Stepbrother Fighter: A Love in Steps Standalone Novel

by Rachel Angel

  “I know, and it’s sweet of you to offer, but I have the means to do these things myself, too. I want to make it on my own, not on my father’s coattails or my hot, sexy boyfriend’s.”

  “Is that all I am to you?” Pedro asked, pretending to be offended.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” I answered back playfully.

  “Well then, far be it for me to disappoint,” he said.

  And that was all it took to distract him once again, focusing on me in a purely physical way. This was bliss.

  Chapter 11

  The week before leaving for Vegas was so hectic and fast paced that I thought I was never going to get anything done. Long days and eventful nights led to a very tired me. The circles under my eyes were crazy dark, making me thankful for my Clé de Peau Beauté Concealer that made it look like I’d been sleeping a solid eight hours every night. Because I certainly hadn’t. I was surprised to be a bit stressed and anxious about this, never feeling like I had it under control. It was almost like there was some undercurrent brewing that I couldn’t sense, making me like a dog that paces around when a storm’s coming, but you can’t quite figure it out until the storm is there, plain as day, outside your window.

  Pedro had dropped me off at the airport that morning, insisting that he’d do it instead of me taking a taxi. Of course, him staying overnight with me was part of the criteria and I almost felt like I was a piece of the Savannah, him the king of the jungle trying to mark his territory. He was definitely edgy and overcompensated for it by being so attentive to my sexual needs that I was actually drained dry by the time I finally drifted off to sleep at midnight. Now, it was 7 AM and I had a large latte in hand and was waiting to board my flight, thankful for the First Class airfare and that I’d get some privacy.

  My modeling career had always gotten me noticed, but it was easier to be incognito with that than it was with my sports reporting career. More people knew who I was now and as I was sitting there in the terminal, waiting for the First Class boarding call, wishing that I was sitting in the VIP lounge. But honestly, I was so tired that it just hadn’t crossed my mind that morning.

  Glancing over to my right, I saw a group of several young men glancing at me. They were dressed in business suits and pointing, giving knowing whispers. It wasn’t a huge deal to be recognized and I was genuinely flattered by people’s acknowledgement, but I really hadn’t grown comfortable with people thinking they could approach me whenever they wanted to and manipulate my space. That part took a bit of control and I had to check my patience. I was naturally mellow despite being aggressive in my pursuits; however, with this day and age of technology I didn’t want to become a story like the one of the woman reporter for another sports network getting all nasty to this woman working a tollbooth. Whoever’s fault it truly was didn’t matter in those situations; it was the one who was well known that looked bad.

  “Excuse me, will you sign this for me,” someone asked.

  The voice wasn’t what I expected it would be and I turned my head quickly, staring at who was talking to me. Oh my gosh! It was a sweet little girl, maybe eight years old. She had blonde hair pulled in a high ponytail and big green eyes. She was adorable. I immediately wondered if this was for her, or someone else really.

  “Of course,” I said. “Who should I make this out to?”

  “My name is Brooke,” she said confidently, staring me right in the eyes and smiling.

  I grabbed what she was holding, a newspaper with a picture of me interviewing USC’s quarterback on it, and smiled. “Do you like sports?”

  “I would love to be a broadcaster like you. I think it looks really cool,” she said.

  I wrote out Brooke’s autograph and then handed her the newspaper. “It’s a lot of work. Do you like to work hard?”

  “Yeah, if it’s something fun,” Brooke replied.

  “Well, it is, for me, anyway,” I said.

  “Are you going somewhere for work right now?” she asked.

  “In fact, I am. I’m on my way to Vegas to cover the MMA circuit. Do you know what that is?” I asked.

  Brooke furrowed her pale blonde brows and said, “That fighting thing, right?”

  “Basically,” I replied.

  “I’ve seen commercials, but my mom won’t let me watch it,” she replied honestly.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. She was like a bit burst of sunshine in my morning, energizing me and reminding me of the good things that came along with the #Beauty.

  Then the airline worker that was behind the desk at the front of my terminal made the announcement that I could board the plane. “Well Brooke, it’s been wonderful talking with you. I’ve got to go now.”

  “Okay, thanks. You really are pretty, you know,” she said in a sweet, completely honest way.

  “Aw thanks, and so are you,” I said.

  Then her mother called for her and she said. “I’ve got to go. Bye.”

  I watched her for a second, seeing her go over to her mother’s arms and talking expressively. It made me miss having a mother to do something like that with. Maybe that’s why I liked sports so much. I’d grown up in basically a man’s world; only a father as a parent figure and only having a forced connection with girls that came from boarding school. That meant lots of acquaintances, but few genuine friends.

  Once I sat down in my seat, I hoped that it would be a small first class flight so I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone next to me. I loved sitting by the window and looking out into the vast world below me. It relaxed me and often allowed me to drift into some of my best ideas—my on-the-go meditation sanctuary.

  “Wow, Ana Cartier, right?” someone said, standing over me and handing their bag to the stewardess who was right next to him.

