HIM—A Stepbrother Romance: With BONUS NOVELLA: PERSONAL (2 page)

Chapter Two

Bradley

The hot bulb flashes were in overdrive, clicking away like a hungry monster with a ferocity greater than any capacity I had ever seen before.

“Why the fuck can you just not leave me alone, assholes,” I called out at the paparazzi, not giving a fuck who quoted me.

I wobbled my way out of the club and shoved my sunglasses on. Nobody would see my hazy eyes, the eyes that stung from tears that wanted to fall at any given moment. Yet I was raised to be strong, that’s what Rainshaws are and that’s what they do. But this. This unexpected sudden loss, well I couldn’t guarantee that poker face for our brand and company. I couldn’t risk looking weak to our investors. And I hated looking too cool for school during the day and in the dark lights of clubs and bars sporting shades, but it is what it is. I slid the shades on to conceal my feelings, my truth, and held my breath to make it through the sea of great white hungry media sharks.

My bodyguard securely guided me past the frenzy with his arm on my back and his other free hand fielding recording devices. “There will be no questioning Mr. Bradley. No pictures. Come on guys. Please respect his loss.”

It would just be three more seconds of chaos before the limo would disappear with me in tow into the maze of cars that famously dressed the hustling and bustling streets of New York City. It would be straight to the airport where I would board our copter back to our estate in the Hamptons.

“Bradley, are you aware of the deal your father was making, or set to make today? And the environmental factors this has?”

“Are you aware of his black ops projects?” another reporter shouted.

“Mr. Rainshaw was having an affair with a Puerto Rican woman and has three children. Are you going to cover his child support now?”

These fucking rants were stupid, unwarranted, and unbelievable. At least, the last one was. I sighed and gritted my teeth, wanting to take my anger out and let one have it. The old me would have. But the old me saw a lot of prison cells and community service hours from my displaced anger and impulsivity, so I’d have to suck it up for just one more minute. Once inside the limo, I’d pour myself another double to numb the pain and recalculate the company’s plan. As if the death of my only remaining parent wasn’t enough to handle on my plate in one day.

I slid across the leather. My cell phone was lighting up like a casino strip in Vegas on New Year’s Eve from texts and e-mail alerts of the suits demanding my signature on the deal.

Where are you? We need you to sign the deal or it goes bust and the Chengs fly out in two hours.

Where are you?

Is it a yes?

Are we merging?

Do you know how much money is at stake here? Billions!

The company’s future is in your hands.

Don’t fuck things up, Bradley! Be a man. Not a boy this time.

“Fucking unbelievable. They want me to make decisions in this state. Don’t they just know my father just breathed his last breath? They were in the same room and saw the same damn scene,” I mumbled to myself.

I wanted this to all go away. I wanted to throw my phone out the window and never look at it again. I reached for the amber liquid and poured the double to tango with my already slightly drunken state. The warmth filled my chest with energy, the numbness allowed me to relax for another quiet minute, even if it was induced.

“Liquid courage, give me the strength to roll down the window and toss this damn phone out.”

And just like that it buzzed again in my hand. I held it up high, inspecting the device that was as annoying and stinging as a beehive. I pushed the window button allowing the window to drop just a few inches when I stopped. The cold air refreshed my senses and the name flashing across the screen sobered me up quickly.

Madie.

My stepmother.

I'm on my way home from the islands. I just received word. If only I had known sooner, or at least known he was going to be taken away. Just like that. My heart is broken. Truly broken. But I’m greatly saddened for you, my dear. I wish I could be there right now to comfort you. I’ll be there asap. Try and get some rest if you can. And regardless of the press hound, I want you to know, your father loved you dearly and he was proud of you. Kate is in route as well. Just thought you should know. Kisses, my love.

If ever there was reason for another drink it was that final text. Kate.

The young, voluptuous Marilyn Monroe look-alike who waltzed into my life and made me feel things no soon-to-be stepsister should ever make her stepbrother feel.

I've never seen a body like that before. Usually a girl has tits and no ass, or ass and no tits; she had the whole banging package topped off with the face of angel, with hazel eyes shining bright from a big genuine heart. I’ve never seen a girl’s inner light like that before, a stark contrast from the women that came into my life spinning like a revolving door at Barney’s.

