My Stepbrother, His Highness: A Royal Stepbrother Billionaire Bad Boy Romance

by Victoria Cabot

  “Well, Alicia, I think I should tell you a bit about the apartment and the, uhm, arrangement that I’m proposing,” Tristan said, haltingly but with a little bit more life in his voice.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. I was ready to accept right then and there. As I had been answering his questions, I had been thinking how much I could save with free rent and food. If I could continue working part-time like I did to save up, this would be a great temporary arrangement to transition to full-time adulthood!

  “So the apartment is about 2500 square feet,” Tristan began. I nodded nonchalantly, but from everything I knew about square footage, my mind was doing backflips. WTF? I thought I remembered Christine saying something like how she shared an apartment with her roommate and it was about 600 square feet. Tristan continued, “It’s on the 46th floor of a doorman building. There’s a pool and gym at the bottom of the building. They also have a roof deck. There’s a living room, dining room, balcony and three bedrooms. You’d have your own bathroom.”

  This guy must be loaded!

  I continued nodding. I began to think maybe I looked a little stupid, just nodding away as he was talking. I paused and took a sip of my drink. I tried to smile to encourage him on but that just seemed to make him speak more haltingly as if I had made him more nervous. God, didn’t he realize he had absolutely nothing to be nervous about?

  “I’m offering one of the rooms to you and full use of the apartment and it’s amenities. The other room is an office, which you’re welcome to use. I’ll just move some stuff into my room which has an office space. Aside from my room, you’ll have full access to everything. I’ll also give you a card for groceries that you can order online for whatever you want to cook as well as whatever you need to clean,” Tristan said, looking at me.

  “Okay…” I said, wondering why he was trying to sell something that was so attractive. Was he a slob? Was his wife a bitch? “It sounds like a great offer,” I said.

  “Well, let me finish,” Tristan said with a wry smile. The first smile I had seen. Wry or not, it had me melting.

  “Before you finish though,” I jumped in. Tristan looked uncomfortable, as if I was keeping him from using the bathroom or something by cutting in, but I had had two drinks by now so I let it slide off me.

  “Robert said housekeeping stuff, so I’m guessing it’s like cooking, cleaning, laundry, dusting, and such. Is it just you and your wife?” I asked making a pointed reference with my eyes to Tristan’s ring.

  If anything, Tristan jumped. Before I knew it, he put his ringed finger into his pocket away from my gaze. “Actually, it’s, uhm, just me,” he said, trying to act normal with just one hand. “My wife won’t be living in the apartment.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Are you guys…”, I was going to ask divorced but I never got a chance.

  “We don’t live together anymore,” he cut in. “I’d rather not go into the details why.” The dude seemed genuinely flustered.

  “I see,” I responded a bit chastened. Why was he so uptight about her? My brain began to work. Were they separated? Was she dead? Did she not know that he had this apartment? Oh my god, was he cheating on her?

  I began to draw more and more lurid scenarios in my head as Tristan began to talk. I could see his mouth moving, but aside from looking at him, I was getting wrapped up in my own thoughts. Until I heard him say something that brought me back.

  “Sex,” Tristan said, finishing his sentence.

  What the fuck?

  “I’m sorry?” I asked, puzzled.

  Tristan smiled, as if he’d been through this before. “Household duties do include cooking, cleaning, organizing, and laundry.” He took a deep breath. “But it also includes sex.”

  Haha!

  I laughed out loud. “Excuse me?” I said, wondering if I was drunk.

  “That’s the condition of the rent. You – or whoever moves in – also has sexual relations with me.”

  I was stunned. But I wasn’t that stunned that I couldn’t be angry at the same time. Who did he think he was to assume he could impose sex as a rent condition? Was he for real? I mean, taking a good hard look at him I surely wouldn’t mind having his perfect body on top of my own… Not one bit. But to think I’d do it for rent!

  “Excuse me?!” I asked again, an edge of steel to my voice.

