My Stepbrother, the Billionaire, & the Ball: Forbidden Romance (The Step Contract, Book 2)

by Stephanie Brother

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  More from Stephanie Brother

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  More from Stephanie Brother

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  Copyright © 2015 Stephanie Brother

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18. All characters represented are 18 or over.

  1

  “Reservation for Forsythe, please.”

  We were at the Castle Hotel in Tarrytown, New York. It wasn’t that far outside of the Greater Metro area, but a traffic jam had made the trip take an hour longer than normal. We were, Blake had so nicely decided to inform me, going to spend three days in Sleepy Hollow together.

  I didn’t dare to sit down while Blake checked us in for fear that I might fall asleep in the lobby. So when he handed me a key card and started walking toward the elevators, it took me a few seconds to realize both of our cards had come from the same envelope.

  “Hey! Blake!”

  It’s hard to master the shouting whisper, especially when you’re trying to catch up to a six-foot something man striding briskly down a hallway, but I was giving it my best. “Are these keys to the same suite?”

  “Of course they are.” Blake didn’t slow down.

  “Blake, no! I just… no. This is not cool. I can get a cab if there are no more rooms available, but I’m not comfortable—”

  “—With me sleeping on the couch?” Blake smirked. “That bed is probably going to be the most comfy mattress you’ve ever slept on.”

  He was not getting off that easily. I ran in front of him, held the elevator door open, and blocked his way. “I’m allergic to down pillows.”

  “I’ll have room service send up some microfiber ones.”

  The muscles in my jaw twitched as I clenched my teeth too hard. “I’m allergic to excessive opulence.”

  “I brought allergy pills.” He pushed his way inside and pressed the number for our floor.

  “You’ll never hear a louder snorer.”

  “Good thing I own ear plugs.”

  He looked amused. This was so not funny!

  “I’m a private person, Blake. The only reason I didn’t report you to the Roosevelt for breaking into my room was because you’re a relative.” Futility was a foreign word to me. I was not going to be within 50 feet of both him topless and a bed at the same time. It was just not a good idea. I was already planning on raiding the minibar, and who knows what might happen then?

  “What’s the matter, Jenna? Afraid I’m going to hog all of the hot water?” Blake laughed and exited, looking for our suite.

  Our suite. This couldn’t be happening. Could it?

  He held the door for me. We dumped our meager luggage, and I eyed him warily, trying my best not to gawk at the luxury of the high class accommodations. Blake had really outdone himself. But I guessed that was what billionaires were supposed to do when they wanted to seduce their step siblings over a weekend.

  Except that he didn’t want to seduce me; he wanted to horrify his grandparents and gain access to his inheritance.

  I was too tired to be as offended right then as I probably would be in the morning. Why had I signed up for this again?

  Oh, yeah. Failing business.

  Sighing to myself, I kicked off my shoes and had my hands on the hem of my dress when I remembered I wasn’t alone.

  Blake was frozen in place across the room, in the middle of putting the spare sheets on the couch.

  “I can use the bathroom first, if you want,” he offered, looking away.

  “Sorry! Sure, that’s fine,” I said lamely.

  That time, I made sure the door had closed and he was behind it before I pulled the dress off and reached for the nightclothes in the travel bag.

  When I went to hand up the McQueen dress in the closet, I received the answer to what I was going to wear. Blake had bought me a wardrobe of ready-to-wear designer clothes. There were a couple outfits for every occasion. Literally three year’s worth of my salary was hanging in a closet. All in my size.

  “How did you find all of these clothes for me?” I yelled through the bathroom door.

  “Sylvia,” came the muffled response.

  It figured. “She must have had a busy day.”

  “She and Andy both. He dropped them off.”

  It sounded so nice to have a personal assistant. I wondered if I could convince Mimi to do my shopping for me if I paid her in cookies.

  Even though my tee and wireless bra and boxers were standard and not revealing anything but my long legs, I still felt a little exposed, so I waited behind the bed in the pretense of setting my alarm as Blake strolled back into the room, complete with toothbrush in mouth. It was disarmingly cute.

  I mentally slapped myself. Get a grip, Jenna!

  “Show I reabby ate to do dish, an promish not to be pished, but I hab doo addend a tewecomfwensh preddy mush all deh domorruh,” he said. Between the toothpaste in his mouth and the massive distraction the slightly pleading look he was giving me was, that’s what I heard, anyway.

  “Say whaa?” I frowned.

  He rolled his eyes and held up a finger. “Sowwy. Just a shec.” Blake disappeared into the bathroom again to rinse out his mouth.

  “I really hate to do this to you, and promise not to be pissed, but I have to attend a teleconference pretty much all day tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Wait a minute. “You’re leaving me here by myself for a day with no transportation?”