A pile of bricks dropped down to the pit of my stomach. I hated recalling the horrible ordeal. It wasn't even my fault, really. I just had sucky friends and made shitty decisions back then. I tried to apologize to make amends but father wouldn't allow any sort of paper trail since he cleaned everything up. And since she made it known she never wanted to see my face again, or speak to me, paper and electronic means were the only plausible way of communication. I did leave her a letter. I never knew if she received it, though. It was just like that, a blink of the eye and she was off across the pond to an all-girls boarding school in France. I’m convinced she chose the school in a country with a language she didn’t speak just so she could be that much further from facing reality and the hurt I caused.

It always amazed me how someone could be so much a part of your life and then be gone and there was nothing you could do about it. It was my greatest regret and I hadn't seen her in eight years. Sometimes I like to think I did her a favor, but I would never tell her that. The world she was married into-- she never wanted a part of it at all. She wanted a quiet life in the country just like where she was from. She would've never had such a thing had she continued school with us. She sure did ruffle feathers the first few weeks at her new school. She instantly became the hottest girl, making instant allies and enemies. among the feline species.

My friends were so obsessed with her. They literally came to my house just so they could see her and stare at her boobs and ass. And they made their opinion of her known very often. I didn't need those thoughts in my head, especially since she slept down the hall from me. I couldn't hide the raging hard-on she would always give me just by walking down the hall in her ultra-short floral pajama shorts and tight white cotton tank tops. And sometimes she forgot to put her bra on, which was absolute hellish torture. That gave me an instant stiffy and I’d skip breakfast and have to hit the shower, all the while reminding myself that she wasn’t a blood relative.

Her mom quickly reprimanded her, reminding her that a gentleman also shared the home with her and she needed to dress more appropriately. As much as I hated it, the robes sure did help my focus and I actually thought we'd get along quite well once the whole buffer cleared my focus.

She made life exciting with her innocence and her unbiased view of the world. I love hearing her thoughts whenever our family engaged in family discussions around the dinner table. The south seemed to have soft edges, a way of life I’d never know personally. I found her aura fascinating, yet I hid behind my blank stares, but they were definitely feelings of curiosity and growing awe. I simply wanted to see what she had to say about the world. So many other girls were so shallow and had the depth the amount of the quarter. And I found it interesting that even in the hustle and bustle of the city, she maintained a wonder for life like an energetic kitten. She gave money to the homeless whenever she had cash and acted almost embarrassed by my family's wealth.

A secret that we were beginning to share before the incident was the appreciation of the literary and artistic world, a surprising fact none of my buddies knew I held. I invited her to accompany me to the opening of
Horseshoe
, a highly acclaimed new play that was the talk of the town. With my family’s name and money, we not only had the best seats in the house, but I arranged for her to meet the cast, as well as the director and writer. She took my breath away in her gold satin dress that made headlines the next day in the society pages. Her first official appearance gracing the first page. Her mother was thrilled, and Kate turned as green as pea soup.

It was a night of ease for most of the time and it made our parents happy as kids on Christmas. But I felt something more stirring inside and I swore she felt it, too. I was treading on dangerous waters, but leave it to my asshole friends two weeks later to fuck it all up anyway.

My stupid friends were high and drunk and did the most fucked up thing, and I took the blame. They pulled an Erin Andrews admirer and filmed her naked in her private time in her bathroom. They uploaded the video online to some porn hub just for laughs. They also made copies for other personal reasons. I was passed out drunk at the time and woke up to a very rude, sober awakening. A moment of regret I’d never forget.

I couldn't shake the hysterical cries I heard coming down the hallway and that was the very last thing I saw of her and then she was gone.

She made sure to visit her mother, but only when I was away. Many of her holidays she spent it with her father’s side, just to avoid me.

And that is how, a stepbrother and stepsister of nearly eight years go without seeing each other. But I still couldn't shake the feeling I first felt about her. Attraction, desire, lust. Remorse or no remorse, I was seriously fucked; in just a day I’d face the girl who’d haunted my dreams for almost a decade.

Chapter Three

Kate

The manor was eerily quiet with the flickering lights and heater that flirted with going on vacation, a winter break from the storm. The grand mansion felt like an icy museum. Heck, it was a museum. It held remnants of a past. Especially the long wall of fame that led to my childhood  sleeping quarters.

Dozens of magazine articles dressed the walls from many of Phillip Rainshaw’s accomplishments, as well as Bradley, his sister Claire, and of my mother who now had her own wall from her successes due to her stardom in the “Housewives” franchise. A real housewife of the Hamptons. She loved being on the show and lived for it. Another reason why living across oceans and seas suited me just fine. I didn’t want anything to do with the show. They called her jokingly the gold digger from Texas. After all, she was.

