Sloane: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance Novel (11 page)

Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Prologue

Our gazes locked.  He began to slowly lean in toward my lips.

           My mind was in disbelief as he approached me.  My heart was pounding.  I held my breath as his lips neared mine.

           Brandon suddenly didn’t feel like a brother to me anymore.

           I closed my eyes.  I felt Brandon’s breath on my mouth.  His warm lips pressed onto mine and a shudder rocketed throughout my body.

           And then suddenly it was cold again.

           Brandon pulled away fast. I saw him for the first time since he’d, looking embarrassed and ashamed.

Chapter One

           He was a first class jerk who took one look at me and deemed me his target of choice.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  The first words out of his mouth were “wow, what a nerd.”  I remember my cheeks flaring red and my heart shaking in my chest. 

I first met Brandon when I was thirteen and he was seventeen.  My dad married his mom so quick, that the home we’d shared by ourselves suddenly felt crowded and chaotic.  I tried to keep my space like I did at school but Brandon always came looking for me.  He just couldn’t seem to entertain himself any other way.

“Hey dork,” he’d say while leaning in my doorway. 

I’d keep my nose buried in pages and pretend like I didn’t hear him only to feel a wad of paper thrown at the back of my head.  Or a banana peel.  Or a rubber band.  He was infuriating but I only had one year with him before he would hopefully find his own place.  I laughed off the idea of him ever going to college.

I loved the way things were before Brandon.  Well, maybe I didn’t
love
them, being the nerdy virgin bookworm daughter of a single Dad, but the house was often quiet and I had my own space.  I didn’t have any siblings and Dad would work until six, so I got the house to myself after school and read to my heart’s content.  But that all changed when my Dad met Brandon’s mom. 

            I expected, like any two strangers especially at that age, that we’d be shy toward each other at first.  I was the shy one while Brandon had no issue opening his mouth around me.

We hardly spoke, but when we did, it was only because he’d been teasing me, scoffing at practically everything I enjoyed, and usually for no other reason but to get under my skin.  You would have thought it was his extracurricular to poke fun at me; to make me feel terrible about myself.

“Hey you got a lot of zits you know that?” he’d tease.  His jabs were never original, and he often repeated the same lines in rotation throughout the week.  It almost got to where I could predict which one was coming.

Brandon had perfect skin that infuriated kids like me, especially when he’d comment on my zits.  Nothing seemed to ever irritate
him
, but he made it his sole purpose to bother me.

           I was absolutely dreading the upcoming freshman year of high school.  I had already been nervous but now with a senior step brother who hated my guts I was sure it’d be the worst start to high school I could ask for. 

           Brandon came from a totally different world, though and I knew he wasn’t happy to suddenly be thrust into mine.  Not that I let this excuse his behavior for a minute, but I guess I could empathize with his frustration.  After all, I wasn’t happy he was here either, but at least I didn’t have to move and completely change lives senior year.

           However, he was an athletic jock with football being his only concern, so he made friends pretty easily at his new school.  In fact, he collected friends faster than I could even get a word out to someone new.  I envied his sudden popularity and wondered how so many people could love a total jerk.

           Even Dad seemed to be giving him preferential treatment.  When Brandon showed up, I was no longer dad’s sole priority.  I felt more isolated than ever.

           For instance, when Dad drove me to school, he had always played my favorite music in the car. But when Brandon showed up and joined our carpool, he acted as if it was torture to listen to my favorite songs.  He’d plug his ears and complain a lot, making Dad and I feel uncomfortable.  Dad shot me a look of apology before taking Brandon’s side for the millionth time.

           “Sorry sweetie but we’re going back to my talk radio since you two can’t agree on anything” he said, handing my cd back to me.

Brandon turned to me, smug and satisfied, and I felt like curling into a ball of defeat.

           And while it was bad enough he’d continually pester me into a fury, the worst part was when he’d bring home some of the most popular girls in school.  I avoided these girls like the plague, knowing I’d never be accepted by them.  I was content skating through high school with them never learning my name.

           Sometimes they’d even be popular freshman girls who were hanging around him.  Girls I had class with hopelessly tethered to the star athlete in an effort to win his attention.  They started approaching me in class with wrinkled noses as if in disgust to have to talk with me. 

            “So, like, is your brother going to be home later?” one would ask.  I’d only reply by correcting her with “stepbrother,” before hiding my face behind another book.

            “I can’t believe you two are related,” said another.  “You guys look nothing alike.”  I only sighed in reply.

           All the girls wanted to know about my stepbrother, but he didn’t care about
them.
In fact, he seemed to only be interested in the freshman girls because it would annoy
me.

           “Wow I’ve never seen you before, are you a new student too?” Another would often ask me with her doe-eyed expression.  Never mind that I’d gone to school with her for years and I knew who she was.  I was a complete stranger to her, and Brandon thought it was hilarious.

            I was surprised when two long years later Brandon left for college on the other side of the country.  I didn’t miss him at all.  I definitely wasn’t expecting him to even be looking into college much less getting any acceptance letters, but I was grateful to have him finally out of our house.

            In fact, it kind of stung me that he got into one of the best schools in California after watching him goof off all senior year.  After all, I worked like a madman on my schoolwork and always kept a high G.P.A.  It didn’t seem right to me that someone like Brandon could be viable competition for someone like me.