  “I’ll be here, I just won’t be free to hang out,” he explained. “Andy will be your chauffeur. Your actual chauffeur, since I’m guessing you can’t drive a manual gear car.”

  Damn. I knew he would find a way to keep me from driving the Ferrari. “Not a clue. Are you sure Andy’s going to be okay with this?”

  Blake shrugged. “It’s his job, and he can drive stick.”

  I shrugged back, acting nonchalant when I was secretly disappointed he wasn’t going to make a bigger show of spending time with me. “Okay. So I can go and visit some of the local landmarks?”

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Blake was doing what could be described as ‘pouting.’ “Well, I had planned on taking to you to see Kykuit Estate and horseback riding on the trails at Beech Hill Farm. But you’re free to do whatever you like. I’ll be finished with business by dinnertime.”

  “As much as I’m disappointed you won’t have to hold back the snark now that we’re out of earshot of our parents, I’ll do my best to survive for a day without your company,” I said. “Although you’ve been so ‘not mean’ on this trip that I wouldn’t actually mind spending the whole weekend with y
ou.”

  That slipped right out. The word vomit would be the death of me yet.

  “Then I’m not a troll anymore?” he said.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  * * * * *

  Staying in a five-star hotel had its perks.

  I slept so well, I almost didn’t wake up to the delicious smell of fresh pancakes, sausage, and hot chocolate. Blake had remembered my favorite breakfast.

  I savored the guilty pleasures of carbs, more carbs, and meat. Washing my hands, I examined my new wardrobe and tried not to squeal in delight at stuff I could never afford to splurge on. I settled on an overdress with black yoga pants underneath and brought along an extra top and jacket for good measure. As much as I loved the Coco Chanel sneakers, I was glad Blake (or Sylvia) had decided to buy a selection of footwear, including some Brooks all-purpose gym shoes. I took those, a pair of simple flats, my camera, and stuffed everything into a Coach bag before changing into workout clothes.

  The hotel was gorgeous, and I wasted a good twenty minutes of my morning jog exploring the grounds and taking pictures of the turrets and helicopter pad before one of the porters started giving me funny looks and I rushed back to my room, embarrassed.

  Andy left me a note on the door saying he’d be around and to just text him when or if I was ready to go to Sleepy Hollow proper. I showered, dressed, and texted him to meet me in the lobby in ten minutes.

  “Enjoying your hotel, Miss Hill?” Andy smiled at me and led outside to the car.

  “He speaks!” I replied. I leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m pretty sure the thread count on the sheets is 600. This is from my vast experiences with comparable brands, like Super Saver $2 cotton and other fine textiles.” I winked.

  Andy mock-frowned. “Only 600 count? Scandal!”

  We were going to be fine for the day.

  * * * * *

  If you’ve spent most of your formative years with parents who liked to take frequent family trips and then finally embarked on a solo vacation in adulthood, you’ve experienced the feeling of complete liberation that goes with visiting what you want, when you want, at your own pace. You don’t have to go on side excursions when it’s pouring out because “this will be the only chance you ever get!” You don’t have to feel badly about making people wait while you hunt down the nearest restroom. You don’t have to spend half of a day outside said bathroom while a cousin who binge-eats as a side hobby debates whether or not the crab cakes from that sketchy street vendor several blocks ago just disagreed with them or gave them food poisoning. There are no frustrated sighs as you take your time perusing the gift shops or arguments about what landmarks you’re going to miss because of traffic, no snide remarks at how many or few pictures you take. You can just be and live in the moment.

  That was more or less my day alone in Sleepy Hollow, between texting Andy to pick me up. He didn’t complain, and he honored my privacy, although he did insist I give him the receipts so that “Mr. Forsythe can reimburse you later.” I wanted to pass along the message that if Mr. Forsythe wanted to pay me back, he could allow me the pleasure of the sin I was supposedly committing with him instead of play acting at it, but I held my tongue.

  I visited the both Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and the Old Dutch Burying Ground and photographed a couple of the churches. I saw the spot where the original bridge featuring in Washington Irving’s tale had been and the plaque that marked the spot, and it made me wonder why that particular landmark hadn’t been rebuilt, being iconic and all.

  Philipsburg Manor was also really cool, although I cut my visit short to eat lunch at the Bridge View Tavern before heading out to Rockwood Hall State Park. I set off on the hiking trail and followed the old carriage roads, past the ruins of the old Rockefeller mansion and over several old bridges to admire the lake and the weeping beeches. It was such a contrast from the noisy, thriving hub of New York City.

  The jarring vibration of my cell phone broke my reverie.

  It was a text. From Mimi, praise all that was holy. If I had to deal with Dad or Lana’s questions, I might not be able to keep my mouth shut at this point.

