Free Stepbrother: No Boundaries by Amber Branley Page B

bet. I forget about my belongings at Scott and then I remember that I’m spending his money at that very moment.
     
    He could freeze my card and I wouldn’t have anything to do. I would be done. And I’d also probably deserve it , I tell myself.
     
    But Scott wouldn’t do that, I know he wouldn’t. He’s a dick, but he’s not a dick in that way. And four hundred thousand dollars isn’t much to him at all – he’d probably let me keep it, but I won’t. I’ll use it to get on my feet, but that’ll only take a few thousand. I’ll find any job I can, and get back onto my own feet. I’ll have to be alone again, alone and struggling in a big city.
     
    I did it once, I can do it again. Right, right?

 
    Chapter 16
    Scott
    Where the fuck is she?
     
    I’ve been driving myself for the first time in a while in New York. I pulled my old Lamborghini out of the garage because I didn’t want my driver to have to scurry back and forth the city and all its side streets when I could do it myself, and do it better. It’d be too much of a headache directing him in and out of traffic and telling him to take every random turn that came to my mind at the last minute.
     
    I’ll find her, I have to. She’s out in the cold and she’s scared and alone.
     
    I went home promptly after her outburst after covering the entire bill. They weren’t that upset – just shocked, really. And so was I. The cunt model of a fiancé that Walter has got a good stare down from me and I know she’ll never cross my path again. I felt like giving her a piece of my mind but I didn’t. I was too worried about Miranda after she ran out of the restaurant. I tried to follow her but by the time I’d gotten out of the front doors she had disappeared into the busy crowd.
     
    How the fucking hell am I supposed to find her?
     
    I try calling her cell phone six times and she doesn’t pick up. Goddamnit, Miranda . Pick up the fucking phone, I’m trying to help. I’m not mad, I promise. I’m just worried . She won’t pick up and I know it’s going to be like this all night. At least until she gets too cold or afraid. She’s got nowhere to go but home, and home is my penthouse on the Upper West Side.
     
    Maybe I should try going back there but it’s the first place I went and she wasn’t there. But maybe she’s there now. It’s been two hours and she’s been out in the cold as far as I know and surely she’s gone back.
     
    I’m down around Canal Street and I twist the car around and head back uptown. I fucking hate the traffic and the noisy car horns and the people screaming loudly on the sidewalk when they catch sight of my car. Chinatown stinks like fish and sewage along with the trash bags thrown out on the sidewalks. It’s repulsive and I feel like gagging, but I don’t. I just try to get home and focus on Miranda.
     
    If she’s not there then where the fuck would she have gone to? I don’t even know any of her friends and now I regret that. I never tried to get into her personal life because I just didn’t care. But now I do. Now I wish I’d been everything she wanted. Now I don’t even care about my damn hard ass ego and I wish I’d softened for her the way she wanted me to.
    No I don’t. I’m not going to change  for her. I can’t bring myself to. But I am going to find her, and I’m going to find her tonight .
     
     
    Finally I pull up to my building and swerve down into the garage. My heart is beating faster than it has in years and I hurry towards my parking spot and then jump out and sprint towards the elevator. It seems to be just my luck that we stop on the first floor – at this hour everyone’s typically home already.
     
    Residents take their time stepping in and I’m tapping the heel of my foot against the ground and biting my lip. I just need to get to the top floor as fast as fucking possible, is that too much to ask?
     
    The doors finally open and we’re heading up. One slow stop on the third