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

by Victoria Cabot

  The rest of the day was spent on job applications, searching for opportunities that I had already applied for, and some errands. I picked up my birth control from the corner Duane Reade. I made sure to save the receipt for Tristan to reimburse.

  I went back to the apartment and did some cleaning. Completely to my surprise, I decided to cook something anyways, just in case someone wanted a late night snack. I decided on making a curry chicken stew and as I did so, I let my mind wander for the millionth time to my situation.

  What had started out as an arrangement that I had basically entered into expecting to remain cold and emotionless had modified had morphed into something else. I was worried that I was having trouble separating my feelings from the sex – this had never been an issue for me in the past before and the fact that it was becoming difficult now began to bother me.

  I knew I should spend some time snooping, but after what happened the day before and the fact that it was already four, I decided to play it safe. But I hadn’t forgotten the obscenely large numbers on the bank statement that I had seen.

  Ahem…

  That’s right. I hadn’t forgotten either about Bruno. Or how he had been cagey about describing Tristan. Or how he had been uncomfortable in calling him. Or the tone he used when he spoke to Tristan. Or how Tristan spoke back to Bruno. Or, the final icing on the cake – how he had hung up. What was it that he had said?

  No, Your Highness, thank you.

  I had chalked it up to just simple sarcasm that the working class displayed for their betters. I knew that if given half the chance I would be just as snarky and sarcastic as I could be to people I worked for if I thought I wasn’t getting a fair shake.

  But the more and more I thought about it, the more and more it didn’t make any sense. If he was being so sarcastic, why wait till the end? And somehow, sarcasm didn’t fit his profile.

  There were too many mysteries to Tristan to comprehend and I felt like I should make a list. I resolved to myself to take an evening for myself that night, when I was supposedly on my date, and try to put together a plan of attack for getting to the bottom of who Tristan was and all the vague ambiguous uncertainty that surrounded him.

  Seven o’clock rolled around and I realized that what I wanted to do more than anything in the world was stay at home and relax with a movie. I contemplated cancelling my fake date and staying in, until I saw Tristan.

  “Oh, I thought you were already out by now,” he said. He seemed surprised to see me – even more surprised to see that I had cooked and cleaned.

  “Just because I’m going out doesn’t mean I forgot my responsibilities,” I said sweetly. I now knew I had to leave. My determination only increased when he went to his room and pulled out several ties.

  “Getting all dressed up?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Who’s the girl?” I kept pressing.

  “Just, uhm, a mutual friend,” he said.

  “Ok, well, have fun,” I wasn’t going to get more out of him and I was torturing myself by trying.

  I went into my room and decided what to wear. Normally, for a date that I would dress up for, I’d be planning much earlier ahead of time. Because it was a fake date, I hadn’t given it much thought at all.

  I heard Tristan walking to my room.

  “Did you get your hair done too for this guy?” he asked.

  OH MY GOD! He noticed your hair.

  He noticed my hair? And he called me beautiful? All in one day.

  Feeling for the first time I had the upper hand, I turned to him and smiled, nodding my head. “Do you like it?” I asked, hoping to twist the knife in deeper.

  “It’s very nice,” he said noncommittal. “Maybe I should start charging rent,” he said with a chuckle.

  I gave him a wan smile. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Tristan.”

  Charge rent? With the eight figures on his bank statement that I saw that day? Was this really breaking him.

  “Who’s the guy?” he asked me, lingering at my door.

  Oh shit! We never thought that far ahead!

  Luckily, I went with the first available answer that was the truth.

  “His name is Jon, I work with him at the coffee shop,” I said, looking him in the eyes. “I know what they say about not dating people you work with, but I’m looking for jobs now and I don’t think I’ll be there much longer so I think it’s okay.”

  He nodded, his face impassive.

  “Besides,” I added trying to get something from him and coming up with the same frustrations as this morning. “He’s super cute.”

  Tristan nodded again, and a part of me seriously wondered if he even had a soul. “Well, that’s always a plus,” he said, again noncommittal.

  I smiled, wondering if he was going to say anything. Maybe he’d add a clause that he’d have veto power over who I dated, next? I maybe wouldn’t mind having that power myself over whatever floozy he was going out with tonight.

  But sadly, that was not to be. I excused myself and went into the bathroom where I showered and emerged in a tight black dress. I had even pulled out my nice lace black thong and bra from La Perla and complemented it with some black high heels. I did my face and went outside to see Tristan in a very nicely cut suit with a red tie and light blue shirt.

  “Wow,” he said, getting up from the sofa he was sitting on once he got a good look at me. “You look amazing.”

  Awwwwww.

  I smiled this time. “Thanks,” I said, genuinely flattered. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  He looked at his ensemble and shrugged. He would really need to stop doing that or else it was going to drive me insane.

  We spent an awkward second looking at each other.

  Go over to him. Kiss him!

  “Well,” I said finally. “I guess I should go.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

  Oh God. Is he going to go out the same time as me?

