ROMANCE: Mated to the Bear (Stepbrother Paranormal Shifter) (Threesome Taboo Romance)

by Brook, Madelin

  “Damn it,” he slowed down, nursing his horsed-up leg. “Hey!...Hey!...”

  Cupping his hands over his mouth, Alan shouted down the remainder of the corridor to the entryway. A few half-clothed party attendees began to gather around the fountain as they looked to see what the fuss was over.

  “Stop that woman! Stop her!” Through grit teeth, Alan yelled in vain to the party guests. It was no fault of theirs. After all, there were tons of women in the enormous Hart Mansion and they couldn’t begin to know who it was. Outside of the uniquely decorated porcelain masks assigned to the female guests, no one could be sure which woman he screamed for.

  Wild-eyed, Alan cursed his leg, stomped his foot and quickly limped his way to the large wooden double doors at the front entry. He hissed with each breath and cursed at Maxwell for what he did earlier to his butler. All of this could have been avoided had the butler still been working and on duty that night. Yet, there was no back up at the front door, not even the security guards. Most likely, the guards had called it a night or joined the decadence and debauchery of the evening.

  Alan flung the door wide open and was immediately greeted by the humid summer breeze from the evening. Dozens of cars still remained in the driveway and the valet server snoozed at his station on the end of the red carpet just outside the entrance.

  Bare feet and not giving a damn, Alan composed himself enough to speed walk to the gentleman. Looking around, not a soul was in sight outside of slumbering worker at his valet station.

  “Hey,” Alan gently called to the man. The valet steward didn’t respond. “Hey, sir?!”

  The valet attendant, spooked awake by Alan’s sudden cry, jumped enough to lose his red cap. He was an older man with reading spectacles hugging the tip of his nose. Immediately, the aged gentleman smacked his lips together and wiped away a bit of drool from the corner of his Fu Manchu mustache.

  “What-what…” The old valet attendant glared at Alan. “What’s all the yelling about?!”

  “Listen, there was a young...” Alan stopped, breathed deeply and bit down on a knuckle as the strained leg tightened to a new extreme. The pain was enough to take the wind out of him. Rather than try to get information about where the masked woman ran off to, Alan reached into his left pants pocket and pulled out his ticket.

  “Here,” Alan handed the man the number for his car. “Look, I don’t have much time. I had to go, like, thirty seconds ago…”

  The old man snatched the ticket from Alan’s hand, tipped his head back and peered through his reading spectacles. Though the man looked experienced at life, he certainly wasn’t very good at his job. Alan staggered over to the man and looked over his shoulder to read him the number.

  The aging valet peered over his shoulder at Alan and sneered at him.

  “Do you mind? I can do my own job, thank you…” the valet sulked back toward his booth, fumbled for his keys and opened the lock box with all the car keys.

  Damn it, come on! Alan impatiently jittered in place. He figured that if he could jump in his car, he could chase after the nearest car and hope that it was his woman.

  “Oh, shit,” the old man mumbled as he knocked an entire rack of keys to the ground. The clanging of metal raining to the pavement was enough to make Alan’s heart sink. There was no way the sleepy valet would find his key right away. And, he didn’t dare help him for fear of the old man’s fury.

  Defeated, Alan placed his hands on his hips and tossed his head back. The clear night sky gave way to slight sparkles of stars. Had the driveway lights been turned out, Alan could’ve easily laid on the fluffy green lawn and snoozed till morning. At this point, Alan just didn’t care. The masked woman was long gone and now he had the night alone with a slightly grumpy old man fumbling for keys scattered all over the ground at his valet station.

  He knew it wasn’t this poor gentleman’s fault and rather than inadvertently creating another scene like earlier, Alan chose to step forward and drop to one knee.

  “Here, can I help out?” Alan grabbed a few sets of keys and handed them to the valet.

  “Oh, thanks, I’ve got it, kid,” the man looked up and flashed a smile to Alan. It was enough to break the somber mood that settled in Alan.