  Tristan didn’t look me in the eyes, but just continued, as if rehearsing. “Sex with me on a regular basis.” He looked up at me, already resigned to my response. “I’m pretty sure that’s the deal breaker.”

  I wanted to throw my drink at him. So I did.

  Only it was empty, so all that happened was a few loose bits of ice went his way, which barely made him flinch. I had no words to say to him. My mouth was hanging open. I tried to speak, to throw the glass at him, to do something. But I just sat there.

  He looked at me and I felt sick being in his presence.

  Eventually, I was able to make it to the point where I got my feet to start walking and left him standing there – my mind in a daze.

  Jesus, what is it with the pretty ones?!

  The next morning, I got a text from Dawn that made my heart stop for an instant.

  Dawn: Hey girl! Whered u go last night? We had a gr8 time with boys! ☺

  I immediately called Dawn to make sure she was alright. Did either of them go home with the guys? If Robert or Derek had such a creepy friend, who knows what they could be like. Thankfully, no, no one went home with anyone.

  Did Tristan stay? I don’t know what made me ask that question. The guy skeeved me out.

  I was glad to learn that Tristan left shortly after me. Good. The Creep didn’t stay and salivate after my friends.

  I’d be lying if I said I went out that day, looking for a job, chalking up last night’s conversation to the fact that it took all kinds to make a city and that you’d be likely to run into some weirdos here and there.

  But I didn’t do that. Instead, I went to work, Tristan’s offer in my head. It stayed with me the whole week. It stayed with me while I paid for groceries and cashed my paycheck. It stayed with me as each apartment kept telling me I had to put down two months’ rent and deposit. It stayed with me as I went through every single ad on Craigslist. It crawled into my brain more and more as each person that showed me their apartment loved me, but really, as much as they wanted to, couldn’t push back the initial costs of the rent for me.

  And it flowered to life as I checked my online banking app to discover that I had $45 dollars left until my next payday a week later.

  A week after that, I was officially homeless.

  There was only one thing to do in such a dire situation.

  I went to Trader Joe’s and bought two bottles of $3 Charles Shaw (Three buck Chuck) and proceeded to go home and drink myself silly.

  The way I saw it, I was broke, homeless, and without anyone to turn to. And worst of all, Tristan’s offer now started to seem more and more like a path forward.

  A bottle of wine later, I was ready accept the Creep’s offer, tail tucked between my legs and take him up on his offer. If I thought twice about it, it wasn’t that bad of a deal: my room and rent problem would be solved, and I’d get to taste that mighty delicious body of his. Sure, he was a creep. but that didn’t make him any less hotter.

  It took another bottle of wine to draw up the courage to actually call him. But first I had to get his number. I texted Dawn.

  Alicia: Hey babe. Can u do me a favor? I need Tristans ph num. Do you have either of those guys?

  However long it too, it was long enough for me to go find some beers in the fridge. I opened one when a message came in from Dawn.

  Dawn: Sure babe. I asked Rob. He’s over now. Its 212-917-9203. Booty call? Have fun, slut!

  If Dawn only knew the truth.

  I drank my beer as I stared at my phone, the number dialed, just waiting to for me to hit SEND.

  Maybe he had already found someone. This was New York City. If there was a guy like
him out there, there sure as hell was a girl too. I mean, there had to be millions of other women in the city in my boat, right?

  Maybe he figured it would be less hassle just getting a hooker who could also do some cooking. If he could afford an apartment like that, he could sure as hell afford to shell out for some professional services.

  Maybe he got arrested. Maybe he ended up proposing his plan to the wrong girl. Maybe she had gone to the NYPD and they had come in with their nightsticks and beaten the shit out of him. Well, serves him right for being such a creep. Or maybe some girl had gotten suckered into it, and then he made his move and it didn’t go over well. And she called and NYPD came in, this time with guns. And he was dead.

