bright eyes was still stuck in my mind. He had looked at me like I was just a little girl he was having fun scaring with his horrible dog.

My suitcase was open on the floor. I kneeled down and started going through my clothes. My mother was probably expecting me to go down in something she’d bought me, but that was the last thing I was considering. If I gave in, I’d be setting a bad precedent. Accepting that clothing was like accepting this new life; it would mean losing my dignity.

In a rage, I picked my black Ramones dress. Who could say it wasn’t elegant? I looked around for some shoes. I wasn’t a shoe girl, but if I went downstairs in my Chucks, my mother would definitely lose her cool and tell me to change. Finally I chose some decent-looking sandals with a little bit of a heel—nothing I couldn’t manage.

I walked over to the giant mirror on one of the walls and looked at myself slowly. My friend Beth would certainly approve. And I think Dan had always found that dress sexy.

I let down my hair and smoothed it out, and I put a little gloss on my lips. Satisfied with the result, I grabbed a small purse and headed for the door.

Just as I opened it, I found Nicholas, who stopped to look me over while that wicked Thor stood beside him. I couldn’t help taking a step back.

For some inexplicable reason, my new brother smiled, and his eyes shone with some obscure, indecipherable emotion.

“Didn’t anyone teach you how to dress out there in the boonies?” he said.

I gave him my most angelic smile.

“Yeah…but whoever tried was a dickhead, kind of like you, so I guess I never paid attention.”

He didn’t expect that answer, and I certainly didn’t expect to see a smile spread across those sensuous lips. I suddenly noticed again how tall and virile he was. He was wearing slacks and a button-down with the top two buttons undone. No tie. I didn’t let the cool blue of those eyes intimidate me. Instead, I looked over at his dog. Instead of stalking me like a killer, he was now wagging his tail with interest.

“Your dog seems completely different. Are you going to tell him to attack me now, or will you wait till after dinner?” I grinned, feigning friendliness.

“I don’t know, Freckles. Depends on how you behave.” With that, he turned his back to me and walked downstairs.

I stood still for a few seconds, trying to control my emotions. Freckles! He’d called me Freckles! He was looking for trouble…real trouble.

I walked behind him, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t worth it to get angry over his remarks or the way he looked at me or just the fact of his being there. He was one of many people who were destined to get on my nerves in this city, so I might as well get used to it.

Once I was downstairs, I found myself surprised again at the magnificence of the house. It felt somehow old but at the same time sophisticated and modern. Waiting for my mother, ignoring the person next to me, I looked at the crystal lamp hanging between the beams in the ceiling. It must have been made of thousands of pieces of glass that seemed to fall like frozen raindrops, as though wanting to reach the ground but forced to linger in the air for who knew how long.

Our eyes met briefly, but instead of looking away myself, I decided to try to make him do it instead. I didn’t want him to think he was getting to me, that he could just treat me as he liked.

But his eyes didn’t budge. He was observing me with unbelievable determination. Right when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, my mother appeared with William.

“Well, the gang’s all here,” he said, looking at us and smirking. For me, the occasion was utterly joyless. “I’ve reserved a table at the club. I hope you all are hungry.” He headed for the door with my mother hanging off his arm.

Mom’s eyes turned to saucers when she saw my dress.

“What are you wearing?” she whispered in my ear.

I pretended not to listen and walked outside. The air was warm and refreshing, and I could hear the waves in the distance breaking against the shore.

“You want to ride with us, Nick?” William asked his son.

But he had already turned his back and was walking toward an immaculate black 4×4 that stood high off the ground. It must have just come from the dealership. I rolled my eyes. Typical!

“I’ll take mine,” he said, turning around as he opened the door. “I’m hanging out with Miles after dinner. We’re going to finish the report on the Refford case.”

“Excellent,” his father said. I had no idea what they were talking about. “Maybe you want to ride with him to the club, Noah? That way you can get to know each other a little better?” William seemed to think he’d just had the most brilliant idea ever.

I looked over at Nick, who had raised an eyebrow waiting for my response. He seemed to think the whole situation was funny.

“I don’t want to ride with someone if I don’t know how they drive,” I said to my new stepfather, hoping that would hit his son where it hurt. Most guys don’t appreciate the implication that they can’t drive. Turning away from the SUV, I got into Will’s black Mercedes, enjoying the solitude of the back seat as we crisscrossed streets on our way to some rich guys’ club.

All I wanted was for the night to end as soon as possible, to finish this happy family act that my mother and her husband were trying to create, and to go back to my room to try to rest.

Fifteen minutes later, we entered a kind of suburb with big, well-groomed yards. It was night, but I could read the brightly lit sign by the road welcoming us to the Mary Read Yacht Club. Before letting us through, a guard in a fancy cabin next to a gate peeked out to see who was in the car. It was evident he recognized the driver.

