President Stepbrother…With Benefits
A Stepbrother Billionaire Bad Boy Romance
Victoria Cabot
Sinful Selections Publishing
Contents
Romance Review Club
News Flash - Late February
1. Austin
2. Ashley
3. Austin
News Flash - Late February
4. Ashley
5. Ashley
6. Austin
7. Ashley
8. Austin
9. Ashley
News Flash - Early March
10. Ashley
11. Austin
12. Ashley
13. Austin
14. Ashley
15. Austin
News Flash - Late June
16. Ashley
17. Austin
18. Ashley
19. Austin
20. Ashley
Epilogue
Note From The Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Introduction
21. Alicia
22. Ian
23. Alicia
24. Ian
25. Alicia
26. Ian
27. Alicia
28. Ian
29. Alicia
30. Ian
Afterword
Note From The Author
President Stepbrother…With Benefits
A Stepbrother Billionaire Bad Boy Romance
By Victoria Cabot
Copyright 2016 by Victoria Cabot
All rights reserved
Kindle Edition
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental. This work is intended for adults only.
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This book is dedicated to two individuals - Misha Carver and Reese Patton.
I am blessed that two people such as these ladies exist in the world.
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News Flash - Late February
Good evening and welcome to the Nightly News. I’m your host, Tristan Carnahan.
We begin our coverage today with news of the recent vote in the House of Representatives and the US Senate to remove the age restriction on holding the office of President of the United States. In a simple roll call vote, parties of both sides today overwhelmingly passed the amendment to the United States Constitution that removes the restriction of being at least 35 years of age to hold the office of President of the United States.
The legislation now goes to the desk of the President, who may choose to sign it and submit it to the states, where a two-thirds majority voters will need to approve it in order for it to be applied to the Constitution.
A special Constitutional Convention is being convened for July in order to bring this matter to a successful decision.
Despite the optimism, the President has repeatedly let it be known that should Congress deliver such a bill, he will veto it and prevent its passage. When asked for his reasons, the President commented that the Constitution was written to allow for the young to mature before holding the highest office of the land. And it would be irresponsible to allow for someone who was inexperienced to take office. When asked for an example, he merely asked, “Have you spoken to the Speaker of the House lately?”
He was of course referring to Speaker Austin Bain, the self-made billionaire, who at 27 is the youngest Congressman to be elected as Speaker of the House of Representatives.
We’ll have more on this story for you from our special correspondent. But first, a special profile brought to you by the Nightly News on noted porn star Trixie Banks and her recent agreement with a major movie studio to create a remake of the children’s classic story, Snow White….
1
Austin
I fucking love being me. I know that's sounds like an asshole thing to say, but hey, what can I say? I'm a fucking asshole. I freely admit it.
The fucking women love me. And my 11-inch cock.
I take a sip of my $600 a bottle scotch whiskey and I look around the table at me.
"Gentlemen," I say, raising my glass, "Cheers to getting our way on HR-222!"
Shouts of 'hear hear' and 'Congratulations' go around the table.
Why are they cheering at me, you ask? No reason, except I'm just the master of the fucking universe today.
"This is a very big accomplishment, Austin," my media adviser, Leon is telling me. "People will never forget this. Especially with the opposition you faced from both sides."
Yeah it's fucking big. And no they won't forget it. Kind of like how that slut Russian diplomat I fucked last night till she passed out will never forget me.
I'm sitting at the Capitol Grille - the famous Washington DC steakhouse known for their scotch, steak, and women. The women just flock to the place of course, looking for power. And power is what I fucking had. In spades.
At 27, I am the youngest fucking Speaker of the House that this country had ever fucking seen. That’s right baby – I’m 27 and six feet and four inches of pure fucking muscle. And I seriously mean "fucking muscle" because that's what my body is. It's a giant set of muscles designed to do only one thing: fuck.
Oh no, a member of Congress isn't supposed to talk like that, is he? Fuck you. I got this job after I got back from Afghanistan and the Congressman we had representing the fucking Upper East Side in New York City was being a giant prick. So what did I do? I fucking ran against both candidates in the primaries. As a fucking independent. How did I do that? With my own fucking money that I made trading stocks while I was killing Al Qaeda.
What? You think this is crazy and you don't believe me? You think it doesn't make sense why a Congressman - and Speaker of the fucking House - talks the way I do? How was I trading stocks while I was in Afghanistan? Well, here's a fucking clue. Go online and turn on something called the internet. You can do pretty much anything from there.
