My Stepbrother, the Billionaire, & the Bargain: Forbidden Romance (The Step Contract, Book 1)

by Stephanie Brother

  Nor was Mimi wrong about my meager savings. I had enough to cover either the mortgage or the utilities, but not both, and even doing one would wipe me out, literally leaving me with no money to buy food. If I didn’t sing for my supper at the anniversary party, either the lights and heat would shut off, the bank would probably put a lien on the property, I would have to give up my apartment and live illegally out of the business, or I would be dealing with some unpleasant combination of the three.

  All of which explained why on Sunday morning, I boarded the Chinatown bus at South Station for New York City. My suitcase held a week’s worth of my best outfits and a few spares. Lana’s family was going to pay for my dress to the party.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t just buy something here in Boston,” I told him on the phone, watching my home slowly fade into the highways and the green of rural Massachusetts.

  “I’m not doubting your taste,” Dad replied. “It’s just that it’s a five-star service. Lana’s parents want to have some editorial discretion over the colors and styles.”

  “You mean, step-Grandma Helen wants to dress me like a doll.”

  “She didn’t say that in quite so many words, but…”

  “Terrific,” I said with a laugh. “Just for clarification, as long as it’s not orange or yellow and doesn’t make me look over the hill, she can pick from selections I make.”

  “The budget is generous.”

  “Dad, I don’t care if she wants to buy genuine haute couture. The point is I’m not a puppet.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Message received. And honey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try to forgive Blake. I have.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ll try.”

  “Jen, he broke up with his girlfriend a few weeks ago. He might not be in the most festive of moods.”

  Was Dad an advocate for him now? “He’ll live, you know. It isn’t the first time two people have split up in the history of the human race or anything.”

  Argh. That sounded harsh, even to me. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “But I’m more disappointed I won’t see Cindy again. She was nice.” Also, she was the longest-running relationship Blake had had that I knew of.

  “I liked her, too,” Dad admitted. “But people move on.”

  Not me, I thought. I just drift, anchor-less, from one port to another. “I guess so.”

  “See you at dinner, honey.”

  “Love you, Dad.”

  Trying to concentrate on the scenery was useless after that bombshell. My mind only wanted to focus on one thing.

  Blake is single again.

  Be still, my treacherous heart, I thought. You’ve caused enough trouble already for the both of us.

  * * * * *

  It was drizzling when the bus drove through the tunnel to go into Manhattan. I took the subway to the Roosevelt and spent the requisite amount of time gawking at the opulence, as I was sure Helen and Robert, Blake’s grandparents and Lana’s parents, would want me to do. As long as it was clean and free of bedbugs, I could have cared less.

  The schedule was waiting for me on my bed when I entered the bedroom. I kicked off my shoes and scanned it quickly. I wasn’t sure if it was a family reunion or The Forsythes Spared No Expense Show.

  I reminded myself to get a grip. They weren’t the problem. My failing business was the problem. Or, more accurately, my inability to get a business loan was the problem. They were the means to a solution. If they couldn’t loan me the money, perhaps they had connections to someone who could. Besides, if they wanted to spend a mint on their relatives instead of some rodeo ranch for a change, who was I to complain?

  Great, we were meeting to got out for drinks and dinner in the lobby. “This should be interesting,” I said to myself.

  A knocking sound pulled me out of my pity party. I went to my door and opened it only to find that non one was there. The luxury hotels must have added “probably haunted” to their list of amenities and were now charging extra to frighten tourists. It was a touch of evil genius.

  But the noise continued. Turning around and retracing my steps, it happened that the full-length mirror was actually a door.

  “Psst. Jenna.”

  Shit. I knew that voice.

  “Jenna.”

  “Blake?”

  There went any chance of fantasizing about him in my shower. He was likely to overhear.

  “Can you open the door?”

  I looked at myself in the mirror. “Hmm. I don’t think so. Your voice carries quite well from where you are.”

  Silence. Was he still there?

  Finally, “We need to talk.”

  This was completely out of character. He was actually seeking me out to talk. It couldn’t be good, whatever it was. “I’m exhausted from traveling, Blake, and I still need to shower and change before the family meets up for dinner. Can’t it wait ‘till then?”

  His frustration was almost palpable through the door, and I secretly reveled in it. “Fine. But I’m driving you to the restaurant. Be ready at seven.”

  Awfully demanding of him, I thought. “Really, Blake, it’s not necessary. The Juni is only a couple of stops away or a fifteen minute walk. I’d prefer to just take the T. Subway. Metro. Whatever New Yorkers call it. Blake. Blake? Hello?”

  The sound of his outside door slamming further down the hall was my only answer.

  Really?

  I seriously considered chasing after him and telling Mr. Alpha Male where he could shove his chauffeured ride, but in the end, it was too much trouble. Instead, I undressed while nibbling on a bit of a protein bar and hung up my dinner outfit, a lilac chiffon cocktail dress and a black wrap, complete with a pair of lavender “dainty dramaturges” from ModCloth, because their heels were awesome. It was a legitimately expensive look with a touch of gothic. I gave myself an imaginary bronze star for effort.