  “Hey, I’m Alan Fetzer. I’m a good friend of Maxwell’s.” Alan offered his hand to the gentleman and was met with a blank stare.

  “Kid, I saw some things tonight that make me believe I shouldn’t be shaking anyone’s hand without wearing a set of latex gloves.” Alan smirked nervously back to the man and shook his head in agreement.

  “Yeah, I guess I could understand that…” Alan muttered to himself.

  The elderly man slowly rose to his feet and grabbed a small plastic container with tips. He handed it down to Alan, who grew a little confused.

  Alan was far beyond needing a few extra bucks these days and he knew that this man’s gig as a valet attendant couldn’t pay very much. Very kindly, Alan waved the old man’s offer away.

  “Well, I thought you said you’d help me?!” The old man stated. “Oh, shit…”

  Realizing that his entire night’s worth of tips was in the container, the aged valet emptied the cash onto the counter top. Not a bit of change came spilling out, as the twenties, fifties and hundreds littered his station. Alan rethought how badly off this man was after all. This valet gig probably netted him a couple thousand for a night’s work and whatever the contracted company paid him per hour.

  “There now,” he handed the empty container to Alan.

  He held the plastic box with a firm grasp and they both made eye contact. Alan found himself in yet another awkward moment. What now?! Alan thought.

  “My name’s Earl Goodman,” the old man shook the plastic.

  Fair enough, thought Alan. “Thanks.”

  After cleaning up and re-racking all the keys into spots that Earl guessed were correct, Alan stepped back and looked up again at the open night sky. He inhaled deeply. Sweat dripped down his face and trickled down his back. Alan wiped the perspiration from his midsection and delicately rubbed the moisture on his pants.

  Earl shuffled off into the dark among all the rows of cars. The soft hum of an engine broke the quiet. Within seconds, Earl pulled up in Alan’s prized two-toned Audi R8. The door swung open and Earl bounced out of the car and onto his feet. Surveying Alan from head to toe, Earl shifted to one hip and pulled the reading glasses from his nose.

  “Kid, you ain’t got shoes on,” Earl chuckled. “Of course, what I’ve seen so far, you’re probably the best-dressed person leaving this evening. Anyone that came through earlier hardly had a stitch of clothes on. Here…” Alan politely chuckled and sat down in his front seat.

  Alan never bothered to turn back for the remainder of his clothes. Instead, he opted to head home and sort out all this mess later in the week. He was sure that his best friend and host of the masquerade ball, Maxwell, would know who he was looking for. Of course, it was hard telling what Maxwell knew these days since he had so many people doing his work for him. In fact, it’d be no surprise to Alan if most of the guests were complete strangers who received random invitations in the mail. And the few men that were invited were probably friends just like Alan.

  Alan was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hardly noticed his driveway as he passed it by. Making a quick turnaround in his neighbor’s driveway, Alan sped into his long entrance and up to his front door.

  No butlers here and no servants on call for Alan. He was a simple man and only needed a few things in his life. Friends, family and his fortune…but now, he was beginning to believe there’d be one additional need on that list—a female companion. His days were growing lonelier and his heart heavier. The one hope to fulfill that fourth need seemed to be the masked woman from the masquerade ball.

  Sleep would have to come first and then he’d sort things out. Thankfully, his kid stepsister was coming in the afternoon. Maybe she could bring more life into this empty mansion. But, again, in the meantim
e—sleep.

  As soon as Alan plopped onto the duvet covering his circular California King bed, he drifted into slumber.

  Chapter 2

  Just a week before running shoeless after a masked woman, Alan was driving with the top down to his cherry red 1969 Corvette Stingray. He’d received this car as a parting thank you gift from his old employers at the real estate firm in Dallas. Alan had worked his ass off for the first few years with the company and he brought in the most money out of any of the brokers at the office. He was a student of the game and had the riches to prove it.

  After Alan had stricken his first deal on his twentieth birthday, his success exploded. Once he knew how to broker the deals and leverage his money, Alan spent time acquiring properties. He’d either flip them for a quick profit or manage them for long-term residuals. Within his first two years of working in real estate, Alan was a millionaire.