Honestly though, I'm not giving you a hard time. And I need to be completely honest with you. I started building my fortune when I was playing football in high school. I started trading stocks back then. My Dad gave me $250,000 and I turned it into $129 million.
What? My Dad's really wealthy.
I think he was doing it because he wanted to make sure I was okay. Life had been lonely for the two of us after Mom finally died from the cancer when I was five. I knew it wasn’t easy for him either, having to raise me and maintain his law practice. See, I was a sophomore in high school and when he finally got married again – that meant it was me and him for 11 years. Then this woman, Samantha and her daughter, Ashley joined our family. Dad wanted to make a peace offering.
Well, he didn't need to. I just wanted him to be happy. But I still used that initial capital to make my first fortune, which I dedicated to my mother instead of sitting around feeling jealous that my Dad was moving on.
In Afghanistan, I took the millions I had and placed it with an asset management firm that specialized in some risky as shit private equity investments. Made a whole fucking lot of money there.
So when Congressman Asshole started giving me shit about how it was really hard to do anything in Washington, I didn't fucking listen to him for one minute. I told that guy I was going to fucking take his job.
His party sucked. His opponent’s party sucked too. So I just ran as myself. Just plain, ol' Austin fucking Bain.
And I got fucking elected. That's right. I won.
Did I have to work hard? Sure? But I partied every fucking night. The women are just insane here. They throw themselves at you, all looking for that "MRS" degree from the school of fucking life.
I tell every single fucking girl before we fuck that I'm just here for a good time. That I'm going to treat her like a fucking Queen during the week that I’ll give them, and then after that, if they're lucky maybe I'll call for a booty call or something one night when I'm wasted.
At least that's what I told the Democratic Majority Leader. She was a MILF from Nebraska and she sucked my cock real fucking good. But after a week or so, I stopped returning her phone calls. See, I had moved on to the French Ambassador's daughter and I was nailing her in the back seat of my car, showing her how American kids do it. After that, it was the billionaire’s wife. Although that didn’t count because he went to jail for insider trading. Then it was the Hollywood starlet that won the Oscar for best actress. What was her name? Whatever.
So when the Majority Leader got all pissy that she couldn't have my 11-inch cock inside of her anymore, she started trying to win me over. Said so many nice things and called in so many favors that the next time they had elections for Speaker of the House, guess who got elected in a compromise between parties? Right. The fucking Independent from the Upper East Side.
Does that change who I am? Hell fucking no.
"The victory is all pretty meaningless if the President doesn't sign the damn bill," I say, looking around sternly at my staff.
There. See? I didn't fucking curse during that sentence. I'm not a complete fucking animal. I can speak with some amount of care when I need to. I can charm the fucking panties off of any girl. You don't believe me? Why not? You're smiling now, aren't you?
What about now?
"Well, the President isn't going to sign a piece of legislation that removes the 35-year old age requirement anytime soon, so we might as well enjoy and try to spin some sort of victory out of this," says Leon. He's thirty years older than me, which means he's fucking ancient.
"That's fucking bullshit," I say, this time I'm angry.
Right, sorry if I seemed in a bad mood to you before. See, I just made sure this major piece of legislation gets passed through the House and Senate down both parties throats. It lowers the age requirement to be President. It removes the constraint that you have to be 35 fucking years old. And now, because it changes the Constitution, the states are going to vote for it. But before they do that, the President has to sign off. Only he's not going to do that because he's being a major prick and he wants to kill the wind beneath my wings because I'm a fucking Independent and not a Republican or Democrat. Fuck him. I'll show him who the boss is.
I get up from the table.
"Austin," Nadia says to me, raising her voice. "Where are you going?"
Nadia Moore is my Chief of Staff. She's close to my age. Little older. She’s from St. Penares – daughter of some nobility or something. Anything else about her? Oh yeah. We fucked for like a week last year. Out of all the girls, she's the only one I think that could deal with the aftermath and stayed around. I think she’s adjusted okay. I hope.
"I'm going to the White House," I say calmly. "I'm going to get that motherfucker to sign the fucking bill and then I'm going to go back to New York for my Dad's birthday."
"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Nadia asks. "I mean you've been drinking."
Fuck that. I drink every fucking day. Either at dinner or at the clubs at night. What? You think I sit at home reading briefing papers? Hell fucking no. I'm Speaker of the House. I’m too busy getting drunk and getting laid without even having to try.
I don't listen to Nadia and I walk out of the restaurant.
Why is this so fucking important to me? Well, fuck, sure, I guess I'll tell you if you're curious.