  A couple of hours of lounging, reading, makeup application and hair drying later, I changed to an evening purse and left my room. The heels were comfy. The problem was that I almost never wore heels and hadn’t had a chance to break them in. It was going to be a long, painful walk to Juni.

  Blake had said 7:00 p.m. I would be leaving at 6:45.

  Take that, mercurial and demanding step-sibling.

  Only I wasn’t half as clever as I thought I was. He was waiting for me outside of the hotel at the main entrance, talking with a valet. More accurately, he was arguing with the younger man very politely.

  “Sir, you’ve been here for over 20 minutes. We have a policy not to allow guests to wait longer than five minutes in the circle,” the nervous valet was saying.

  “I cleared it with the manager in the lobby ahead of time, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Blake insisted. “I’m waiting for a member of the Forsythe anniversary party.”

  “No one told me,” the man said, clearly agitated while hesitant to start a fight with a guest, but also afraid of facing discipline by his employer. “I’ll have to check with the new shift manager at the front desk—”

  Blake saw me. Damn it.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Blake told the man. “She’s here.”

  “Jenna.” He nodded at me, giving me a once-over.

  Was he… checking me out? I had to be imagining things. Blake looked like he was about to say something, but he thought better of it and turned toward his car instead.

  To think, I had my entire adult life to look forward to, and it would be filled with awkward, self-doubting moments like these. Fantastic.

  He drove a frosted silver Porsche, probably a custom color. At least it wasn’t a Ferrari or something.

  Blake opened the passenger side door for me. I tried not to hobble over to him.

  “You’re early,” I said.

  “So are you.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew why. I should have used the service exit.

  I sighed and got in.

  Dad and Lana owned a Chrysler. It was roomy and functional. This, o
n the other hand, was really, really nice. I hated him even more.

  “Like I tried to tell you through the door,” I said, pulling down the visor to access the mirror, “We’re only 12 or so blocks from the restaurant.”

  Blake merged into traffic. “And you were going to try to walk the whole way in those heels.”

  “I’m a woman. We live for painful fashion.” My makeup was perfect. Go me!

  He rolled his eyes. “Jenna, you were practically limping, and you hadn’t even left the hotel.”

  “So what? I normally wear flats.” I huffed and crossed my arms.

  Blake should his head and continued west.

  “Where are you going? Juni’s the other way!”

  He sighed. “You can’t turn left onto 5th Avenue. We’re going up Avenue of the Americas to 48th, then back down.”

  I was officially an idiot. Also not a native New Yorker.

  “Okay,” I said. “You wanted to talk, so talk. Unless your goal was to school me on driving in Manhattan, in which case, well done.”

  Blake gave me a sidelong look, then reverted his eyes back to the road. “I have a business offer for you.”

  He couldn’t have come from more out of left field if he had rushed a Little League shortstop.

  Why would a billionaire who didn’t like speaking to me, much less being in my presence for long periods of time, want my help in the business world? I was a bookshop owner and in arrears, although he didn’t know that last bit. What possible advantage could he have in partnering with me on anything? “Sorry?”

  “Jenna, I know the bookstore is in trouble.”

  My first reaction was denial. I wasn’t making deals with him unless I absolutely had to. “We’re doing fine.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “And how would you know that, Blake?” Had he been spying on me?

  “I have connections in Boston.”

  He had been spying on me. He didn’t even try to deny it. Asshole.

  “Putting your family under surveillance is really not cool, you know. And by not cool, I mean creepy as fuck.” I didn’t know who he thought he was, but I sure as hell didn’t try to figure out his quarterly profits or anything. Sure, I had searched for him on tech blogs on occasion, but that wasn’t the same thing. God, when was this car ride going to be over? Screw the Italian leather cushions and 1200 horsepower engine and stuff!

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jenna,” Blake said. “Your entire industry has been in upheaval since the nineties.”

  Now I knew why he wanted me trapped in a moving vehicle: it would be too risky to punch him in the face and jump out into rush hour traffic. “Who said anything about shame? And for your information, I don’t need any help paying my bills, thank you.”

  “Yes, you do.” I made to respond, but he put a hand up. “Don’t deny it, just listen. I had to find someone to whom I could offer substantial compensation, and you were the first logical choice for several reasons.”

  We stopped at another light, and Blake looked at me, his expression serious. “I’m willing to pay off all of your debts and give you enough capital to keep it running for as long as you need to straighten things out, relocate, whatever, provided that you do something for me.”

  “I’m not killing anybody.”

  “Of course you’re not. Who could outrun the police in high heels?”

  He did have me there.

  “Supposing that I was in need of a quick cash infusion,” I said, and I hated myself for even continuing the conversation, “I don’t understand why you would need my help, unless it’s in identifying a first edition of Vanity Fair.”