A house with many rooms, many adventures, and now it belonged to my mother. Just like that, in a day. Oh, how a day changes everything. Speaking of
a day
, that’s how long it took for Mr. Phillip Rainshaw to confess his lust, I mean
love
, for my mother, who was an already married woman.

I’m quite certain he saw her tight ass and big breasts with gentle eyes that would calm a lion, and it outshined the small diamond ring that rested on her left hand, and I’m rather certain she saw his black Amex card given at the upscale spa where she worked as a receptionist in the ritziest area of Dallas, a small commute from the naval base in Fort Worth, Texas.

I stared at the oversized portrait of my mother, the cover for Entertainment Weekly so handsomely framed, paired next to the provocative article written of her that was designed to ruffle feathers, yet it was an article that did just the opposite; it made her a household name. And it was an article that hailed her the modern, golden gold digger. And she loved it, darling. “You can talk about me behind my back, but at least you’re talking about me,” was her famously quoted motto.

He pearls glistened across her neck like a rich treasure found in a special case under the sea. Nothing could hide her thousand-watt, Colgate-white smile framed handsomely with veneers she landed once she officially became a Rainshaw. The strings of nearly a million dollars cascaded down her new breasts, another upgrade she happily wore. That and a nose job, cheek implants. She was already a beauty in my eyes, but this money made her the best version that she saw of herself and she proudly displayed her achievements.

Her pearly white veneers smiled a demure “fuck you, I don't care what you call me. I'm still rich, bitch.” That's what the producers loved about her on the show. She was who she was and no one could crumble her spirit or dim down her bright light. She was living her dream flying high in life, a life that no longer involved my biological father.

My father? Well, he wasn’t dead or anything. Just busy. And overseas.

But it wasn't always this way. They once were madly in love and the new life he had to make for himself filled with navy bases, traveling, and war. It was what he had to do because, well, I popped into the picture. Imagine that for a lifetime of guilt!

Dad was just a southern boy from a good family she fell in love with when they were both sophomores in high school and sixteen. With raging hormones and long dusty country back roads, it's easy to see how
I
happened. She had a nice family she married into, maybe not rich in monetary things, but rich in values, love, and traditions I adored and greatly missed once the big changeover took place. A family that revolved around football and Sunday dinners, who had roots in the first Methodist church downtown three generations back. A family who were honest and good working people who had no plans of ever leaving the good town of Tyler, Texas.

But mom had bigger dreams that expanded beyond the old oil town. As beauty pageant winner Miss Teen Tyler herself, she had the whole world ahead of her and the desire to be a famous model and actress was within reach by a thin few years once she received her diploma. Instead of being handed a rolled document ensuring her freedom and official stamp of approval to move west, she held another document that changed her life forever and sealed her momentary fate.

Me. Surprise! You’re fucking pregnant!

I don't blame her, I mean I see it all the time for a thirty-one-year-old woman to become bored and want to change her life, but cheating on my father was something I could never forgive her for. This change not only changed her life, but it drastically changed mine forever.

Marrying my dad never fit into that plan. Neither did getting pregnant. With me.

I was born six months after she graduated high school. My father joined the service to provide a living for us. For fifteen years of my life, we moved along the south to navy bases until we finally based in Forth Worth, Texas. Dad quickly grew in ranks and in frequent flyer miles to never-ending stupid wars I grew to hate.

From serving in the war and being in Iraq half of my life, it left my mother lonely and bored.

It took one day, one invitation to dinner after meeting Phillip, only one day, and the rest was history.

And that's when they began their affair. The next thing I knew we were upgrading our lives and moving to live with the family that was one of the wealthiest names in the country. As in billions. And as in the guy whose son I had like a diehard crush on. As in a guy I never, ever even thought in a bazillion years I’d ever meet, much less become family!

              As uncomfortable it was for me, this role fit my mother like a glove. It only took her five years and she became famous in her own right from the hit show.

“You're going to love your new life. Trust me. We will go shopping and you can buy all the clothes you’ve ever wanted. You can decorate your room anyway you like. I’m going to throw you the most wonderful sweet sixteen. Just wait and see.”

My mom's entire being lit up like a Christmas tree that could be seen miles away

She’d found her golden ticket and was completely oblivious to my shrine I had of Bradley. The very shrine my friends copied and made their own version of, of the American boy toy who covered Teen Beat and Seventeen magazine.

