Page 7 of Endgame

A new family.

Thoroughly revolted at the prospect of all three, I trailed after my mom and her new husband, with asomeone pissed in my cornflakes expressionmolded to my face. I didn’t care if Gabe held the crown jewels inside that mansion of his. I wasnotgoing to be happy about it.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned him when he held the front door open for me.

Immediately he withdrew the hand he had been about to place on my shoulder. “Right…uh, no problem, Mercedes.” Good. We weren’t there yet and, if I had my way, we never would be.

Rolling my eyes, I ignored the formal way he said my name. A name I loathed to be called. Another mark on the shit list for you, Gabo!

“This is beautiful,” Mom squealed, clapping in delight when we stepped inside the ginormous foyer. Spinning around to face me, Mom beamed. “Isn’t this place beautiful, Mercy?”

She was right.

It was beautiful.

Of course, I would rather die than compliment this man’s house.

“Peachy,” I replied in a bored drawl, flicking my glasses back down on my nose. I was a master at concealing my true thoughts and feelings. I knew I looked bored, but the truth was I was impressed with the interior of this house. Big time.

As I stood on the cool, black marble tiles and looked around, I was immediately transported to an Italian villa in Europe. That’s what this place reminded me of. The cream painted walls were in stark contrast to the enormous circular, black, cast iron staircase leading up the second level of the house. And the oversized paintings and mirrors hung cleverly to absorb light? Yeah, they screamed pretentious – and filthy rich. Hell, the ceiling was at least twenty feet above us. I was in some deep shit, that was for sure.

With my fingers still curled around the straps of my backpack, I looked at my newDaddyand asked, “Where’s my room?”

“Mercy!” Mom hissed, clearly embarrassed. “Don’t be rude.”

I opened my mouth to give my mother an explicit example on just how rude I could be when Gabe interjected.

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” Walking over to my mother, Gabe wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. “I’m sure you’re both exhausted from the drive down here.” He frowned then. “I’ve organized a family dinner in the dining room, but if you’d rather lie down first, we can postpone?”

I said “yes” at the same time my mom said “no.”

Seeing as Gabe had a higher probability of getting laid tonight if he agreed with my mother, he followed his dick and led her through the house and into the dining room.

Miserable, I followed after them.

“Mercedes, you met my son Rourke at the wedding, didn’t you?” Gabe announced when we walked into the overly jazzed up dining room.

Instinctively, my gaze honed in on Gabe’s son who was already seated at the table and my heart sank into my ass. Rourke sat at the far side of the huge oak table, glaring daggers at my face with hard, blue eyes.

The guy had some fierce eyes. The color was a deep ocean blue and they were pretty. His dark brown hair was sexily disheveled. He looked too good to be sitting across from me. Too built to be going into his senior year of high school. He looked more like a senior incollege.

“Yeah,” I ground out through clenched teeth as I took the seat opposite him. “I remember.” He didn’t offer me a hello, so I didn’t bother to offer him one either.

Steeling myself, I folded my arms across my chest, and glared back at the beautiful bastard with a look my mother had labeled my‘resting bitch face’.

Rourke was snarling at me, so I returned the gesture.

I had no intentions of entertaining his bullshit; I’d endured more than enough of it the last time we met…

This is the biggest croc of shit ever. Getting married in a church for the fifth time? Was that even allowed? Honestly, I had no idea. I wasn’t religious myself, had never chosen a particular man in the sky to pitch my flag to. I mean sure, my mom had been brought up in the Baptist faith, and I, in turn, had learned to pray to the man upstairs when shit hit the fan and I was in need of some divine intervention. However, the fact that I was standing beside my mother as she pledged herself to Gabe, made it perfectly clear the big guy wasn’t taking pagan pleas.

“If anyone objects to this marriage, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

Biting back the urge to scream I object, I decided to focus my attention on Gabe’s son who was standing slightly behind his father and directly opposite me. He looked miserable…and hot. Tall and muscular, Rourke Owens filled that suit in all the right places. Maybe this marriage crap wouldn’t be so bad; at least I got to drool over Rourke – in secrecy of course.

Rourke’s blue eyes landed on mine then, startling me, and I smiled, offering him my best ’I know how you feel, this sucks’ gesture. He didn’t return the smile. He didn’t even blink. He just stood a few feet away, staring at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle and the answer was in my eyes.

When the pastor pronounced them husband and wife, and their guests cheered and clapped, Mom and Gabe led the way out of the church, followed by his daughter and the other groomsman, and then finally me and Rourke; the reluctant best man and even more reluctant maid of honor.

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