The truth of the matter is that people have always given me shit because I’ve accomplished stuff before them. And that’s the beauty of this country. The sky’s the fucking limit. Except this 35-year-old restriction. It’s age discrimination of the worst sort. And rather than sit around doing shit for the next 8 years, I figure I could run the next time around too if this passed, you know?
"Austin!" Nadia yells out at me, running out of the restaurant, but I don't stop. I start crossing the street towards the Capitol Mall. I pull out my phone and speed-dial Mike, a reporter friend from The News of the Times.
"Mikey," I say into the phone when he picks up. "The President's not going to sign HR-222 because it was promoted by an Independent, so I'm going up to The White House to talk to him about it right now."
My staff has mostly left the restaurant and they're following me, curious to see how this train wreck is going to play out.
"What are you talking about, Austin?" Mike asks. "The President invited you? I thought he hates your guts?"
"He does. I'm still going over there. And no he didn't invite me," I inform Mike as I cross the street. A whole fucking gaggle of tourists sees me and they start taking pictures. A bunch of them start to follow me too.
"Well, so you're literally walking there now?" Mike asks.
"Yeah. Me and some people who are following me," I reply, scanning the crowd. My staff has begun handing out some flyers and shit to people who are just following along. I don't know where they got them from. Hell, someone from the office must have met us with them. A lot of them are on the phone, I think trying to do damage control. Whatever. That's not my concern.
"Stay right there, Austin," Mike says. "I'm coming over."
"Better meet me on the way then, amigo," I say walking Pennsylvania Avenue onto 7th Street. The White House is on 15th Street.
Mike curses on the other end of the line and hangs up. I can tell he's racing to get here. He's going to have company. It looks like I've attracted a pretty sizable crowd and there's some press now. People see other people following me and they join in. Other people see more people and people all start flocking, getting on the fucking bandwagon.
And at the head of it, there's me. Just enjoying a walk down Pennsylvania Avenue.
By the time I get to 15th Street and then 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, a gigantic fucking crowd is following me. I don't know if it's real, but when I look back I even see some fucking torches and pitchforks. That's fucking hilarious.
In order to save embarrassment, the White House Press Office attempts to pretend like they were expecting this the whole time and they even drop a comment on Twitter telling me they'll meet me on the South Lawn.
Yeah, right. It's getting dark. I'm supposed to wait in the dark with a crowd of people on the South fucking Lawn? I go up to the gate and demand to go inside.
"Sorry, sir," the gate guard is telling me. "My instructions are to take you to the South Lawn."
There are fucking news cameras rolling now capturing every fucking second. This gate guard seems like a nice guy. He works a regular shift, earning maybe $50,000 and doesn't ask for much responsibility. Just check ID when people drive up and buzz them to where they need to go. He didn't expect a fucking mob to show up at the steps of the White House, some chanting, during his shift.
I wonder if Ashley's watching me on television. Ashley's my stepsister by marriage. Se
e, when my Dad married her mom, she came with the whole package and joined our family too. I swear, even though she's my stepsister, we've hardly spoken more than three words to each other this year. We were never close. I was in my senior year in high school when Dad got married and I barely saw Ashley because she was at boarding school. Then I went to Oxford for four years and didn't get a chance to visit much. Sometimes my parents came to England and that meant I didn't even go home. After that it was Afghanistan and then when I got back I got my own apartment in New York and saw my family more, but Ashley had already gone off to college. I bet if she were in this crowd, I wouldn't even recognize her. But then again, she was always the good girl. Studied hard and kept her fucking nose clean. She wouldn't be in this rabble right now.
And it turns out, The White House is aware of the optics of keeping a large number of citizens just standing there because a call comes in and the guard picks up, listens and turns to me. "You can go in, Mr. Speaker," he says.
A cheer goes up from the crowd and there are all of a sudden like 200 Secret Service agents trying to make sure everyone stays in an orderly fashion up to the main entrance of The White House.
I'm reading Twitter as we go and I see that I'm on fucking CNN and Fox News already. Helicopters are circling overhead. This shit is a circus. And the media loves a fucking circus.
No one has any idea where the President or Vice President are so I take myself to the Registration Desk but I don't know where to go.
"I need you to wait in the Lobby," the guard tells me.
"Listen bub," I tell him. "I'm not going to just hang out in the lobby like a chump. No one tells me to fucking wait. I’m going to go sit in the Map Room and he can come to me there."
President Stepbrother...With Benefits: A Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Page 1
