Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa

One

Nyx

All my adult life I’ve been fighting to be somewhat normal. To be the most conventional one in the family—or the only one for that matter.

My parents are…different. My three siblings… Well, they aren’t like our parents, but they stand out easily in any crowd. Not me. Or at least I try to stay away from people’s radars, unlike them.

While we were growing up, my parents believed we could learn more from the world than in a classroom. Were they right?

The jury is still out deliberating.

One thing I can say is that my dad is one of the wisest, most clueless men in the world. I understand how ambiguous that sounds, but my father isn’t like any conventional sixty-three-year-old guy. Octavio Brassard is unique among any men. He lives by his own rules and has a license to teach young adults about ancient civilizations.

According to Dad, we’re here to learn how to love, how to live, and how to preserve this world. Not that we, the human race, are doing a great job at any of those things. He insists that the most important moments in our life happen unexpectedly. That’s why we have to stop and smell the roses. Maybe one of those special moments is the one that transforms our lives.

In that split second, we could find our destiny.

He’s a philosopher, a poet, and one of the most loving people I know. He pushes us, his children and students, to believe in ourselves and always pursue our dreams. Take life by the balls. And no, my father doesn’t believe in censoring our language.

Something else I learned from my parents is that family comes before anything and everyone.

This is why I’m spending my weekend working with my oldest brother, Eros, who like my father, is a dreamer. He doesn’t like to think much about the bottom line, rather what he can do to change the world.

“I could be with Persy drinking margaritas,” I protest, as I go through the partnership proposal he received from LNC Investments.

I could spend my time with my sister, who I haven’t seen that much during the past couple of months.

“Persy is actually drinking some strawberry lager Dad made,” he corrects me. “It tastes like fruity shit.”

I glare at him. “I like fruity shit.”

“Fruity doesn’t mean refined,” he informs me. “You two need to learn to drink better brands and less sugar.”

Sighing, I finish reading the contract. We’re never going to agree on the subject. He thinks spending a thousand dollars on a bottle of single malt is better than drinking margaritas. We’ll have to agree to disagree.

“Listen, you shouldn’t be signing this,” I suggest. “Persy and I will amend her book deal and—”

“It’s going to take me years to recover her investment,” he interrupts me. “These guys don’t need the money right away. She does.”

He is right. Our sister lent him her savings. The amount included the advance she received from Blackstone and Morgan Press, the publishing company that bought the rights to her next book. A book she doesn’t want to write because it’s off-brand and forcing her to divulge more about her life on social media than she usually does. I’m trying to fix her current contract so she can change the title and the subject. But if we can’t come to an agreement, she’ll have to give the money back so I can terminate the contract.

I sigh.

“Thirty-five percent is a lot,” I say, changing the argument as I continue reading through the partnership proposal. “We need to negotiate the terms before you sign anything. I understand that they are practically financing the entire operation, but…”

I pull out a calculator and run some numbers. “You’re not earning any money for at least five years. Where are you supposed to live and what are you going to eat?”

“Funny that you mention this,” he says, giving me his boyish grin. “You have an extra room in your house.”

“No!” I answer with determination.

I have two guest rooms. I love my siblings, but I can only stand living with them for so long. Just earlier this year, Persy stayed with me for almost six months and even when we had fun, we both concur that we needed our own place. We’re too old to have roommates. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to live with Eros for five years—or until he gets his shit together. I’m going to become his maid, parent, and… No, thank you.

“Nyx, at least let me explain my plan to you.” His