  Sometimes when I first heard that name I didn’t even recognize that it was me. It was my professional name, one that was easier to remember and spell based on what my agent told me. At first, I’d protested it, but now I saw that it was a good, strategic move professionally. But some day, if I ever got married, I wanted to be Mrs. Anabelle whoever.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  “Great luck for me. I’m sitting next to you on this big tin bird,” he said.

  What the hell? Please, no, I thought.

  “I see,” I said.

  Then I was quiet, pulling out my tablet to start reviewing some notes, sending the signal that I was not available for chit-chat of any sort.

  “My name is David,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, barely making eye contact with him.

  “What are you reading?” he asked.

  “Doing some work,” I answered.

  “Oh, on your way to an assignment?” he asked.

  This time I looked at him. “Yes, I am, but I really have a lot to do, so if you don’t mind…”

  “Got it, silence,” he said. He pretended to zip his lip shut and then kept looking at me with his mouth closed, lusty eyes still highly visible.

  I turned back to my tablet. I hadn’t felt like looking at it at all, because I already knew all the information on there, but this jerk had forced me to. Yes, I already had assessed him as a jerk because he didn’t care how deliberate he was, actually thinking that I would be drawn to that type of thing. Why did some guys think that way? That was one thing Pedro did not; of course, Pedro was built like a Latin god, if there ever was such a thing.

  Finally, the flight landed.

  The stewardess handed me my small bag and I thanked her, squeezing past David, who wasn’t willing to move all that far away from me, forcing me to brush against him. That’s all you’re ever going to get, I thought. Enjoy it while you can.

  I walked away and off the plane, heading down the small temporary hallway that led to the airport terminals. I could hear the dings of the slot machines going off, people getting one last fix of gambling before they left. I had yet to ever pull the handle of a slot machine in my life, not finding anything exciting about gambling whatsoever. Well, a
lmost all gambling. I didn’t mind betting on sports so much because I could apply logic to it, and not just hope that the odds were going to go my way based on the pulling down of a germ-laden knob in a smoky casino.

  Feeling the need to be a bit more undercover, I put on my sunglasses and stood in the corner of a more crowded area of the luggage carousel, waiting for the familiar look of my Louis Vuitton luggage to show itself so I could grab my bags, get a steward, and make my way to the taxi stand.

  There was one of the bags. I snuck in between two elderly couples and grabbed at the small suitcase, lifting it off of the carousel with an aggressive tug. Its wheel was caught on something. I took an unexpected step back and felt a hand go over mine.

  “What type of guy would I be to let you get those? Let me do that for you,” David said, grabbing my luggage from me.

  “I’m perfectly capable, thanks,” I said, showing a bit of hostility.

  “A firecracker, gotta like that,” he commented.

  “A serious one,” I said. “Really, I can handle it, thanks.”

  “What’s wrong with a guy offering to help a beautiful woman out?” he said, his voice growing louder.

  “Nothing if she asks for it,” I said, “but really, I am fine. You’d better look out for your own luggage.”

  “One carry on,” he said.

  Damn, I thought. He was not walking away. Why wasn’t he walking away? Now people were starting to look at us with curiosity, whether it was from recognizing me or wondering what would happen with the awkward scene. I didn’t know, but it had me edgy and annoyed.

  “I’ll get you to your cab, Beauty, don’t worry.”

  The nickname! Ugh!

  “Please, I’ve got it,” I said. I had about one more polite sentence left in me.

  Then I saw a large hand go on David’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around. I didn’t even pay attention to the obnoxious David because I was shocked at who it was.

  Ian!

  Ian? I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  “Ian, hi,” I said, walking right up to him and hugging him.

  “Hey there,” he said, hugging me back.

  “Oh, okay then,” the guy said and then he walked away, not taking his eyes off Ian. I didn’t blame him, either. Ian was more muscular and tough looking than he was last time I’d seen him—a bit more of an edginess in his appearance that made him incredibly hot. He looked like a rebel and in an instant, I wanted him to convince me to rebel right along with him. Still responding to him after all these years—wow!

  “This is becoming a habit,” he said with a smile on his face.

  “What?” I asked, letting go of him.

  “Meeting at airport carousels every time we see each other.”

  At least this time it wasn’t because I was hitting on my stepbrother, I thought.

  Chapter 12

  “Oh my gosh, Anabelle, what’s happening? It’s great to see you,” Ian said, giving me another hug. It was friendly, but not as enthusiastic feeling as the way I felt about seeing him standing there in front of me after all these years, not to mention what we’d gone through. Wow…the last time we’d seen each other, it had been the onslaught of a lot of ugliness to keep us from even talking with each other, mostly from his mother, but she was persuasive enough that it hadn’t been worth it to try and fight her. I always wondered if that had been a mistake, but when you’re really young, there’s too much going on and focusing on things like what we were dealing with was an option I really didn’t want. Ian likely didn’t either, if I knew him at all, which I used to.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, Ian. You’ve got to fill me in. Are you a doctor now?” I asked.