           When he came back after his first semester, he acted like a totally different person.  He was tall and handsome and almost a little mature. Of course, I didn’t buy it.  I kept my distance so I wouldn’t incur any more of his jokes or criticism.  My self-esteem had started to improve ever since the day he left, and I felt like I was finally learning how to come into my own.  I’d be damned before I’d let him make me feel like that again.

           It really didn’t seem like anything was ever going to mend our relationship.  It certainly wasn’t dad’s constant budging of me to accept Brandon as my brother from the time him and Brandon’s mom were dating.  We just didn’t
get
each other or have anything in common, and I wasn’t sure I cared if we ever spoke to each other again.

           “Elle, you hardly said a word to you brother entire time he was here” I remember my dad scolding me after Brandon flew back to Los Angeles.  I gave a long sigh and rolled my eyes.

           “He’s a jerk; besides, he hates me anyway” I said.

           Brandon was far from my mind at the time, though.  He was across the country and I was nearly seventeen at that time, brimming with my own indignant attitude toward everything. So, in standard teenage fashion, I stomped upstairs to avoid continuing the debate with dad.

           But I did find myself regretting not giving Brandon much of a chance.  Despite my not buying what I figured to be an “act,” Brandon had been less invasive when he’d visited.  He teased some, but it almost seemed friendly and light-hearted.  I wondered if I had the wrong impression of him.

           Of course, I might have acted differently if I’d known I wasn’t going to see him again for another four years.  We lived in Miami, and Brandon went to college in Los Angeles. He couldn’t have picked a farther place from us on the continent, it seemed.  And with the hit dad’s bank account took just to fly Brandon back out here for one visit, it wasn’t feasible to have Brandon come back too often.

           It would have been one thing if his mom and my dad stayed together.  Of course he would’ve come home more often, but after that first visit our parents got divorced and his mom moved back to Tennessee.  This gave Brandon virtually zero reason to ever return to Miami.

           I definitely felt bad for dad, but inside I’d been kind of relieved; my chapter with Brandon was seemingly over, after all. And I was back to being dad’s only concern.  Sure, I could’ve been nicer to Brandon while he visited for the last time, but how was I supposed to know it would be the last?  And besides, it was a great opportunity to move on from that terrifying chapter in my life.

           Plus, I was getting older now and thinking forwards, not back. I was busy with school and afterschool programs to seal a nice scholarship.  And with the way my body was developing, boys were making their way onto my agenda too.

           After Brandon moved to LA, he would send me short emails around the holidays, but they read like correspondence from a loose associate, and not a sibling.  All of that was fine with me because I never planned to respond with anything more than, “Yeah, you too.”  He just wasn’t family to me, but I guess I never felt like he was in the first place.  It was just two years were a strange boy and his mom came to live with us and we didn’t get along at all.

           I hadn’t really been paying much attention to Brandon though, but all this time, my stepbrother was quickly maturing into a real man, and a gorgeous one at that.

           In fact, the one time I’d glanced at his social media profile a few years ago, I saw a picture of him and caught my gaze lingering on his abs.  It was a photo from a pool party, and he must have just stepped out because his tight skin glistened in the sunlight.  He had the kind of stomach you only saw in magazines, that you convince yourself doesn’t exist in real life.  For that moment, I wasn’t looking at my stepbrother, I was looking at an incredible sexy man.

           I remember breaking my gaze and thinking to myself how wrong it was to be attracted to him.  Then I quickly closed out my browser.  Brandon and I weren’t
technically
related, but it was too close for comfort. 

           Because we had been
step-
siblings living under the same roof for two years, we’d still seen each other walking around the house in our underwear or getting in trouble for this and that by our parents like normal brother and sister.  Of course, Brandon didn’t look like
that
when I saw him in his underwear.  He used to be a kind of pudgy football player, the kind who had the weight the team needed but with no real definition.

           We didn’t share that kind of life for more than those two short years, but we
had
shared it.  Besides, it’s not like I would have even met him if it weren’t for our parent’s marriage.  And even though it was hell back then, and we had a very frustrating past, it was still a part of our history together.  Well, ‘frustrating’ is an understatement.

           I can’t stress enough how much a jerk Brandon had been to me.  He either locked himself up in his room or made fun of me with his guy friends as I tried hopelessly to mind my own business.

           My stomach would knot every time I’d be in the living room - thinking I’d had to house to myself until mom or dad came home, only for him and his stupid friends to come waltzing in.  They had such clever one-liners, or so they thought, and they never seemed to tire of it.  I’d attempt a few comebacks but they’d fall flat and I’d always end up walking into the brunt of some new joke.  It was really best when I kept to myself.

           The breaking point for me was definitely when he and his friends were hanging outside and I heard them through my open window, calling me “flat chested,” or “pimple face,” to Brandon’s endless amusement.

           So it was particularly stressing when, as a hopeless teenage puppet to my chaotic hormones, I’d sometimes, even back then, catch myself hosting
very
impure thoughts of him.  They mostly started when I caught him making out with a girl on the couch one afternoon.  They were so into it they didn’t even notice me on the stairs, but I watched as Brandon slid his hand up her shirt, cupping her breast and their tongues danced wildly together.