  I had a good cash flow and solid bank position by this point, but I really didn’t want to waste money to go somewhere and then head right back. I had scouted out a nice quiet Irish bar across the street on Third Avenue and I had my phone in my purse. I planned to come up with the questions that needed answering for Tristan and do some reading and job searching. It only involved walking to get there. But if Tristan followed, I’d have to pretend that I was going somewhere else entirely.

  “Go on ahead,” he said, much to my relief which I tried as best as I could to hide. “I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Okay,” I said, turning around. “Good luck tonight.”

  “Thanks.”

  He’s checking out your ass.

  Just for that, I swayed my hips with an extra bit of kick.

  You’re probably gonna have to pay for that the next time you see him.

  Whatever.

  I had a burger at the corner diner before heading over to the bar at around 8 pm.

  I sat down at a far table, where I could see people coming in and going out and pulled out my phone.

  Who was Tristan Carnahan? I started with a simple Google search, but with 7 billion people on the planet, I received 120,000 responses in 5 seconds with more if I wanted to broaden my scope. I decided to list out the questions that needed answering.

  1.How was Tristan so wealthy?

  2.Was he really that wealthy or did I miss something?

  3.Was Bruno really being sarcastic the other day? And if he wasn’t what was the deal with calling someone ‘Your Highness’?

  4.What happened to his wife, Nadia, and his daughter?

  5.Why was Tristan putting together this ridiculous arrangement when it was obvious that he really didn’t need any help getting laid?

  6.Was I overthinking this too much?

  I sat and began pondering how exactly I was going to tackle these questions. Obviously I was going to have to step up my snooping. With almost a month under my belt, it was completely inexcusable that I didn’t
have answers to these questions.

  I had just made these resolutions when I realized that it was close to 9 pm.

  Oh. Fuck. Speak of the devil.

  I looked at horror as the door opened and Tristan walked in – resplendent in a finely cut black suit with a red tie and blue shirt.

  Fuck. He had chosen this joint over all the other places in New York City.

  All that money and he comes here. That’s one cheap bastard, even if he is beautiful.

  He was going to see me and when no guy came back from the bathroom he was going to realize I had lied!

  I had stopped from crying all day today but I knew that at that moment when Tristan and his date saw me, I was going to break down and not be able to hold it in anymore. It really wasn’t fair how far the deck was stacked against me. With odds like these, most people would have given up long ago.

  Tristan still hadn’t seen me and he walked into the bar, his eyes focused only on the bar. He climbed onto a stool and ordered something from the bartender. I didn’t hear, I was waiting to see what his date looked like. There was still a chance I could make it out of the bar without him seeing me, but it was a very big chance. There was only one entrance and exit and Tristan was sitting at the bar right next to it. It had a very good view of the door.

  I waited for his date. I saw Tristan take a sip of his beer.

  Why hasn’t he ordered for the girl?

  When he finished half of his beer, I realized that it could very well be that he didn’t even have a date

  He’s on a fake date too!!!!

  If there was any justice left in this world, he was on a fake date. But I didn’t want to count my chickens before they hatched and so I sat in the corner, watching him as I drank my wine, waiting.

  When the first beer was finished and Tristan ordered another, I knew he was here by himself. I also knew it was too early for the date to have been over already – I’d almost want people to think it was a fake date than one that went so badly that it ended an hour after it began.

  The guy was on a fake date.

  I got out of my chair, grabbed my wine glass, and started walking towards the bar.

  Wait! What are you doing? Wait it out. Let him leave first.

  Tristan took another sip of his beer as I approached him from behind.

  “Rough night?” I asked.

  He turned towards me and his eyes widened in surprise. I smiled at him sweetly. This was delicious.

  “Wait,” he stammered. “Aren-Aren’t you on a date?” he asked.

  He took a look around the divey Irish bar that we were inside. “The guy brought you here?!” he asked, shocked, not having let me answer. “Jesus!”

  “Mind if I sit?” I asked.

  “As long as your date doesn’t mind,” he said to me smiling.

  “I think he’ll be a bit,” I said smiling at Tristan. “I might as well catch up with you as long as he doesn’t see me talking to another guy.”

  Tristan smiled at me. Did he realize I was joking or did he really think I was cheating on my date?

  Just get out of there girl!

  “We could talk about the maximum weekly limit for, uhm,” Tristan began but looked around and stopped himself.

  “Watching movies,” I helped him along.

  “Right,” he said, relieved. “Watching movies.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, ordering another glass of wine. “I’m game.”

  “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I think, that, if we say we watch movies at least three times a week and at least once every two days, then...”

  “Let’s propose a weekly limit of five times?” I asked.

  “But that shouldn’t include blowj—shit,” he looked around to see if anyone heard. “That shouldn’t include TV shows, or online videos.”

  “I’d say no more than two movies a day,” I was trying to keep up with the analogies.

  “But what about, uhm, other screen time?”

  I sat back. “Would it be easier to have a lawyer present, Tristan?”

  He smiled. “With a page of definitions?” he asked. I nodded eagerly. “Specifying what constitutes a day? What constitutes a week? Does a day begin at 12:01 am, at first light, or when one or both of us wakes up?”

