10. Ciaran

10

CIARAN

U m what? Why the hell would that be the first thing you said to someone upon meeting them? In that instant I knew I would not get along with Matthias Vaulteneau.

I took him in.

Leaning against one of the turret pillars, with his legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, he looked like he was posing for a magazine shoot. He reminded me of a model in a cologne commercial—dark, alluring, mysterious, though today he wasn't as dressed up like he was in the photos from last night.

He was casually dressed in jeans that hung at his waist, with a loosely tucked-in, faded concert T-shirt, flip-flops, and sunglasses. He was solidly built. A bronze god. Wide span shoulders, slim waist, ropey arms. Everything about him said swimmer as well as surfer.

His dark brown hair was on the longer side, blowing in the warm breeze. On anyone else I'd say he was in need of a haircut, but he wore it well. His facial features were chiseled from a masterpiece. Strong, perfect brows. A Grecian nose. High cheekbones and a masculine jaw.

In short, he was Trouble with a capital T.

Matthias wasn't smiling, but then again, neither was I as we inspected each other like fighters entering a ring.

"Were you under the impression you thought I'd want you to kiss me like that?" I asked Matthias as casually as possible because now all I could think about was him kissing me. It was stupid and completely his fault.

Though, to be fair, our parents were kissing each other like we did not exist.

It was a beautiful kiss between two people who clearly loved one another. There was no other way to describe the way Stefon kissed my mother. It was like a scene from the movie Notorious when Cary Grant passionately kissed Ingrid Bergman.

My mom's new husband looked like a man who owned the world and wasn't afraid to let you know it. Stefon was trim and confident in a dark gray suit. Mom said he wasn't handsome in the traditional sense, and he wasn't, but there was something magnetic about him. Instinctively, I knew I had nothing to worry about. Mom made the right choice for her, for us, by marrying Stefon. If nothing else, I knew deep in my soul that the man was nuts about her.

I could forgive two people madly in love who forgot about their offspring. It was somewhat humorous when they slipped inside the mansion without making proper introductions.

Matthias's hooded eyes watched me.

"Of course not," he said. A smug smile tugged on his lips and I sensed I'd been judged and found lacking. What an arrogant asshole. Then he straightened as if he remembered he was supposed to at least pretend to be a gracious host. He grumbled out, "I'm Matthias."

"Yeah. I kinda figured that one out on my own. I'm Ciaran."

He just rolled his eyes as if that were obvious, and I guess it was.

"Follow me, Ciaran," he ordered in a voice that didn't invite questions. "Dad informed me that you'll be staying in the guesthouse."

The guesthouse? That told me what my mom's husband thought of me.

"Banished to the guesthouse already?" I asked, studying Matthias's broad back, watching his muscles move beneath the shirt. One shoulder was lower than the other, like maybe he'd hurt it, but otherwise he walked like a prince. Confident, carefree, cocky. Though it was a surprise that he managed to pronounce my name correctly. "Afraid I might steal the silver or guzzle the fancy cognac?"

Matthias just grunted at me like I was a wayward brat he was suddenly responsible for.

The Vaulteneau estate resembled an upscale resort, with multiple swimming pools—one of which had a waterfall—a botanical garden, and a hidden grotto lagoon. There was even a patch of grass to play putt-putt golf. The only thing missing was a zoo.

The estate had been built into the cliff, so it was deeper than it looked, with multiple levels with panoramic views. It'd take me years to explore it all, not that I planned to be here longer than was necessary.

Palm trees rose up. The sun beamed down like everything was all right in the world. A cool breeze from the Pacific Ocean brought with it sweet flowers, salty ocean spray, and the crashing of the waves below.

I thought it'd be warmer, but earlier Mom had explained that the ocean's temperature was below sixty this time of year, which could make mornings and nights chilly.

"Home sweet home," Matthias said as he pushed open the front door to the guesthouse. He shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. His body was stiff, closed off, as if he didn't want me to get to know him. The guesthouse, which did not compare to the castle out front, was still a mansion. "And no, I don't like this arrangement any more than you do."

"Trust me when I say I like it less than you do," I bit back, which earned me an angry flash of those deep brown eyes.

So the Prince of Malibu had emotions? Point for me.

Stepping inside, I was met with dark wood floors, dark green—almost black—walls with cascading vines and other plants, accented with light gray couches and chairs. The chandelier was a million threads of lights wound together in some architectural design I couldn't name, though I found its cohesive disjointedness pleasing.

A stone fireplace occupied a quarter of one wall while the rest of it contained bookshelves, filled top to bottom. I already knew I'd enjoy lingering over the tomes housed on the bookshelves. The guesthouse was one large open space on the first floor, with a large dining room in the back. Next to that was a designer kitchen with gleaming appliances and a wide marble island.

Through it all, the veranda was wide open, and I could see the ocean on the other side. Surfboards were stacked lengthwise against a pillar.

Matthias shifted to the stairs. "Bedrooms are on the second floor."

"Are all the bedrooms occupied in the main house?" I asked as his firm ass mesmerized me as he climbed the stairs.

I flicked my gaze away. Jesus, the guy was my stepbrother. What the fuck was wrong with me?

"Why? Are you worried about your safety? The bedrooms have locks, in case you get scared at night."

"From you?" I scoffed, which earned me another glare. I was beginning to like this. "Hardly. Just trying to figure out where you hang out so I can avoid that part of the estate."

Matthias's nostrils flared. "Dad's giving the staff a holiday while he and Theresa are on their honeymoon. Most of the house will be closed up. However, feel free to explore to your heart's content. I don't plan on babysitting you."

"I'm shattered you didn't think to schedule play dates for me."

