Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas: O'Reilly Fight Club Book Four, page 1
Three Stepbrothers Save Christmas
O'Reilly Fight Club Book Four
D. E. Bartley
Copyright © 2024 D. E. Bartley
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Creative imagining LLC
Trigger warnings.
This book does contain some scenes that may trigger someone who has dealt with the same issues as the main characters. Please read the warning list first and decide if you wish to continue.
Your mental health matters
Trigger warnings
Toxic parent/relationship
self-harming
death of a parent (on and off page)
suicidal thoughts
Extreme low self-esteem
Daddy doms
dom/sub-sexual scenes
Detailed sexual scenes
restraints
anal play
choking kink
use of sex toys
cheating (not MMCs)
To everyone who has been in a toxic relationship, whether with a parent, spouse, friendship or any other, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Remember there is always someone, whether a friend or other family member who loves you more than you will ever know. Let yourself heal and accept that you are loveable, no matter what you are told.
My inbox is always open.
1
Verity
“I’m glad to hear your father is finally coming home for a bit.”
Looking up from my book, I find Danielle King taking a seat beside me.
“How do you know? I only found out this morning,” I ask, picking up my mug and sipping my latte. I love this time of year; the coffee shop on the school grounds gets gingerbread flavouring, so I can drink gingerbread lattes whenever I want.
“Dad told me last night. He said Henry called to ask if he would be around as he wants to talk business or something.”
Why did he tell someone else he was coming home before me? You would think that as his daughter, I would be the first person he told.
“I’m hoping that will mean he’s home for a while, maybe even for Christmas. Otherwise, why would he be coming back next week?” I answer, trying to keep the hurt from my voice. I can’t believe he spoke to Mr King before his own daughter. Then I remembered I texted him that I was exhausted, so he must have wanted me to rest. That makes more sense than him thinking of me last.
My father’s work forces him to live in the States for most of the year. Which means he’s away more than he’s home. I’ve suggested several times that we move over there, but he doesn’t seem to like the idea of me being out there. He’s never let me travel with him; I’ve never been to the States, and I don’t even know what he does other than make money through stocks and shares. Occasionally, he will invest the money he makes into businesses like Danielle's father’s casino and racehorses. But otherwise, he spends everything he makes, ensuring that I have everything I could need.
“Wasn’t he home last Christmas?” she asks, cutting up her baguette. I shake my head whilst picking at the fruit salad I picked up this morning. I will never understand how others can eat large meals hours before a performance. It makes me feel heavy and fat, distracting me from the dances, so I prefer something light with no carbs.
It’s the first of December, so we’re in the final month of our Christmas production. This year, we are performing “The Nutcracker”. Usually, we only perform in December, but with the rising costs of everything at the dance school I attend, we have been performing for the last two months, trying to sell as many tickets as possible to raise essential funds.
The whole company is physically and mentally exhausted and cannot wait to finish on Christmas Eve. We then have three weeks off to recover before returning in the new year to prepare for the summer production. We will also have our final exams for our degree in dance.
“Huh,” Danielle mutters, catching my attention. “I’m sure he was at my parents' Christmas Eve party,” she frowns.
“No, he was in the States as something came up at the last minute, and then he couldn’t get a flight,” I explain. She must be mistaken because he wouldn’t lie about being away, especially at Christmas.
Danni starts eating her food as I sit quietly, contemplating what it will be like to have Dad home. I can't remember the last time he was here for Christmas. Being in the States makes it difficult to travel at the best of times, but the holiday season makes it near impossible.
“What’s your plans if he doesn’t stay for Christmas?” Danni asks next to me. I shrug and look into my almost empty glass cup.
“Nothing, I guess. I’ll just be on my own.”
“You can’t spend it alone!”
I look up at my friend and see the concern on her face.
“It’s fine. It won’t be the first time,” I smile, hoping she will drop the subject because, in all honesty, it’s far from fine. But I hate the idea of her worrying about me.
It’s crazy to think that this woman was a bitch to Jasmine and me just eight months ago. I think it’s fair to say she hated us. We stayed out of her way, and she made it her mission to make our lives hell. All that changed when Jasmine was attacked seven months ago. Danielle found her and raised the alarm. Since then, they put the past behind them, and I gradually warmed to her as well.
Six months ago, she proved how good a friend she could be when my drink was spiked during a night out for Jasmine's twenty-first birthday; the night had been amazing until that point. We later discovered my drink had been spiked to ensure Jasmine's bodyguards were preoccupied with me so she could be kidnapped. The whole experience has brought the three of us closer than ever.
The drugs they gave me were strong, and it took me three days to recover. Danielle didn’t leave my side for the first night until the eldest of my stepbrothers, Travis, turned up and took over my care. Even then, she called numerous times a day and kept me posted with all the updates whilst people searched for Jasmine until she was rescued a few days later.
