Page 1 of My Filthy Stepbrother
1
DAKOTA
The sight of nearly a dozen people in windbreaker jackets that sport the bold lettersFBIacross the back, hustling in and out of the building in front of me, gives me anxiety. My heart pounds against my chest because it's the building I work in. The flurry of activity and officers holding people back from entering force me to check the time.
It's clear that I'm going to be late for work, but what's worse is I'm not sure if there's aworkto go to. I approach an officer, ready to ask what's going on when they turn away from me, gesturing with their hand for me to join the crowd of onlookers.
A woman who normally wears an eternal smile every morning catches my eye. Cheryl's a staple around the office with her chipper disposition. Instead of hounding the officer, I weave around the crowd gathering on the sidewalk until I'm standing beside her.
"What's going on, Cheryl?" I ask.
She whips around to face me when I notice the smile she wears like an emotional support blanket isn't flashing me likethe morning sun. Tears stream down her cheeks instead as she blubbers through her words.
"It's Mr. Adams. He's been caught embezzling company funds. I just emailed everyone. Direct from the board. Operations are shut down immediately."
My eyes widen in horror as panic sets in. "What do you mean, immediately? For how long?"
"For the foreseeable future were the words told to me." Cheryl sobs and sniffs back tears. She inhales every syllable as she says, "I loved this place."
Cheryl's reaction is a reality check for me. I sigh, telling her, "It's not like we're saving lives here or anything. Renting studio space to freelancers, influencers,and anyone else in need of space with special effects doesn't exactly warrant this kind of attention. The FBI feels like something heavier is going on. Are you sure it's embezzling?"
"That's what one girl from the executive floor said. I don't actually know what's going on. If you get any leads on some openings, Dakota, I can give you a reference if you need."
"Thanks, Cheryl. I'll probably take you up on that. Any word on our paychecks?"
The look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. Still, she delivers the blow with sobs creeping back into her voice. "Assets of the company are frozen. No one's getting paid until these guys get done with their investigation. Either that or hopefully, the corporate insurance is in order. Maybe they can dispatch emergency payroll funds, but I don't know how long that's going to take."
"Fuck," I hiss under my breath. I take one last look at the building and then at Cheryl. "I guess this is goodbye, then. Thanks for hiring me, and I hope you find something soon."
She pulls me into a hug. "Thanks, sweetie. I'm so sorry about all of this. I know things are tough since you just graduated, but the two months you've been working here can still look good on your resume."
I gently push away from her. "Don't apologize. This isn't your fault. Take care of yourself, Cheryl."
We part ways and I make my way back to my 12-year-old car that's in desperate need of every checkup and tuneup I can imagine. My clothes and everything I own sit in the back seat because despite having a job, no one's in a rush to rent me an apartment with only two months of work history and even less credit history. There are a few motels in this little town that are fine for a few nights, but none are secure enough to just leave my things inside.
After tossing one last look over my shoulder, I know I have to say goodbye to what could have been. A great job right out of college was too good to be true. Two months post graduation and I already have to go home as a failure. At least the gas tank is full. I'll have to use every bit of it for the four-hour drive back to Tamworth.
The drive from Jersey City, New Jersey to Maryland isn't bad at all, but pulling up to my stepdad's house makes me want to keep driving. Tamworth, Maryland is a small town that's never worth mentioning, and I often tell people I'm from Baltimore just to avoid the questions.
Oh, where is that? Are you next to the capital? Can you see the White House?
Shaking my head, I shut the car off that's thankful for the break, and step out into the afternoon sun. That's when I saw him. I haven't been back here in over a year, and Dean missed my graduation. If I have to put a time on it, it's been just shy of three years since we've crossed paths.
Dean Dawson is the kind of handsome that makes a girl drool. There's this charisma oozing out of every pore of his chiseled biceps.
The heavy thud of his steps echo across the soft breeze of the afternoon. He makes his way toward the rickety metal front gate of the ranch-style home, where the lawn needs mowing and the concrete pathway could use some repaving.
He's in black tactical cargo pants, a royal blue polo shirt, with black sunglasses that block those soft gray eyes. The way the corner of his mouth turns up once he's in front of me gives me hope that he sees me as more than a little sister.
"Is that my Cody?" he asks.
His Cody? I wonder what it's truly like to be his.
Sensations of lust ripple across my body as his husky voice and the citrus scent of his cologne swarm around me.
"Hey, Dean." I manage to squeak out the greeting like I'm still a hormonal 15-year-old girl. For fuck's sake, I'm 22. I'm a college graduate. I'm a grown woman, a woman who's unemployed and standing in front of this home waiting to go inside with my tail between my legs.
He tips his head to the side, pulls his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, and looks at me before glancing at the back seat of my car.
