Page 51 of The Stepbrother 2: Noah

Noah shoved Maine away and rushed me out of the courthouse like I was some crime lord and he was my bodyguard.

"Why did you do that?" Noah asked when we were inside our SUV; the driver took off. Noah's face was red, and I knew he was doing everything in his power not to yell at me.

I pulled my cellphone from my pocket and hit play. Tiffany agreeing to drop the charges played back. "There was a method to my madness. The guy from TLX who was sitting behind us probably got part of the conversation too."

"What if she would have actually hit you?"

I frowned. "I knew you wouldn’t let her."

Noah shook his head. "I told you to behave. We can’t be causing problems everywhere we go."

"Since when? That’s all our family does."

Noah turned and looked out the window. "We’ll discuss this later," he replied firmly. I texted Tempest, then my daddy. I couldn’t do anything about Noah being mad.

When we pulled up to his house where we were staying, there was a couple standing outside. Older, white, dressed too warm for Florida winter, in trench coat-style jackets. They looked as if they’d just knocked and were waiting.

Our driver pulled to a stop, and Noah opened the door but didn’t step out. "May I help you all?" he asked just as they turned around. The woman and I gasped at the same time. Me, because the man was an older exact replica of Noah. I knew who they were then.

Wolfgang Engel was Noah's father; he had committed suicide before Noah was even born. Rumor was he was another one ofTiffany's victims. But he'd already been depressed. These people had to be his parents. I had never thought to Google them because they had never been a part of Noah's life. It was suspect that they showed up now. And now I would have to tell Noah about their offer to me.

I sighed. As soon as news of Noah and I getting married became public, his family's business manager contacted me and said they wanted to combine "empires." I told them no, outright. I had an empire. They had a small record label that produced music the exact opposite of what I put out, and they were only surviving because they kept publishing their son's music. It would not have been a symbiotic relationship. It would have been them eating off my godfather's hard work. And besides, Compton Ave was one of the few Black-owned and controlled record labels in the world, and it would remain that way.

I didn’t hear how they responded to Noah's question, but whatever they said put him on alert. "Stay here," he said before getting out. I rolled my eyes but didn’t object. I watched as he got out of the car, and the woman, his grandmother, pulled him into a hug.

Without even knowing why they were here, I knew that whatever was about to happen was just going to add to the messiness of our lives. I took a pic and sent it to Tempest. Then I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat. Might as well enjoy the quiet for a while.

Creed-

Everybody but Noah was gathered in the dining room at my—well, our—house in Atlanta for breakfast. We had brought his grandparents back with us. We didn’t need both families in the same city acting a fool. Noah decided to sleep in while I dealt with his grandparents, which I was grinning and bearing through only because he was angry at me for not telling him about his family being in contact with me. He didn’t believe I wasn’t being deceptive or trying to hide anything from him. I tried to explain to him that since they had called me about business and not about him, I didn’t make it personal. In hindsight, I see why I probably should have told him.

Maybe he would have worked something out with them before they came looking for him, because they were testing my patience more than my family ever did, and they had only been around for three days.

I placed a plate of sausage, toast, scrambled eggs, and a bowl of grits on the place setting in front of Noah’s grandmother and forced a smile before doing the same for her husband. Mr. Neil wasn’t anywhere close to as bad as his wife, but he had his moments.

“I like my eggs poached,” Mrs. Greta volunteered.

“And you’re welcome to go in the kitchen and poach as many as you like,” I replied, trying to keep my tone even. “It’s not my forte,” I added, to smooth over the harsh edges of my reply. This woman complained about something at every meal, but she always ate everything I cooked.

"Why don’t you get a maid? Surely, you don't expect to attend to us all by yourself while we visit for the next few months."

I damn near choked on the fresh-squeezed orange juice I was drinking. “What?” I sputtered.

The grandmother nodded, and I could swear I heard her sprayed-stiff hair move with her head. “Noah said he was going to talk to you about it this morning at breakfast. We want to get to know our only grandson.”

I wanted to ask them why they hadn’t wanted to get to know him nearly thirty years ago, but I kept that to myself.

I forced a smile. “I guess I’ll have a talk with Noah about that when he gets up.” I shoved my mouth full of eggs to keep from letting anything else slip.

The next few minutes were filled with the sound of forks hitting plates. My thoughts were filled with excuses I could use to get these people out of my house. Hell, I’d rent them their own apartment if I needed to.

Just as I was about to excuse myself from the table, Noah’s grandfather spoke. “So, Creed. What makes you qualified to run a record label?” he asked out of the blue, his tone and expression filled with condescension.

But I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, so I asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’re young, female, and Black. It’s not the type of business you all usually succeed in. You should let Noah take control of the company.”

I mentally took back what I said about him not being as bad as his wife.

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