“Mr. Leister, good evening. Miss,” he added, turning to my mother.

My new stepfather said hello to the guard, and we entered the club.

“Noah, your member’s card will be here next week, but if you need in before then, just say my name or Ella’s,” he said, looking over at my mother.

It felt like a jab in the heart when I heard him call her that. That had been my father’s name for her, and I was sure my mother didn’t care for it at all—too many bad memories. But how was she going to tell her wonderful new husband that?

My mother was a pro at forgetting things that were sad or difficult. Whereas I kept them inside, deep inside, until they all finally exploded and came out.

We stopped the car right at the door to the luxurious establishment. A valet let my mother and me out, took a tip from William, and drove the car off to who knows where.

The restaurant was amazing. Everything seemed made of glass. I could see a couple of tables from where I stood, along with huge aquariums full of crabs, fish, and squid waiting to be killed and served. I felt someone behind me, a breath on my ear that gave me the shivers. When I turned, I saw Nicholas. Even with my heels on, he was half a head taller than me. He barely even looked at me.

“I’ve got a reservation under the name William Leister,” William said to the hostess. For some strange reason, her expression changed, and she hurried to led us through the dining room, which was at once packed, calm, and cozy.

Our table was in one of the best spots, with the same warm candlelight that prevailed all over the restaurant. The glass wall gave an impressive view of the ocean. I wondered if those kinds of transparent walls were common in California.

I was freaking out, to tell the truth.

We sat down, and right away my mother and William started chatting and smiling like infatuated fools. In the meantime, I noticed the astonished, incredulous look the waitress gave Nick.

He didn’t seem to realize it. He just toyed with the tiny salt shaker. His hands were very well cared for, tan, and big. I looked from them to his arms until I reached his face, and I noticed that his eyes were looking at me with interest. I held my breath.

“What are you going to order?” my mother asked, breaking the spell.

I let them pick for me, since I didn’t know what half the dishes on the menu were anyway. While we waited and I stirred my iced tea, distracted, William tried to drag his son and me into a conversation.

“I was telling Noah earlier about all the sports you can practice here in the club, Nick. Nicholas plays basketball, and he’s one heck of a surfer, too.”

A surfer. How cliché. I’d thought Nicholas was sitting there bored, but he clearly noticed my disdain. He bent over the table, rested both his elbows on it, and put me on the spot. “Something amusing, Noah?” He did all he could to sound friendly, but I knew deep down I’d gotten to him. “Do you think surfing is silly or something?”

Before my mother could answer—I knew she was about to—I copied him, bending over.

“You said it, not me.” And I gave him an innocent smile.

I liked team sports, sports with strategy that required a good leader and consistency and hard work. I’d found all that in volleyball, and I was sure that surfing couldn’t compare.

Before he could respond—and I could tell he wanted to—the waitress arrived, and he looked at her as if he knew her.

My mother and William got into an animated conversation when a couple stopped to say hi to them.

The waitress was young with dark brown hair and was wearing a black apron. She laid the plates on the table and, while doing so, bumped Nick’s elbow unintentionally.

“Sorry, Nick,” she said, then turned to me as if she’d made a mistake. From Nick’s expression, I could see that something weird was going on with them.

Since our parents were distracted, I bent over and asked, to clear up my doubts, “You know her?”

“Who?” he asked, playing dumb.

“The waitress,” I replied, observing his reactions. He didn’t give away anything. He was serious but relaxed. I realized then that Nicholas Leister was very good at hiding his thoughts.

“Yeah, she’s taken care of me before,” he answered, seeming to dare me to contradict him. Well, well, well, Nick’s a little liar. Why didn’t that surprise me?

“Yeah, I’ll bet she’s taken care of you lots of times.”

“What are you getting at, little sister?” This time, the term made me smile.

“How you rich people are all the same—you think that having money makes you the kings of the world. That girl hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked in the door. It’s obvious she knows you.” Somewhat angrily, though I didn’t know why, I continued, “And you won’t even look at her. It’s disgusting.”

“You’ve got some very interesting theories about rich people, as you call them. I can tell you don’t like them. Of course, that’s not stopping you and your mother from living under our roof and enjoying all the comforts money can buy. If you hate us so much, what are you doing sitting at this table?”

I tried to control my temper. He knew how to get under my skin.

“Seems to me you and your mother are even worse off than that waitress,” he confessed, being sure I alone could hear him. “You pretend to be something you’re not, when both of you have sold yourselves for money.”

That was too much. I was blind with rage.

I grabbed the glass in front of me and tried to throw its contents in his face.

Too bad it was empty.