My friends were insanely jealous when they discovered my new life plans and begged to come live with me in the summer in,
squeal
, the Hamptons. The squeal belonging to them, not me.

The Hampton manor was the biggest house I’d ever seen and I didn't even have to clean my room anymore. This new life was a different world with me arriving to it from a middle class military family; it was like living on planet Jupiter!

Being furious with my mother for cheating on my father and unable live with him because he was stationed overseas, I had to move into a home with a family I knew nothing of, except that they were one of the wealthiest families in America. And oh, they had a son who just happened to be the very boy I had practically worshiped my entire eighth grade and ninth grade year.

My only hope and diversion was to throw my head in the books.

One thing I was actually excited about was the new elite private school I would attend. A closet secret admirer of Gossip Girl, it wasn’t the fashion that made me jealous of Blair and Serena, it was the education.

I loved my teachers and the passion with which they taught. It made me seriously interested in studying literature, and attending an Ivy League actually seemed like a reality and not some far-off dream.

The house was so grand and my classes so different, I hardly saw Bradley, especially since he was a junior and I a freshman. He was always getting into trouble and had to make up for his behavior with a lot of community service. Such wealth and class seemed to age him. At only seventeen, he lived more like a man in his twenties.

And the incident happened.

I shuddered thinking about it and shook my head again at the familiar memories. I made my way down the grand hall and past his bedroom. I peeked into the room. He still was an interesting person.

Horrid memory, trauma or no trauma, such strikingly good looks and body stopped me in my tracks. It was the cover of People magazine framed with Bradley on the cover as voted “most beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes. I'm sure that did wonders to his ego. I leaned in to see the date. Since I was overseas, I got to dodge the celebrity gossip magazines in the supermarket. I really had been living under a rock.

His eyes were exotic green and alluring, whispering to its admirers to take another look, to peer further. The angular nose set off his perfectly high cheek bones.

In his “30 Under 30” shoot for Forbes, his tailored suit and serious demeanor was a contrast to his shirtless photo.

Butterflies danced in my stomach, mixed apprehension, and nerves of facing him after all these years. The distance made us feel like complete strangers. Heck, we were all strangers. Guilt made its first appearance of the day waving its hand my way.
I know…I know…it’s my fault for staying away from everyone….

"Watcha looking at there?" I jumped in fright and spun around. I didn't know Claire had already arrived.

Now, she loved appearing on the reality show. It showcased her super successful line and boutique in the city.

"Oh, do come here, you. Hug your sister. I still hate you for that gorgeous natural ass of yours. You know it's a shame you don't do your own shoots like these. You really could have made a killing as a model."

Her familiar French perfume knocked my senses. More guilt panged my stomach for the absentee sister I had been. Running away.

"I'm so sorry, Claire. How are you handling everything?"

She pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. "He just collapsed. Like that. No warning. No heads up. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. So many things I wanted to do to make him proud of me again."

“Oh he was proud of you. Your boutique and line are doing amazing."

"It better. I'm freaking thirty-two. At thirty-two you have your shit together. I was never like golden boy here."

She folded her arms and sighed as she stared at the wall. I wanted to console her. She did live life awhile without a mother, at the time when a daughter needed one the most. She was closer to my own mother than I was.

"It's horrid, everything Bradley has to think about today. The day his own father dies, he has to step in and take executive role and make decisions he’d rather not make."

My heart did something funny. Something stirred in me.

“Have you spoken to your mother? You know she's filming right now in Tahiti. They were seeking some sunshine. I feel awful for her. You know she really did love my father.”

More guilt paid my heart and my stomach. I never knew I would feel such feelings. I really had become a reclusive hermit, shutting off my heart because I didn't want the world to know me. All because I didn't want my life on display. I locked myself away and lived my life like a nun. Maybe it was time to change all that.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m in the middle of this really important paper and she texted me but I didn’t know it was urgent like this until I actually read the text. As soon as I did, I called her right away, but her voicemail went straight through.”

She gently placed her hand on my shoulder, a sisterly touch I missed.

“Yeah it's not easy flying from Tahiti reception wise. She should be arriving in the next twelve hours. It's okay, you know.” Her words rang to my heart and her firmer grasp caused me to jump.

“Barely seen him. It's natural to be nervous.”

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” The defenses went up.

“All I care about is you guys…Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“If there's one thing my father's death, his sudden passing, has taught me, don't let time go by. Don't make the mistake thinking time will always be there on your side.”