Bethany showered quickly before blow drying her long chestnut hair, the straightener a godsend in the Texas summer heat. She finished getting her hair to behave and put on a little makeup before walking into her adjoining room and getting dressed. A light blue suit with cream-colored lapels and lining made her look like a fashion icon from the fifties. It was elegant and yet demanded attention. She put on her favorite earrings and slipped on her cream-colored heels, the height of them accentuating her leg muscles. She loved feeling pretty and yet couldn't seem to find a reason to dress up most days of the week.

Her internship was going to spoil her.

Bethany walked to the kitchen, Martha handing her a plate with two breakfast tacos and salsa on it. She moved the plate to her face and breathed in deeply, the smell divine. Her stomach protested loudly, and she sat down at the bar for a quick breakfast. She didn't notice Martha watching her as she ate quickly, her concern not getting anything on her outfit.

"You haven't had the easiest of lives, have you, Miss?"

Bethany looked up, slowing her rapid chewing a little and reaching for the silky white napkin sitting beside her. She wiped her lips and reached to pick up her orange juice. She took a quick sip and sighed with relief, her gaze moving to the older Hispanic woman as she smiled.

"My father was a drug dealer and took everything from us when I was twelve. My mom's worked very hard to try and put food on the table, but most days it was just one meal. I'm not sure I want to get used to eating again, though."

"Why is that?"

"It hurts too much when it's gone again." Bethany rubbed at her chest, just above her heart. She had dealt with poverty so long that surely it was just around the corner in this new fairy tale and would jump out and cause everything to crash down around them.

"You don't have to worry about that, child. Mr. Bryant loves your mom."

"My dad said he did too. Who knows, right? Better to prepare for the worst and find yourself pleasantly surprised than hope for something that never comes."

"Well, I think that's pretty negative, but I'll keep my opinion to myself. You want another taco, sweetie?"

"No. I won't fit in my suit if you keep feeding me, Martha."

"Then we'll buy you another one."

The chef laughed and moved to busy herself with something on the stove as Bethany finished her breakfast, enjoying it to the last bit that she licked from her fingers. It was weird to be in the midst of wealth after such a long life of wanting for everything.

One thing was for sure—Bethany would never end up with someone who was rich. They wouldn't have anything in common. While a wealthy guy might be great for entertainment and sex, chances of him understanding her were slim. She couldn't shake the image of Damon from her thoughts, angst pressing against her at the idea that her new stepbrother was becoming her go-to fantasy.

"I need meds. I'll call Matthew." She smiled and slipped out of the house into the muggy mid-August morning.

The morning was less than eventful, Bethany feeling the pressure of anxiety over her lunch with Damon coming up so quickly. She was supposed to meet him at his office at a quarter till eleven, and it was just a few minutes after ten. She checked her watch for the tenth time before getting up and walking toward the women's restroom. She would get a few assignments from Damon during lunch, and then she was slated to work with Ben a little that afternoon on a new service they were thinking about offering in the near future.

She reached out and pushed the women's restroom door, a loud protest on the other side as she scraped the door across some poor girl's foot.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

Bethany moved into the bathroom and saw that the girl was bent over and rubbing her foot as she cursed.

A dark-haired Hispanic girl stood behind the injured girl with a scowl on her face. "You should watch where you're going. Jeez."

Bethany started to apologize again as the injured girl stood up and glared at her. It was the girl from the elevator, whose foot Bethany had stepped on the day before.

"I'm so sorry. I just didn't see you there." Bethany reached toward the girl to touch her shoulder, but the shapely girl jerked away from her.

"Well, maybe you should pay more attention, you big oaf." She sneered and looked back at her friend. "I hope I can still dance tomorrow. This clumsy chick has stepped on my foot and now trampled it with the door. Ridiculous."

"Totally. You must be the new intern."

"Yeah." Bethany moved around them, not trusting herself to take too much more abuse from either of them before retaliating. Both occurrences were accidents, and their nastiness was about to bring the bitch out in her. The last thing she wanted to do was explain to Kent or Damon why she'd punched the pretty redhead in the mouth.

"Just so you know, behemoth, your lunch with Damon doesn't mean shit. He takes each of us to lunch. You're nothing special, and he's not interested in you." She shrugged as her friend echoed her thoughts with a sound of agreement, her hands on her hips as she glared at Bethany.

Bethany stared at them over her shoulder. "You mean he doesn't like me, like me?"

"Um no. He likes me, if anybody. Don't even try it. You aren't even his type." The redhead sneered again.

"Far too large and clumsy." The Hispanic girl smiled menacingly and moved toward the door, holding it open. "Come on, Sadie, let's go find a Band-Aid for your foot."

