by Wanda Edmond
It wasn’t.
Bree Sumner rounded a mini stage topped with advanced copies of her book. Kristina’s company Syren gave Kristina open reign to entertain Bree and celebrate Bree’s bestseller. Kristina shook herself out of her haze and she plastered on a smile. She was the rep for Bree’s PR and she was not going to spoil Bree’s night, or let her own fears of forbidden sex, taint the moment. Get it together, Kristina muttered to herself.
“Hi, Krissy,” Bree Sumner tiptoed up holding a flute filled with sweet amber spumante.
Whether Kristina had feelings for her brother Ian or not, she wanted to impress her bosses at her Syren. How often did somebody as green as she was get a promotion schmooze a client? How about never, until now?
Kristina hugged Bree, and Bree saw her looking at her glass.
“It so good,” Bree said after a fast sip. “Living with my husband like I did, you’d think I’d have my fill of the stuff. All the time I was living between St. Croix and the Hamptons, and I forgot how I used to drink hardly anything except a few cocktails, and my favorite Tasmanian Rain. I’ll take the sweet bubbles instead of water bottled at the source any day. The boozy bubbles make my tummy quiver.”
Bree took another sip making Kristina giggle. Bree glanced at Kristina, and frowned.
“You know I noticed you skipping out of the pre-signing party for a spell.” Bree wrapped her arm around Kristina and she leant close. “Kristina you look a little pale. You want to tell me now? Is everything all right?”
Kristina had her mind on a lot of things that were ‘all right’. Mainly her brother who wanted her. That wasn’t the whole truth. She knew she wanted to sleep with him too.
How could she let herself do it—get with her brother, not once, but twice?
When they’d lived together back home when their single parents married, they were attracted to each other. They didn’t know what they were doing. Ian couldn’t older than eleven or twelve.
Kristina shuddered when she remembered how young she had been. How could she blame Ian? He was curious any kid about his or her age was. She was as fascinated had boy’s body’s worked as Ian. If she looked at her heart closely enough, she’d recall how excited she was to see how her brother looked too. Especially the one night they had been alone and their parents were gone. It had started to rain…
Kristina hugged herself, willing her brain to stop. That was then. They were adults now. She had to quit thinking about wanting to make love with her brother.
Bree crossed in front of Kristina. “I see you’ve got Perrier and I saw a silver chalice with iced Veen. At $23 a bottle of Finnish Konisaajo spring water, your PR now Agency Syren, must really be pulling out all the stops.”
Kristina realized Bree was thinking ahead. Bree was right. Syren was planning to make a big splash.
The PR firm was expanding into client representation, something unheard of in the Atlanta area. If Kristina wanted to be part of it, she should start thinking about what she had, and not what she dreamed could be.
Here she was, in New York City, pining after her stepbrother, and spinning her fears into worry about how he wanted one and one thing from her probably—sex.
As if their lives weren’t complicated enough. Working for Syren was a chance of a lifetime. Why should she throw all of it away and act upon her desires to sleep with Ian, whom she hadn’t seen in over six years?
Kristina checked her phone to see if she had any messages from her promotion with Syren for her stepbrother’s affections—again.
She had four messages from her brother Ian. Should she answer?
Kristina switched off her phone, thinking better of it. What was wrong with her? Why did she want what she couldn’t have?
She was thinking she was supposed to check in with her co-worker Jasmine or her boss, Elise. Jasmine was sending updates of Syren’s new client signings with parties in Bilbao, Spain, New York, and Prague. Kristina and Jasmine were reporting the highlights of the client’s adventures to Elise, as Syren continued its flagship Agency re-launch.
Who was calling her? Ian…and if she answered, she knew she would break down and agree to see him. No, she couldn’t do it. Not if she wanted to stay sane. She wasn’t going to sleep with her brother. She’d almost gotten pregnant once. When she finally did conceive, she had still been pretty much a child.
“No, everything is fine.”
Kristina tucked her smartphone behind her waist, when she saw she had a text from another friend, Finn.
Chapter 2
Ian tossed a couple of Ulysses Grants at the bartender at the bar. “Not running a tab, Mr. Knight?” The bartender said.
Ian pushed the Grants toward the bartender. “How many more years you got?”
“Three, before I hit pre-Med,” the football sized student said.
Ian shoved another bill at him.
“When you get your wife and the two-point-five kids, do me a favor. Marry for the sex, bro.”
“Love bites that much? Damn.” The bartender grinned. “I better sow some oats fast, then. Especially since Mr. S.K. is returning to Sir Harry’s.”
Ian nodded, swigged a glass of Glenfiddich scotch malt, and he frowned.
The liquid stung, but it hit his gut hard and the rush of adrenaline he felt made his ego hurt less. “Give me my cognac, Zeke.”