  I laughed out loud. He continued, affecting a lawyerly air, “Let it be agreed upon that both parties agree that oral sex to completion hereby constitutes a qualifying sexual act as per the terms of the arrangement unless more than half of the aforementioned qualifying sexual acts in the past seven day period been of an oral sexual nature as specified in Section 3, Clause 3, Sub-Paragraph 1…”

  I felt like my sides were going to explode as I began to laugh uncontrollably. He joined in and soon we were holding each other, our stomachs aching as we laughed into each other.

  Before I knew it, I was kissing him. Deeply. My tongue was swirling against his. I don’t know how we paid the bar tab, but Tristan somehow guided me off my chair and we made the short walk across the street and down one block and got into the elevator, where he started kissing me again.

  We made it into the doorway, I already had his tie loose. By the time we made it to his bed, I had already taken his tie off and was working on his buttons.

  I didn't exactly know why I felt like that, but I needed to be close to him. Yet, he simply stood there taking in the sight of me. I did the same, looking at him.

  He was beautiful, as beautiful as any man had the right to be. His shirt lay gently over his chest and his trousers traced the contour of his cock in such a way that it almost made my pussy ache. I wanted nothing more than to reach for him and lay my hands on his body.

  I took one step forward, suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety washing over me. Why was I like that? Hadn't I been with him before? Why, then, did it seem different this time?

  I didn't know and, in the end, I didn't care. All that mattered was that he was close, so close I could feel his breath on my skin. He gazed into my eyes, and I almost lost myself. When I realized it, he was already leaning into me, his lips brushing against mine as if that was the most important thing he could do in his entire life. He rested his hands on my hips, pulling me into him gently.

  "I missed those lips." he whispered, pulling back just enough to say those words. He took one hand to my cheek and lay his fingers there, his eyes locked on me.

  "And I missed you, all of you," was all that I could say. I didn't even know why I said it, all I knew was that I had to say it. He leaned for the kiss and, closing my eyes, I let his mouth fit against me.

  I savored his lips slow and delicately, as if I wanted to imprint the memory of that kiss on my brain in such a way that I would never forget it. I reached with my tongue and, feeling his, our kiss grew passionately, my hands pulling eagerly on his hips.

  His fingers went to dress and pulled it down my arms; I threw it off, quickly placing my hands on his hips again, as if it pained me to be away from his body. I started unbuttoning his shirt with slow movements, baring his chest inch by inch.

  It was hard to resist his body, and my fingers went around his chest and abs, cupping it and feeling how gorgeous he was, how everything about his just seemed so fucking delicious.

  He succumbed to my pull and, throwing my dress away, lay his lips against my neck. I let my head tilt back, breathing in the scent of his hair as his hands explored my side and found their resting place over the clasp of my bra; with daft fingers he brought it down.

  I shuddered as I felt myself pulling down his zipper, warm blood hurrying down to between my legs and making me feel as alive as I had ever felt. His cock strained against his boxers, the bulging there brushing against my knuckles.

  Squeezing his ass, his perfect shape filling my hands, I took my mouth to his neck and nibbled at the smooth flesh there, his cologne climbing up my nostrils and taking my brain by assault. I felt his exhale deeply against my ear, the sound of it the sweetest thing I had ever heard.

  He took his arms to behind my b
ack, his hands darting lower towards my sex.

  A shiver went up my spine as the palm of his hand flexed against my crotch, my pussy resting there as it snuggled between his fingers. When he started kissing down my neck, his smooth lips brushing over my nipples and towards my stomach, I closed my eyes in anticipation.

  I went down to my knees and, leaning forward, placed my mouth over the straining shape that tented my boxers. I sucked on it over the fabric, my lips tightly wrapped around his thickness. His cock pulsed hard against my lips as I felt the fabric of it sliding down his ass. I pushed down with my two hands, his cock revealing itself to me, its tip glistening in eagerness.

  Opening my mouth slightly I placed it over my tip, my tongue brushing against it gently. I kept my own pace - my mouth widened slowly as I leaned in, lips sliding over his length inch by slow inch, making my body suffer through a sweet slow boil.

  "I want you." he whispered towards me. I lifted my eyes up to him and, sliding back out and allowing his cock to pop out of my mouth slowly, I smiled at him, beautiful dimples forming around the edge of my mouth. He offered me his hand and, taking it, I rose and turned my back to him, guiding him towards the bed. He let me lead and followed me across the room, the sway of my hips making his hands never leave my moving ass.

  Turning on my heels, he motioned for him to lay down on the mattress. I remained still, though, my heart thrashing around inside my chest as my eyes wandered over his perfect shape. God, I wanted - no, I needed - to feel every single curve, every single inch of smooth skin on my body.

  He threw me onto the mattress and as he leaned forward, I guided his mouth to my chest, his tongue flicking at a tiny hard nipple and then, overwhelmed by the desire to taste me, he lowered his mouth and sucked on it as I cupped both breasts and squeezed, the feel of his tongue on my nipple washing over me.

  More, I thought to himself, I need more.

  His fingertips made the climb back down from my breasts, making the journey over my stomach and discovering my nether lips. His touch was settling on my inner thigh as I squirmed anxiously. With one finger only he traced the tender lines on my lips, making me draw a purred moan out of my lips.