  “You’re not the only person who could help me, but you’re by far the best person to drive home the point I’m trying to make in this deal,” Blake said. “I’ll sign a contract stipulating that you receive all of the help you need, by your definitions and specifications, and all you have to do in return is one little favor, though you’ll need to sign a nondisclosure agreement about the reason for this favor, and I admit it’s a bit controversial.”

  “You said no murder.”

  “I did.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

  I waited. “Well?” I asked. “What is this favor?”

  The light turned green. Blake revved the engine and took off. “You have to marry me.”

  My first thought was that I had misheard. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

  “I want you to marry me.”

  My ears were obviously fine. “Stop the car.”

  “Jenna, just hear me out.”

  “No. Stop the car, please.”

  “It’s not what you think, I promise.”

  “Blake, stop the car!”

  When I threatened to open the door while the Porsche was still moving, he abruptly pulled over to the side of the road, right in front of a market where workers were trying to hang a sign. I tried the door handle, but he had engaged the automatic locks. “Let me out, Blake.”

  “Not until I explain the deal.” A stocky but ripped gentleman in stained work clothes started shouting at us in a foreign language. I couldn’t make it out because the car’s interior did an excellent job of muffling outside noise, but it was likely there was a lot of swearing involved.

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Please just calm down and listen,” he said, a touch of pleading creeping into his voice.

  “Why should I?” I shouted at him, the first time I had raised my voice at him since that first day when we’d met. “First, you mock my financial situation while insisting we drive a walkable distance in your luxury car. Then, you have the gall to suggest we piss off both of our families so that you can have some piece of paper that, I don’t know, lets you adopt an orphan from China or buy a house in some gated community or whatever it is that requires you to be hitched. Never mind that for however long it would have to last and probably well beyond that, we’d be the gossip of every pond scum paparazzi with the slightest interest in tech culture who catches a whiff of scandal.” The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the idea was. “Maybe Helen and Robert are level-headed enough to keep their emotions in check, but I’m pretty certain my grandparents would die of shock. And if not shock, then shame!”

  Blake just sat there. “Are you done?”

  I leaned against the window and willed my blood pressure to return to normal. “I guess. For now.”

  Blake shifted towards me, leaning across the gap between our seats to put his hand on my back to calm me, and heaven help me, that was all I could think about. He was touching me to comfort me, but all I could focus on was his hand resting between my shoulder blades and the fact that he was touching me.

  “I don’t want to give your grandparents heart attacks,” he said, adding as an afterthought, “although I wish I could see my great-grandparents roll over in their graves.”

  “Why would you even want to do this?” I said. We hadn’t even made it to the restaurant, and I was already at my Blake limit for the day. To think I had actually wanted him to talk to me more!

  “Helen’s parents made conditions on all of the trusts and estates. You think that Helen and Robert are in control of the family money, but they’re just following the conditions put upon them when they inherited the Forsythe estate. About half of our total wealth is in their control. The other two-thirds are set aside for charity and the remaining heirs in separate set amounts for individuals, like my mother Lana.”

  “And you,” I said, trying to keep any bitterness out of my voice.

  There was nothing wrong with having money. There was something wrong with the world when one person could make so much money while the people who helped his company succeed made pennies in comparison. But my opinions were irrelevant. Blake couldn’t help the name he was born with. Neither could Lana.

  “And me.” His voice took on a hard edge. “If I don’t marry or produce an heir before I’m 35, I get nothing.” He took his hand away from me, and I d
esperately want to yank it back into place.

  “But that’s ridiculous!” I blurted out. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Hell if I know.” Blake shrugged. “There’s no reasoning with the dead.”

  Meanwhile, the angry manager had walked around to the driver’s side of the car, and his agitation seemed to have increased, if the volume of the curses being hurled at us was any indication. Blake put the signal on and pulled out, starting to drive again.

  The worker actually continued to cuss us out from the street for a good three blocks. Don’t mess with New Yorkers, especially if they look like incarnations of characters from Street Fighter.

  Then another thought occurred to me. “You’re already a billionaire, and you’ve got the better part of a decade to go before you have to marry,” I said. “Why the rush? Why do you even need the money at all?”

  “Ah, that.” Blake gave a small smile. “I’m a billionaire on paper, a millionaire in real life. Most of my money is from investments I made prior to Gabblrr’s creation, in another tech startup. Gabblrr hasn’t gone public yet. We don’t have a date for the IPO. I have my doubts—” he cut himself off before he finished his thought, as if there was information I was not supposed to know that he thought he shouldn’t tell me. “I do have reasons why it would be nice to have access to the capital from both the family trust and the inheritance money.”

  Blake thought he had said enough, because he changed tack. “All I need you to do is commit to a civil ceremony and sign the legal agreement. You can have a lawyer advise you if you want.”

  “Not all of us have attorneys on retainer, Blake.”

  “Or you can find one you like and I’ll cover the expenses.” Blake switched lanes, and as we sat waiting for a light to turn, I could see a woman stop and take a picture of his car with her cell phone. I was glad the roof was up. “In any case, the marriage would be dissolved the minute the paperwork on the trust and inheritance goes through.”