The bartender undergrad set a crystal bottle of his favorite Hennessy Beaute du Siecle.
Ian ignored Zeke’s raised brows.
“This stuff’s still $200K a bottle, Mr. Knight.” Zeke said.
Yeah? Getting you heart crushed by your stepsister cost him a whole lot more.
Ian nodded and he poured himself another glassful of booze.
The number Ian dialed connected to Kristina’s new phone. While plenty people thought it was impossible, he was more than capable of knowing how to ping Krissy’s Internet mail to get her private line. He was a software developer and one of the best in the world.
There were a lot of things Krissy didn’t know about Ian that she should. Something he intended to educate her about after he set his plans in motion. Right now he needed to phone a friend.
“Yeah, Mick. Ian. Who’s she’s seeing? A Finn Matthews? Got it. I’ll wire you a payment. Thanks for the stealth—.”
Ian knew his sister was trying to get over him by getting back out on the dating scene. What his baby step sis didn’t see yet was he was prepared to do anything to win her…anything.
Ian knew he was the only man for Kristina.
Kristina thought she was getting over him by running?
The connection they shared was sacred; and she would never be able to forget him, or what they have…
His baby sister remembered the vows they’d promised each other. Promises they would never be separated, or allow themselves to drift apart.
So Ian would wait...for now…
Chapter 3
Bree smiled. “The Agency isn’t about to chuck me my first stab at getting repped, is it? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“Of course it isn’t, and of course not,” Kristina assured. “Syren never bumps anyone. It promotes and it does it well.”
Bree pursed her lips. “It’s been a whirl, or a ride, if this is the end?”
Kristina wrapped her arm around Bree this time. “Hey? Where is all this coming from, Bree? You’re a best-selling author, many times over. I’ve told you. You know it.“
Kristina hovered close. “This is one of the most important nights of your life. You’re hitting number one on digital and brick and mortars, remember? And it’s only just after midnight. Don’t think anything but success, or you could psyche yourself out—.”
Bree turned her back to the guests on the ferry. She took a giant sip of sparkling wine and she winced, feeling the tangy liquor’s sting.
“Remember when I said I had a sugar daddy?”
Kristina nodded.
“He’s more than a meal ticket,” Bree whispered low. “I’ve been se
eing him for years. We met at a party like this, but eventually, after we started sleeping together…I felt, guilty.”
Kristina looked at her phone. Finn had texted again. “I know. Trying to get over someone you love is hard—.” Kristina paused. She’d almost confessed something she’d promised herself she’d take to her grave.
When she glanced at Bree Sumner, Bree seemed miles away. Kristina exhaled slightly; relieved she hadn’t said anything more about her illicit desires for her brother.
“I loved my ex-husband. I really did,” Bree said in barely a whisper. “How did I know I would end up sleeping with my brother? Some ‘affaire’, huh?” Bree covered her mouth.
She gripped Kristina’s hand, and gasped. “Krissy, you can’t tell anyone what I just told you again. Promise—.”
Kristina stared. She had forgotten hers and Bree’s conversation at the pre-signing book party. Bree’s confession sounded more shameful when she said it public.
Kristina was floored.
Memories of her and Ian rushed to her mind. His long, young body touching her immature breasts. Him sharing his love for her with the lash of his hot tongue. The wet kisses he lavished her young body with trailing his lips across her feverish skin...
Kristina reached for her phone, trying to think of anything that could distract her and Bree from sharing their forbidden desires.
Kristina sighed inwardly, thinking she’d been one step away from admitting her feelings about her brother to someone.
I would have too, if fate hadn’t been able to intervene, Kristina realized. I’ve got to find a way not to talk about my secrets.
Kristina tapped her phone and showed Bree the new stats Syren was curating from Amazon and iTunes.
“See. The numbers are rising even higher than before.”
Bree’s eyes popped wide. “Whoa.”
“A little promotion goes a long way,” Kristina smiled. As long as you kept your secrets closely guarded—and don’t you forget it,” she reminded herself.
Chapter 4
Ian swiped his Waldorf card key outside the Historic Suite.
The door clicked softly and he kicked it open slugging a mouthful of Hennessy.
His sister told him she didn’t want him.
Ian dragged a sofa out from the wall, rumpling the antique French rug replica. Something else he’d shell out another few hundred for, he figured.
Screw it. Ian slung back onto the plush seat of the sofa, and he pushed his long legs in front of him. The crystal bottle with whiskey spilled over his white pressed shirt, wetting the fabric against his hard, taut skin.
Ian looked down the front of his drenched shirt, admiring the ripples of his abdomen. He was attractive. He was six-foot and over…he had a nice body, and women told him he was well endowed.
Why didn’t she want to be with him, dammit?