"Shame," Bethany whispered as if she cared and slipped into a stall. She'd get the girl when the time was right, but for now, planting seeds was plenty fun enough.

"Dumbass," Bethany whispered, tugging at the suit and letting her thoughts take her to the center of a ring as Sadie got her ass handed to her. It would be too easy, but oh, so much fun.

"Good Morning, Bethany. Damon will be with you shortly; just take a seat over there." Linda, Damon's secretary, looked over the top of her desk and smiled with what could have been kindness. She was too sensual, and it left Bethany wondering about Kent's thoughts when hiring the woman. Maybe she was just that way around other women? Surely not.

Damon's door opened, and a short blonde with a pixie haircut and red lipstick walked out, a dizzy look to her as she turned and waved, as if in love. Damon moved out beside her, his hand on the small of her back as he looked over at Bethany. His finger brushed by his lips at the crimson lipstick that was smeared on the side of his mouth. Linda got up and walked to him, leaning over to wipe it for him as the woman walked away.

"Why does Miss Carrington insist on kissing you like an old-fashioned church woman? She's in her thirties. I think she does it simply to kiss on you." Linda moved back and shook her head as Damon smirked, the man never seeming to smile. "Better. Your reservation at Cruz is for eleven fifteen. You want me to call them to bring your car around?"

"Yes, the Mercedes." He looked over toward Bethany. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." She smiled and stood, walking toward him. She half wished he would offer his bent arm like his brother, Matthew, had done the night before. The difference between the two men almost left her with more questions than comfort.

Damon walked beside her, everyone they passed stopping to greet him and giving her the once-over. A conversation needed to start between them to deflate the awkwardness, but perhaps it only existed in her mind. Or maybe he enjoyed the feeling that someone was squirming because of him. Asshole.

He opened the door to the lobby and waited until she'd moved through to step up beside her. The elevator opened, and they squeezed in, him moving in behind her. He kept the space between them appropriate, but simply knowing that it was him that hovered over the back of her caused her skin to tingle, her body reacting without consent.

She needed to talk with Krista, tell her that her new stepbrother was everything she sexually wanted in a man. Then let the girl call her a prude.

She smiled as the door opened and then moved out, waiting for Damon to move up beside her.

"I heard you got to meet Matthew last night?"

"I did. I liked him a lot. He's very down to earth."

A smile touched the side of Damon's mouth, the look softening his features. She had to wonder if there wasn't more to him. Between Matt's joking about him and Ben's support of him, surely he wasn't the monster he appeared to be. He opened the door again for her, and they walked out of the front of the building, the Mercedes waiting for them.

The bellhop held her door open, and Damon stood beside him; his father had obviously taught him the way of Southern manners. She slipped into the car and watched him carefully as he moved around the front of the car to get in. Breathing in deeply, she enjoyed the smell of him. Woodsy and masculine, strong and sensual. His black pants hugged his legs and waist, the faded pink button-down shirt bringing out the darkness of his features. He got in and looked over at her.

"Steakhouse for lunch. Hope you're hungry."

"I'm always hungry."

"My type of girl." He looked over his shoulder, the long tanned slope of his neck far beyond kissable. She chided herself, hoping that she'd be able to keep it together for lunch. The excitement at finally feeling a deep sense of lust washed over her but was shortly followed by the stark reality that nothing would come of it. What would they have, a double wedding? Her mom and his dad with the two of them beside them?

Ridiculous.

Was she his type of girl? From what Matthew had confirmed the night before, her looks were right in the middle of the ballpark, and yet he seemed to focus on blondes.

"Let's utilize every ounce of time we have together today." He turned back in his seat and reached for a pair of dark sunglasses, looking even more sinful than he had a moment before.

"Sounds good to me. What is my first assignment?"

"First, my rules. I run the company, and my father has graciously trusted me to do things my way. I have several rules that everyone is aware of, and you'll do well to remember them."

Heat flushed her chest and raced up her neck at the condescension in his tone. She would have to suffer through lunch if he was going to put on his asshole cloak and be the man she expected he was.

"Okay. Tell me the rules. I'm happy to be compliant if they don't impede on my morals." She gave him a sideways glance, hoping to convey that the 'no panty' rule didn't apply to her. He looked over at her as a lovely smile lifted his mouth again.

"I almost pegged you for someone who didn't follow the rules. Your demeanor is on the edge. You look the part and are most certainly intelligent enough to play it, but something tells me there's more to you than you let on. Rule follower isn't something I would label you as."

She laughed, her nervousness at the tone of his voice causing the air to thicken. It was hard to breathe, and something told her that it wasn't going to get any easier each and every time the delicious man beside her made an appearance.