  By the end of that beer, I was pretty sure it was a wasted call. So I went ahead and pressed SEND.

  It rang once. Then twice. Then a third time.

  Finally, the beautiful voice of Tristan (although now it sounded creepy), “Hello?”

  All of a sudden, I didn’t know what to say. I froze.

  “Hello? Hello, who is this?” he asked, more insistently.

  It was then that I noticed the time. It was 2:55 am.

  Crap. Oh, well. Better late than never.

  I summoned all my courage, and said very declaratively, “Fine. I’ll take your fucking room, Tristan.”

  There was a pause and then an audible sigh. I waited.

  He spoke after what seemed like ages. “It sounds like you’re pretty wasted. I’ve just gotten home from work and I have to be up soon.” I couldn’t believe my ears as he continued, “Whoever this is, call me back tomorrow when you’re sober and able to make better decisions.”

  I was about to retort when I heard a click and looked at my phone. The HOME screen stared back at me.

  That creepy bastard had hung up on me. After everything he had said and done, he had the nerve to hang up on me. Who the fuck did he think he was? Just how many people were all of a sudden interested in his room?

  I was about to call back again and give him a piece of my mind when I yawned.

  It was late. I was tired. While I still couldn’t believe it, maybe I could save my indignation for tomorrow.

  I put my phone down and passed out.

  The Deal

  I woke up the next morning with a bit of a problem.

  I was still broke, and I was one day closer to being homeless. Worse, I had drunk-called Creepy Guy and gotten rejected even by him!

  I had a pounding headache and no dignity, having being hung up on by a pervert. The good thing was that I didn’t really look that foolish because I could say I really had zero respect for the guy. Attractive or not, he surely had a loose screw.

  I had work that afternoon and after stumbling around a little bit, I managed to look presentable and show up at the coffee shop. I made a fair amount in tips, but when I added it all up, I came to the sobering realization that even if I had several good tipping days in a row, it wasn’t enough to prevent me from financial doom if I had to grow up and get my own apartment.

  The truth was, there was nothing much to cut back on except my MetroCard for the subway, food, and rent. I had cut to the bone and was still coming up short. I came to the conclusion that I had been dreading since I first stormed out of the bar at Ricardo’s going away party. I would need to sit down and have a serious talk with the Pervert.

  I called him from my phone on my way from work. This time he answered on the first ring, “Hello?” Again, that smooth, silky, child-predator voice.

  “Hi. I was calling back to see if your room was still open to move into?”

  There was a pause. I could just imagine him on the other end of the line, sitting back and unzipping his jeans, his hands going to his cock.

  “Are you sober now?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Ok. Have you interviewed before for the room?” he asked perfunctorily.

  “I have,” I was giving him just the answers to the questions he asked. Nothing more.

  “Okay, great. So you know what the conditions of the rent are?”

  “I know just the high level,” I answered. Then I added, “But I need to know more about the details.”

  “That’s fair. I’m at the apartment tonight if you want to come by. Or we can meet tomorrow from noon to 3.”

  I thought about this one. “I’d rather meet somewhere neutral, if you don’t mind,” I said, thinking to myself that this guy could still be a Patrick Bateman-esque serial killer. “Can we do tomorrow at 1 pm at Union Square?”

  “I completely understand,” he said. Was he sounding gracious. From the Pervert? “What about the café at the Barnes and Noble on Union Square South? It’s a public place, but we can still have a conversation. Grab a table, I’ll come by at 1 pm.”

  “That works for me,” I said, relieved. No one as far as I remember had ever been kidnapped from a Barnes and Noble café. “Do you remember what I look like from when we met?”

  There was a little bit of laughter on his end. “I think I can figure it out. I only interviewed three girls, and I can rule out two of them…”

  Fuck Alicia! What did he do to them?!

  “Uhm…what?”

  “…because they had Southern accents. You sound like you’re from California, so I think I remember you.”

  “Oh, ok.”