Danielle and I spent some time with Jasmine afterwards, helping her to heal and come to terms with a few things she learnt during her time with the kidnappers. Since then, we have been inseparable. We do everything together, and it’s hard to believe we were anything other than best friends.
“Has Jasmine been picked up?”
Danielle nods whilst finishing her baguette.
“Yeah, Maximus picked her up twenty minutes ago. He is taking her to her therapy session and then bringing her back to get ready for the show.”
Poor Jasmine has been having therapy every week for the last five months. The O’Reilly’s, her four fiancés, insisted on it after she was taken, not only for the fact she was kidnapped but for the truths she discovered during that time as well. There is nothing those four guys wouldn’t do for her, and they have done all they could to give her the safe environment she deserves while she heals.
Jasmine is so lucky to have not one but four men willing to give her everything she needs. There is nothing they wouldn’t do for her, and I have to admit I’m jealous of her for that.
I look down at my phone as it vibrates on the table with a text from my boyfriend.
Marshall: I’m on break. Call me if you are free. Xxx
“I’m going to make a call before we get into costume. I’ll see you in a bit,” I say quickly, grabbing my bag. Danielle l looks up and smiles at me.
“Okay, save me a mirror if you get there first.”
Promising I will, I pick up my phone and head towards the courtyard, hoping for some privacy.
As soon as I’m out in the cold winter air, I pull my jacket tighter around me whilst looking for a vacant bench. Sitting down, I pull up my boyfriend's number and look at it momentarily. I promised to call him, and I want to speak to him. But something is holding me back, and I have no idea what it is.
Marshall is a lovely guy; he’s sweet and says he cares for me and all the romantic things a boyfriend should say, but I can't help wondering if he means it. It probably doesn’t help that he can be incredibly immature and likes to tell his friends he is with a tall, blonde, skinny ballerina. Sometimes, I feel he is with me for how I look on his arm rather than who I am. Not that I think I’m anything special because I know I’m not. Especially compared to the likes of Jasmine and Danielle. But I have the typical innocent girl look, which men seem to find attractive. Marshall loves to tell me how jealous his friends are that he is with someone like me. Yet, he never comes to any of my performances to support me or even seem remotely interested in my dancing. Maybe I’m looking too deep into this.
There again, my own father hasn’t seen me dance in years, but he will boast to all his friends that I will be the “next big thing”, and I know he loves the recordings I send him of the productions. I wish it were easier for him to come and watch them in person. Maybe with him coming back next week, he’ll be able to watch one of the shows? Then he could finally watch me like I always wish he would.
My mum was the one who got me into dancing. It was always something we shared. I used to love watching her dance, and I hope I look as graceful as she did. Dad always said she looked like a goddess when she danced, and he was right. We used to watch her together in the makeshift studio she created. She loved it when I watched her practice on my Dad’s lap. I loved those times, too. I think that’s why my father doesn’t watch me dance anymore, as it reminds him too much of my mum.
Miriam Stevenson was a loving and caring woman; everyone who met her instantly liked and loved having her around. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for anyone, especially me. In every memory of her, she is smiling, laughing, dancing, or combining all three. My mum became ill and died quickly when I was seven years old. She had a brain tumour, and there was nothing the doctors could do to help her. There were only a few months between her getting diagnosed and dying. I know now that it was a blessing, as she could have suffered for years. But I still miss her daily, and I know my dad does, too.
Around that time, my father started working away more, and I saw less and less of him. It’s not like he neglects me. He ensures I have the best of everything; I want for nothing, and I get to live in a big house without paying any bills. I attend the best dance school in the UK and have wonderful friends who I would do anything for. But even though I have so much, I miss my parents. When Mum died, a part of Dad died with her, and I don’t think he will ever get that part back. He was left heartbroken by her death, and I thought he would never recover. Then, five years ago, he announced he was getting married to a woman he met through work.
Linda Donavon is a widow whose husband was killed in a car accident, leaving her with their three sons: Travis, Ryan and Ethan. They are all quite a bit older than me. Travis is ten years older at thirty-one. Ryan is seven years older, and Ethan is five. I only met them once before the wedding.
I get along with my stepmother; she seems like she loves my father, but they aren’t home enough for me to build an actual relationship with her. I am probably closer to her sons than I will ever be with her. I don’t hear from them all the time, and I can go weeks before Ryan or Ethan message. Travis has been checking up on me more since my drink was spiked, but I’m sure he only does that because my father would have asked him to keep an eye on me. The Donavon brothers spend the odd weekend here and there at my house, but even then, they seem to go about doing their own thing. I wish sometimes we were closer, and then maybe they would visit a bit more often. I like it when they are around. They are fun, and we always have a laugh. It’s nice not being the only person in that big house. I never admit it out loud, but it can sometimes get lonely.