  Then, he built a partnership with another young budding entrepreneur, Maxwell Hart, and the two became a force to be reckoned with. They sent scouts to various towns throughout the United States and picked up hundreds of foreclosed businesses, industrial properties, and trailer park lots. Their business was booming after two years of head-to-the-grind hard work.

  Maxwell really didn’t need the extra income. He was the heir to a wealthy family estate. When his parents died in a freak helicopter accident, Maxwell became affluent beyond his dreams. Real estate was just an outlet for him and a place that he could make friends. Sadly, the young 27-year old billionaire wasn’t much of a people person and he had few friends. Naturally, Maxwell gravitated toward Alan’s sweet nature and positive spirit. Alan could handle Maxwell’s abrasive personality and at least justified the relationship as a good business decision.

  On the way to an abandoned industrial park that he was interested in buying, Alan’s phone chimed through the car speakers. The sudden interruption jarred Alan from his thoughts.

  “Hey, Al!” Maxwell cheerfully called into the receiver. “What do you have going on this afternoon? Any plans?”

  “Well, I gotta…”

  “Cool, well, why don’t you pop by real quick? I have some news you’re going to love. And…” Maxwell continued to excitedly blurt out everything on his mind.

  “Max, Max, Max!” Alan shouted back. Sometimes it took a little forcefulness for Maxwell to stop and listen. “Hey, buddy, I’m headed out to that lot on the east side right now. I’ve got some money left over from our last closing, so I’m thinking…”

  “Dude, screw that property, it isn’t going anywhere,” Maxwell yelled back. “Now get your ass over!”

  Alan took a deep breath, held it in and slowly sighed.

  “Okay, give me a minute...”

  “You’re coming here right?” Maxwell grew agitated.

  “Look, it won’t take a minute, just let me…”

  “Dude, fuck that property, let me send out our interns. They’ll handle the shit—take pictures, measurements, scare out any hobos and squatters. We’re good. Seriously, I’ll make it worth your time.”

  Alan took another deep breath, rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin and decided to give in.

  “Alright, I’ll be over. And, Max?”

  “Yeah, baby boy?”

  “I don’t need the interns screwing this up. Let me check it out later, okay?”

  “Not a problem. Hey?” his friend’s tone grew serious.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you, bro.”

  Alan smiled and nodded his head. “Likewise, see you in a few.”

  Despite his workaholic nature, Alan had to deny his obsessive compulsion so that he could see what Maxwell so badly needed. His friend was never one for carrying a conversation on the phone and always opted for meeting at his house when he needed something. Maxwell was used to getting his way as an only child of a wealthy couple. He inherited his family estate right when he turned 18 years old, so he was a bit socially awkward.

  Usually when Maxwell wanted something, Alan was quick to cave and answer to his demands. The friendship had its good times yet the business relationship far exceeded that connection. Maxwell was a shrewd real estate broker in his early days. A few real estate deals went sour. Maxwell would balk at buyers who wanted to negotiate. On one occasion, he embarrassed a haggler by showering sheets of crisp hundreds on them. The young broker told them that if they were going to screw him, he’d at least pay for it first.

  On one occasion, rather than deal with the repercussions of losing another deal, he paid a servant to go and buy the property with cash. Then, he fired the servant after the deal closed, waited for them to run out of money and paid for the tax lien to acquire the property after it defaulted.

  Alan didn’t agree with some of Maxwell’s practices, but the bottom line was that their partnership brought him more money than he ever dreamed of getting.

  The phone rang again and Alan looked to see that it was his mother contacting him. This call was a welcomed change from the last one.

  “Hey, Ma! How are you?”

  “Hey, sweetie, is now a good time?” his mother asked.

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Well…you kind of sound like you’re in a wind tunnel, are you okay?”

  “Yes, Ma, I’m fine. I’m just driving.”

  “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t be texting and driving.” She admonished him.