He groused out a "Little fucker," which made me chuckle, and something like a thin smile tugged on his lips. Maybe Matthias wasn't so much of an asshole after all. He was probably just as irritated about the elopement as I was, though it wasn't like his whole life had been uprooted.

Matthias showed me a massive bathroom with double sinks, a deep tub, and a walk-in shower big enough to hold ten people. No lie, I liked the idea of having the place to myself.

We walked by an open door to a bedroom that looked occupied. A dark blue bedspread was rumpled on the mattress. The floor was a mess, full of clothes, shoes, and odds and ends. The desk was cluttered with books and an open laptop, while a massive entertainment center was jam-packed with a large TV and gaming consoles. University of Southern California Trojans flare hung from the walls. In the far corner, a decorative wooden surfboard hung longwise against the wall.

What impressed me the most, however, was that the external wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, and a sliding door that led to a wide deck.

Matthias kept going, but I asked, "Whose bedroom is this?"

"Mine."

It took me a second to register what he said.

" You live in the guesthouse?"

He wore an expression of boredom. "Yeah, that's what I just said." Then his face split into a shit-eating grin. "Oh, you thought you had the entire guesthouse to yourself? That's hysterical."

Matthias laughed for a full minute, even wiping a tear from his eye, before he sobered, though the grin never fully left his face.

"You don't have to be a dick about it," I fumed, embarrassed. I crossed my arms over my chest. "It's not like I know anything about you, your family, or this estate."

"Don't worry." He opened another door and gestured for me to enter a room that was almost the size of our apartment back in Vegas. "None of us have high expectations about you, either."

"Asshole," I muttered. "Is this my room, or is there another sibling I'm unaware of?"

"Dante, my older brother, lives in Singapore. If he visits, he'll stay in the main house."

I took in the space. My bedroom could only be described as opulent and was large enough to house two or three people.

It had the same dark wood flooring as the main living space, with a dark plush green rug. A massive king-size bed with dove gray sheets and a matching duvet took up prominent space. The same type of entertainment center occupied a narrow wall and there was a desk in the corner. Starting Monday, that's where I'd sit and log in to my old school's network to finish the rest of the year virtually. I was not looking forward to video calls with my teachers, but there might be opportunity to talk to Drew… if he picked up.

I didn't care much for the nautical-themed artwork on the bedroom walls, but it wasn't like I could be picky about paintings that were probably valued at hundreds or thousands of dollars. The space didn't feel like me. I don't know if it—or this place—ever would.

Just like in Matthias's room, the exterior wall contained floor-to-ceiling windows, with a sliding door that led to the deck.

"Good to know I won't be evicted the second my being here is inconvenient for you." A huge welcome basket sat on the coffee table. Through the cellophane I saw snacks, fruits, and gifts. I pointed at the basket. "Did your Dad do that?"

He shook his head. "No. Miss Paulina. She's our housekeeper. Just let her know if you need anything. You can tell Franky, too."

"Franky?"

"My assistant."

Ah, right, servants. I'd have to get used to servants being everywhere when I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts and my books. My cellphone burned in my back pocket, begging to be picked up, to see if Mr. Jones—Drew—replied to my text after Mom and I had landed. I resisted the urge while Matthias was around.

I made my way out onto the deck and gripped the metal railing that overlooked the ocean. It was, hands down, a magnificent view.

A strong breeze smacked me in the face. The gray-blue ocean spread out for as far as the eye could see. The day was turning overcast, with gray clouds blocking the sun. With the palm trees and foliage at the edge of the property, I couldn't see straight down, so I couldn't tell if the beach was sandy or rocky.

Looking down, I spotted a trail that trekked along the edge.

"Is that a footpath to the beach below?" I asked.

"It might be," Matthias said as he came to stand beside me. "Jumping is always an option. It's a good two hundred feet down. I dare you."

I studied him. Up close, he almost took my breath away, so I quickly turned my attention back to the cliff.

"I don't do dares, Matthias."

He seemed to take a minute to process my statement. "We'll see about that."

I was about to respond when I heard a murmur of voices behind us. Beside me, Matthias stiffened.

Looking into the bedroom, two men came in to deliver my luggage and boxes from the plane. I turned back to Matthias. I could tell he'd rather be somewhere else. Plus, I wasn't interested in his company, even if he was, hands down, one of the most gorgeous men I'd ever seen.

"Look," I said. "I'll figure my own way around. I'm not interested in a big brother or whatever you think this is, so you can tell your dad that you did your duty."

Matthias's face closed off and his gaze split between me and the men in the bedroom. I had the niggling sense that he didn't like being overheard.

"Believe it or not," he said in a low voice, "I have better things to do than to wait on you, and I'm late meeting my friends to go surfing before the party tonight."

"You're right, I don't believe you," I said to his parting backside.

He swung around at the doorway. "That I have better things to do?"

"That you have friends."

Matthias's jaw worked before he let his shoulders relax. He'd powered through whatever he'd been about to say.

"Welcome to the Vaulteneau estate, Ciaran." His gaze flicked to the luggage and boxes. "Hope you packed formal attire for tonight," he bit out.

With that, he stalked from the room. He didn't even have the decency to close my door.

Well, that went about as well as I thought it'd go.

Matthias, though, wasn't wrong to taunt me about the formal attire thing.

Still, what a prick, but at least he left.

I checked my phone. There were several texts from my friends but nothing from Drew. I tried to not let it bother me.

I sent my friends pictures of the room and the view. Raj sent back a long string of exploding head emojis. At least I could count on my friends to make me feel better.

With a chuckle, I started unpacking my meager belongings.