I take a deep breath and look at my phone again. I have ten minutes before I have to start getting ready for the show, so I might as well do something during that time. I tap on the screen and hold the phone to my ear. Hoping to still catch Marshall on his break.
2
Verity
Exhausted and aching, I drive home, looking forward to having some company tonight, as Marshall messaged to say he is on his way around.
The performance went well, as it always does. No one would dare to mess up; otherwise, Mrs Florence would have us all back at the studio at the crack of dawn for extra rehearsals. No one wants that this late in the year; we are all exhausted as it is.
As I pull up in front of the house, I notice a car in the driveway and lights on inside the house. My body comes alive with excitement as I park next to the strange car and grab my keys before jumping out. Rushing to the front door, I unlock it with shaking hands, hopping from one foot to the other, desperate to get inside as quickly as possible. There’s only one person it could be, and I can’t believe he tricked me by saying he would be home next week.
“Dad!” I slam the door shut behind me. I listen out for any noise and hear something from the kitchen. Rushing forward, almost tripping over my own feet, I race to where I know he must be.
“Dad, you’re home!” I call excitedly, only to come to a screeching stop.
“Well, I can be your daddy if you want me to be, Baby Girl.” Ethan, the younger of my stepbrothers, grins at me as he stands at the counter, making himself a sandwich. I drop my bag on the floor as my heart breaks a little.
“I thought you were someone else,” I murmur, trying to hide my disappointment but failing miserably as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge behind him.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” he replies, looking over his shoulder as I turn to face him. “Am I not even going to get a hello?” he asks with one arched brow. I smile slightly as I step beside him to kiss his cheek.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“That’s more like it,” he winks before returning to his sandwich. “I filled the fridge for you, by the way. There was nothing in there.” I can hear the accusation in his tone.
“Thanks, I’ve been eating out most of the time cause of the shows. I was going to go shopping tomorrow,” I lie, trying to ignore how he’s watching me. I wait for him to call me out but relax when he hums deep in his throat.
“How come you’re here? Have I missed something?” I ask, walking around the other side of the counter he’s standing over to build his chicken salad sandwich.
“Mum called last night saying they would be home next week and wanted to see us all. I have some potential clients in this area, so I thought I’d come early and kill two birds with one stone.”
It’s not the first time one of them has come to stay for business reasons. Ethan and Ryan are personal trainers with a high price tag, meaning all their clients are super rich. They do online sessions as well as one-to-one. They are amazing at the job, and both helped me recover from a dancing injury a couple of years ago. They are both fully trained PTs and physios, specialising in sports injuries.
“So, the others aren’t with you?” I ask, reaching over and grabbing a slice of the tomato he’s cutting. He slaps my hand away and sighs before passing me the other slice as I smile sweetly at him. Ethan always gives me what I want, not that I ask for much. But if I ever do, he gives in quicker than I can blink.
“They’ll be here in a couple of days; they are taking care of a few things first.” He cuts into his sandwich while grinning at me. “So, you’re stuck with just me for the time being, sorry.”
I pick up my bag and sigh dramatically.
“Well, don’t bug me, and I won't bug you,” I say, walking out of the kitchen smiling.
“But, what if I want to bug you?”
“Tough!” I laugh. “I have someone coming over, don’t tell anyone, especially our parents!” I call out nervously, rushing up the stairs to my room. I hear Ethan asking who’s coming over, but don’t bother answering. He will know soon enough as he should be here any minute.
I don’t think any of the guys have met a boyfriend before, and now that I know Ethan is here, I’m not sure how I feel about him coming over. My love life is something I keep very quiet and even the girls haven’t met him. It’s not that I’m ashamed of him or that he isn’t attractive because he is. But my father has always told me to stay away from guys, and I find it easier to hide it from him if no one else knows either. I might be twenty-one, but I still want to ensure I don’t upset my dad. He does so much for me; the least I can do is do as he asks, most of the time.
Dropping my bag at the bottom of my bed I shrug off my jacket to place it on the chair. I’d been so excited when I thought Dad was home. As happy as I am to see Ethan, it’s not the same. I miss my dad and having him around. When he’s home, everything seems a little better with the world. Even if he is only back for a few days, those days mean the world to me.
I rush into my bathroom to brush my teeth and check my make-up. It’s been a long day, and the performance tonight felt like it was dragging. I think we are all in desperate need of a break. Thankfully, I have tomorrow night off before the last three weeks of performances start. Marshall is staying tonight and tomorrow after we go out for a meal at his favourite restaurant. I know I should probably use the night off to rest, but it’s Christmas, and it's not like I have anything else to do with my time.