  “No, that dream sort of fell through,” he said, a flash if annoyance crossing his eyes.

  I felt bad about asking it. I had good intentions, but it was clearly a bad topic.

  “And how about you?” he asked, trying to sound more cheerful. “Fill me on the past…what is it, six years?”

  “About that,” I said, shaking my head. So much had happened since I’d seen Ian last, naked and in his arms nonetheless. “I’ve been busy; chose to go and study in England for college and my Masters Degree, just wanting a break from everything that was happening here in the States. It was just too much and I wanted to jumpstart my life, regain my focus.”

  “I wouldn’t be shocked if my mother was a part of that craziness,” he said.

  Just then, a steward came up to me and said. “Do you need assistance, ma’am?”

  “Yes, please,” I said.

  “No,” Ian said. “I’ll take those for you.” He handed the guy a tip anyway, very aware that he’d taken money from him by saying that. The gesture was effortless on his end, not meant to impress me, although I found it impressive.

  We began to walk toward the cab area. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “I just got back from New York City for a few days,” he said.

  “Do you live here?” I asked.

  “I do,” he answered. His answers were short and curt, almost like he was distracted.

  “Would you like to go for a cup of coffee or anything?” I asked, filled with hope. My new temporary home could wait, after all.

  “I’ll share a cab ride with you, but I’m on a tight schedule so that won’t work,” he said. “How about you? Visiting.”

  “For six months,” I said. “Work assignment.”

  “Ever make it to the sports scene?” he asked.

  I’ll admit it. That stung me that he didn’t know I had in fact made a name for myself—somewhat—as a sports reporter. The one person I’d like to get acknowledged by about it all knew nothing about it. “Yes,” I answered, returning the shorter, curter answer.

  “So, what are you doing now, that you’re not in medicine?” I asked. I might as well ask and bring out my reporter skills, because I was very curious to know.

  “Well, my heart still would like to be in medicine, but it didn’t work out. Mother made sure of that,” he said bitterly.

  I didn’t really understand. “Is she doing well?”

  “She still thinks she is the queen, but lives on a pauper’s salary,” he replied, laughing a bit, but it was more of an evil laugh, not one of those “it is what it is” type laughs.

  “That’s too bad,” I said. I genuinely meant it, too. I’d gotten over my grudge I had against her a long time ago, realizing it wasn’t really me, but her relationship with my dad.

  “Yeah, when she couldn’t find a replacement husband from your dad, she took all of the money she had and invested it in some beauty company in the Caribbean. Well, it went belly up and was a bad deal. They played her vanity and they won. She couldn’t even afford a facelift right now if she wanted one.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I said, “That’s horrible, Ian.”

  “I take care of her now, just enough that she’s comfortable, but not so much that she can be frivolous with it. I think she’d like a refund on her prep school tuition,” he said, laughing a bit more joyfully this time.

  This entire conversation took place while we walked to the cab station. Once we were in the cab, we kept chatting away, but I surrendered to make it more casual. He seemed really distracted and a bit angry; it was a bit sexy, but it was also overwhelming to me because he was so different from the guy I’d seen last.

  He even had tattoos, some intricate tribal band halfway up his bulging, more muscular than ever, arm. And a new scar. It was just below his right ear and I looked at it, thinking of what story it might have behind it. If I ever ran across someone with a scar like that for work, one that reminded me of a sword, I’d definitely ask them about it.

  Then the cab pulled up in front of where I’d be staying. I glanced out, impressed with the tall building, but then looked at Ian.

  “Would you like to come over tonight?” I asked. “We could order out and catch up on everything that’s been going on in our lives. My crazy schedule really doesn’t start u
ntil tomorrow.”

  “Sorry, can’t,” he said. “Tight schedule, not a lot of leeway, especially for food.”

  What did that mean? I wondered. “Well, okay then. It was great seeing you,” I said. I quickly wrote down my address and handed it to him. “If you ever want to…” Then I slid out of the cab and a doorman from the high rise came over to get my luggage from the trunk.

  Ian unrolled the back window. “Take care, Anabelle.”

  “Yeah, you too,” I said. I walked into the high rise, realizing that Ian hadn’t even offered his telephone number. Had he carried on the grudge his mother had against me? It sure felt like it.

  My first hour in Vegas had been emotionally tumultuous, bringing to life things I really didn’t have time to dwell upon. And I also felt a bit embarrassed at my own internal thoughts, which seemed to think that Ian should want to dwell on me and instantly gravitate toward me just because we were in the same city. It was so narcissistic.

  Chapter 13

  I walked into a gorgeous, completely furnished high rise penthouse and thought it was so beautiful, just as gorgeous as Pedro’s condominium, even. State of the art and top of the line, something that even my father would approve of.

  Something about knowing that I would be alone that night really didn’t settle well with me and I just sighed, taking a deep breath and looking through the delivery catalogue that was sitting tidily on the glass kitchen table of my highly contemporary temporary home. I glanced through the catalog, not even certain of what I was hungry for. All that was on my mind was Ian.