Ian and his stepsister were good together. They went to the movies when they got out early sometimes after school. They played hockey, and Pokémon—and then they told everybody who would listen they didn’t play video games. They’d even stolen a couple of Playboy magazines.
He and Krissy had seen the mags when dad took them to his job’s weekend picnic. Krissy had kept watch, while Ian snuck through his dad’s co-worker’s stash.
Krissy’s mom was away at business school the whole summer. Ian palmed the glossy mags from his dad’s friend’s truck, and he hid them under his bed…
The drag of cognac Ian spilled over his chin poured over his stomach, and slicked down his slacks. He could see his hardness swelling from his desire.
He remembered he and his sister would sit in her room and look at the pictures and the reader confessions. Ian asked Kristina how she thought about him enjoying being naked. She had responded, but he could tell how her breathing had changed.
They sit in Krissy’s room reading dirty stories to each other. Kristina’s voice would get all soft and dreamy, and her skin flushed a deep red. Ian loved watching her lips sound the words love, and oral, and frottage. He’d never seen anyone look so innocent and curious about sex, like his stepsister. Being with her got him so hot every time. Ian had wanted her the moment they kissed...
Ian spread his thighs feeling his hardness press against his slacks. He rubbed his palm over his groin, thinking about the only girl he would ever want. The one woman he believed he was destined to have.
Five thumps against his hotel suite door, and he gazed up, shaking his head; his eyes were blurry.
“You really had me going down in the lobby.”
Ian saw a pair of leggy gams, and he remembered he was looking at the girl who’d raked him up and down with her hungry eyes in the lobby.
She walked past the door, her leopard mini skirt sashaying in front of him. Ian looked up from her ass and saw her peeking over her shoulder. She was still wearing that bright red lipstick. It made her look like a damned whore.
Ian flopped back down onto the antique sofa in the French era suite unsteadily while the red head followed.
“What.” Ian took a slosh of Hennessy.
“I heard you give the name of your room in the lobby,” the red head dropped her evening jacket. Her large hips swished side to side as she stood between Ian’s legs.
Ian glanced at her and he shook his head. “You’re not Kristina.” He was feeling the effects of the alcohol. He’d wanted to get stinking drunk, and his six-figure bottle of cognac was doing him proper. ‘Doing him proper’, wasn’t what he needed.
“Krissy I need you,” Ian heard himself slur.
“Krissy who?” The red head closed the door to the suite and she looked around.
“Nice digs. “You know how to live G-style,” the leggy ginger straddled Ian’s lap and she shoved her hand down his slacks.
“Ooh, you’re a big gun, aren’t you?” Ian saw the red head was young and he turned his head when she tried to kiss him. He shut his eyes as the ginger drooled wet, sloppy kisses over Ian’s neck.
Ian reached up and he unhooked the girl’s bra. He opened his eyes, gazing up at the red head’s round, pink-tipped breasts, marked with tan lines. She wasn’t pretty, or ugly…She wasn’t…Kristina.
He pushed her onto the sofa. “Get off, bitch.”
Ian staggered to the door. He flung it open wide. “Get out.”
The red head grabbed her bra and jacket. “You bastard. A-hole,” she screamed scurrying away.
Ian slammed the door and he found the room phone to dial room service. “Send up more cognac.”
***
The red head pulled on her jacket, spilling out of the elevator. She walked to the front desk to ask somebody to call her a cab. She waited, wanted to get out the place as fast as she could say, “Jerk”. She’d had her fill of self-entitled, self-absorbed, a-hole pricks for one night.
A front desk attaché leant close. “Excuse me, are you a friend of Mr. Ian Knight?”
The red head looked at the attendant. “I’m Cassie. Yeah, I was with him. What of it?”
The attaché handed Cassie a key. “Mr. Ian Knight apologizes for any inconvenience he may have caused you tonight.” The young man gave Cassie an envelope. “This is for you.”
Cassie stared at the envelope. She turned around and she peeked at the contents. Ten hundred dollar bills, and a receipt for a week’s stay, were inside. Cassie turned to the desk attendant.
“Who is this guy?”
“A residential suite is reserved in your name for the next two weeks” The attaché-attendant gave Cassie a card key.
Cassie took the key staring, open-mouthed.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Who is he? Some kind of rich dude?”
“Mr. Knight has a special relationship with the hotel,” the attaché said.
Cassie pursed her lips. “Yeah? So how much is he worth?” She said, disbelieving.
The attendant spoke a figure to Cassie and Cassie blinked.
“What…? Well, mutherfu—.”
***
; Ian slipped to the floor, scuffing his hands. He crawled to his knees laughing, his brain fogged. He took out his wallet and he rolled over onto his back. Ian stared at his photo of his Kristina.
He caressed the face in the picture, his eyes gleaming with the pain from his aching heart, and passion from his growing lust.