  How’s NYC? Dish it, girl! Have you secured a loan? Is Blake still being an asshole? Tell meeeeeeee! It’s been a slow day and I’m lonely without you keeping me company and may I remind you that you were supposed to call me two days ago, not just text? Throw a girl a bone here! xoxo Mims.

  I laughed and shot off a quick reply:

  I miss you too! So sorry I forgot to call later after I texted. Family is exhausting. Helen and Robert are a no go, but I found someone else who may be able to help me, if I decide the terms aren’t too harsh. I’m in Sleepy Hollow right now. Blake has been okay. TTYS. Hugs — J.

  There was no way I could tell her that Blake was here with me or what I had in mind to secure the loan. She would freak the fuck out, and I just could not deal with more drama at the moment or the questions she would have when she calmed down enough to speak in full sentences. Shoving the phone back in my bag, I continued walking.

  At one, I was alone on a good stretch of path. Or so I thought, until the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I whirled around.

  Nobody there.

  Internally smacking myself, I continued walking. Of course I wasn’t alone. There were animals all over the place. Hadn’t I just spotted a deer five minutes ago across the lake?

  I did quicken my pace a bit until I caught up with another group of tourists, though.

  The whole time, I turned Blake’s behavior over and over in my mind. Every time he was nice to me, it made me want him more, and I was terrified of being under his power in any way. I wanted to tell him off, or better yet, demand something outlandish, like getting me pregnant and letting me skip the artificial insemination as well as giving me sex with the only person I really wanted. But I was too proud to beg for his body, and it would lessen the complete fuckmuppetry of his twisted plan in the first place. I wanted him to know I thought it was wrong to offend his grandparents with the veneer of a forbidden love that he had denied and disowned from the beginning.

  If he was willing to deal with the shame, couldn’t we at least have the real thing?

  No, according to Blake.

  There were tears making their way down my cheeks. How many times had I cried over Blake ignoring me? Now he was paying attention, and I didn’t know why.

  I wiped the evidence of my crying from my face and made my way back to the parking lot. When Andy asked if anything was wrong, I just smiled at him and said my allergies were bad in late spring. It was partially true.

  * * * * *

  Blake was due to meet me in our suite a half an hour ago. I was dressed up and ready to find food, although decorum said I should at least leave the room if I had taken the time to shower and change and look nice. I was wearing a navy dress with different shades of blue flowers on it by Philip Lim and paired some aqua jewelry with it to match.

  “Ready?” Blake entered the room and held open the door for me without catching his breath.

  “I’ve been ready.” I stood up and grab my purse, too lost in thought to be more than mildly annoyed at Blake’s tardiness.

  We dined at the Twisted Oak, which had an excellent steak dish and a divine hazelnut chocolate dessert. Luckily for me, the staff were attentive and friendly, because Blake was more preoccupied than I was.

  Yet I still felt the way his hand had lingered on the small of my back as he pulled out my seat for me, and when he had rounded the car to take us inside, I could have sworn there was desire in those hooded eyes, a need that made my insides tingle and flashes of heat run along my skin.

  He interrupted a long stretch of silence after refilling our wine glasses with, “I hope you know how grateful I am that you’ve agreed to do this.”

  I gave him a small smile. “I wish I could say my motives were altruistic, Blake, but you know that they’re not.” I took another swig of dessert wine. “Just promise me that you’ll try your best to
make things right with our parents when this is all over. God knows I won’t be able to do it alone.”

  This remark must have unsettled him. “But you do trust me, don’t you, Jenna?” He scoffed at himself. “What am I saying? Of course you don’t trust me. I don’t deserve it. The point is, I need you to have confidence in me in order for this work.” He looked across the table, searching for some signal that I couldn’t give him.

  He hadn’t earned my trust yet. What I could give him was something I didn’t know that he wanted.

  Love. A family, if I was lucky and he was patient. A shot at real happiness.

  After a moment, I lifted my glass in a toast to our pact sealed with damnation. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  2

  The next day, Blake took me out, suggesting that I wear jeans. Our morning stop was Kykuit Estate, former and current Rockefeller mansion. If Sleepy Hollow was a charming diversion from the megalopolis next door, then places like Kykuit were the hidden oases in the wilderness. The architecture was Georgian, or more accurately, Colonial or Georgian Revival with a healthy dose of neoclassicism on top, our guide said. It reminded me of Pemberley Hall from renditions Pride & Prejudice, only the gardens were more complex and hilly, and the lake was further away.

  In any case, it was gorgeous, and we hadn’t even seen the interior. That was because there were still Rockefellers living inside and there was some kind of social event that had closed off most of the rooms on the tour. I felt like the exterior was well worth the admission price, however.

  “I’m not letting you reimburse me for this,” I said quietly.

  “Oh?” Blake said.

  “If I’d known about this place, I would have paid for a trip out here to see it myself.”

  Blake smiled and squeezed my hand. I resisted jumping up and down in glee.