  “With Dawn and Christine, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, I’ll find you easy then.”

  “Ok.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “See you tomorrow,” I answered and hung up.

  Pervert!

  I woke up the next morning and didn’t really give myself time to think about what I was walking into. It was easier going about the day in auto-pilot. Besides, I had a morning shift at the coffee shop and breakfast was usually busy, but a desert for tips. Filled with people on their way to work, too self-important to really pay attention.

  Self-important like I might be if I ever have a job.

  While I tried to focus on my shitty morning shift, two questions kept going through my mind.

  What were the details that we were going to speak about?

  Could I really go through with this?

  But I couldn’t do anything more than just ask those questions over and over in my mind. I decided after my early morning shift was over to drop off a few job applications I had filled out the night before. It was the perfect task for someone who was on autopilot – I wasn’t really expecting anyone to call me back, but I knew that I had to get into a routine and keep trying. It helped that I felt I was at rock bottom – I was going to a meeting later on in the day to discuss shacking up with the Pervert, I was so broke.

  So, it was with some nervousness that I sat in the Barnes and Noble on Union Square. I no longer had a smartphone - it was something that I had been forced to give up when I couldn’t afford the $65 monthly data plans. So I just sat there, thumbing through a magazine but looking around me at the people, waiting for the Pervert. Everyone else was so intent on their conversations, their food, their books, their phones. I wondered how many of them were hiding their drama behind their veneer of normalcy, much in the same way I was doing.

  It was an intriguing thought, but something that I was jarred from when the Pervert sat down all of a sudden in front of me. “Hi there,” he said as I looked at him with a startled expression.

  In a moment, my startled expression realized who he was and I have to say, once I got another look at him, he was startlingly disarming. He was as handsome and beautiful as ever – in a grey button down shirt and jeans, his hair slightly mussed and light stubble on his chin. I wondered just why such a good looking man was having to resort to pay for sex. I mean, if he wasn’t such a creep I’d gladly do it for free. Hell, he was so hot I bet some women would even be willing to pay him for the privilege.

  It takes all kinds, Alicia.

  I thought best not to ask. Somehow, in the time since I had last
spoken to the Pervert and now, I had conjured in my mind a lecherous devil with red eyes, a tail, sharp teeth, horns, and very unkempt. It put me at ease to see how normal looking he was outwardly.

  It’s the normal looking ones that are the weirdest.

  Given the nature of our meeting, the most I could reply back to him was a weak, “Hello.”

  Tristan – or The Pervert – looked at me for a second, as if sizing me up, before beginning. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble with the name. What was it again?”

  “Alicia,” I replied, wondering why I was offended that this creep had forgotten my name. But no way in hell I was giving this man my last name just yet.

  “Let’s get to the details of the arrangement?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to affect as much of a professional tone as him. “Please, lets.”

  What the fuck, girl?

  Luckily, The Pervert didn’t dwell on my making an ass of myself in front of him. I decided to take charge. “So you said that as part of living in the apartment, housework was expected and somehow that included sex too. I’m guessing that this isn’t like a ‘once-a-month as rent is due kind of thing’”.

  “Right,” Tristan said, looking at me square in the eyes now. I guess whatever reticence he had was long gone. “The arrangement is for regular sex. That can mean a lot to different people. For me that’s going to be a few times a week.”

  “How much is a few?”

  Tristan thought for a moment. “At least 3 times a week, but could be more or less.” Before I could respond, he clarified, “But, never more than two days without.”

  I started doing the math in my head as he continued. “I’m not into anything crazy or weird. Nothing 50 Shades or anything. Just regular sex.”

  “Such as?” I said, prompting more.

  “Just two people, naked, doing it,” he said, trying to explain.

  “What about oral sex? Does that count?” I asked.

  He nodded his head, but clarified, “Yeah, but not every single time.”

  “That’s as kinky as I go,” I wanted to make sure this wasn’t going to turn into some Eyes Wide Shut party.