  He sighed, “Mom, I’m not texting. You called and it goes into my car stereo. Look, what’s up?”

  “You have a phone built into your stereo?!”

  “Mom,” he paused and rather than fight it, Alan agreed. “Yes, Mom. What’s up? Why’d you call?”

  “Your stepsister, Tiffany just graduated boarding school and is on her way home. Her father and I got a last minute invite to a four-week cruise and we need her to stay some place…” she drifted off a moment. Alan could hear her placing an order at a restaurant.

  “Mom, should I call back?”

  “No, hang on a second…” his mother continued her order.

  After a few seconds, she came back to him.

  “Okay, so we don’t really trust an 18-year old on her own since she’s probably got raging hormones and too much time on her hands. We figured that maybe she’d get into less trouble out at your place.”

  It was hard for Alan to say no to anyone, let alone his mother. He loved his family and couldn’t find any reason that his little stepsister should not stay at his place. After all, his mansion was practically untouched and rather isolated on the outskirts of town.

  “Yeah, Ma, no problem. Do you need me to send a taxi for her?”

  “Oh, no, honey. She’ll probably drive straight from school up to your place. It’ll save a lot of back and forth.” A food order was called in the background.

  “Well, okay, honey. I appreciate it; I have to let you go. My lunch is ready. I love you!”

  “I love you to Ma.”

  “Alright, sweetie, buh-bye.”

  Alan recalled his sweet little stepsister Tiffany. The last time he saw her was before he moved away from home. She was only 12 years old, had blond pigtails and was a rail-thin little kid. Tiffany proved to be a handful for Alan’s mother and stepfather, so they kindly asked Alan for a little help. The last two years of school, they wanted her to go to a boarding school because their marriage was in upheaval. Rather than bring the adolescent in between their marital disputes, they thought it’d be best for to get her education, room and board away from them. With her away at boarding school, they could work without interruption on their marriage.

  Having no issue with money, Alan willingly paid for his kid stepsister’s boarding costs. It was an expense that he felt was worth it, especially if it could save his parent’s marriage. And, thankfully, his parent’s relationship was on an upswing of late. Considering the two were going on a month-long cruise, they had to at least tolerate one another.

  Pulling into the red brick driveway of Maxwell Hart’s property, Alan
slowed to a stop, and then pressed the gate button. Alan waved at the surveillance camera on the twelve-foot high privacy fence. A buzzer sounded and the gates parted for him to pull up to the house.

  An older, tall gentleman dressed in a black and gray tuxedo with a black top hat came down the steps from the front of the mansion. As Alan parked his car, the gentleman knelt down slightly to open the door.

  “Hey, I’m here to see Max,” Alan looked up at the tall man. This guy was a new addition. Maxwell had servants and a head butler, but he never kept workers around for long. If he grew bored of a worker, he’d just fire them. “You must be new here, I’m Alan.”

  “Would you like me to park your car in the garage, sir?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just see myself to Max. Thanks, though.” Alan shut his car door and raced up the steps.

  The man gingerly shouted something to Alan, but he couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. All that Alan wanted to do was get this meeting out of the way so he could have some chance of catching the property before sundown. Alan figured if he left Maxwell’s in the next thirty minutes, he’d make it there by about 5:30 pm. That’d give him at least another hour of sunlight.

  Alan was familiar with Maxwell’s enormous home and zigzagged through corridors and courtyards before he came to the west wing that Max spent most of his time. Approaching the office door, he stopped and heard heavy breathing following behind him. He turned to see the butler power-walking to catch up with him.

  “Sir, sir?” the older man called. “Allow me.”

  “No, I’m good,” Alan briefly knocked then opened the door. “Hey, what’s up, Max?”

  Maxwell was seated at his desk without a shirt on, showcasing his tattoo-covered body. He had his head resting on his hands and elbows firmly planted on his desk. The young heir had a slightly disheveled appearance with his dark brown bangs dangling in his eyes. He looked up and a brief look of shock crossed his face.