Stepbrother’s Secret

by Kane, Jessa

  My head is starting to spin. “Changes? What do you mean?”

  Mama smiles at me gently. “A new haircut, clothes. Things like that. Won’t it be nice?”

  I finger the frayed hem of my best dress, feeling another hot flash of embarrassment. Compared to the finery my mother is wearing, it’s a cleaning rag. These people are bringing me into their fold and helping me better myself. And even though I had the fireflies to keep me company in the evenings, there’s no denying how lonely I’ve been. Now I get to have a real family again. Like I used to have, before Mama left. I have people who care enough about me to swoop in on their fancy plane and make plans for my future—and I’m going to be grateful. I’m going to try really hard to be whatever they reckon I should be.

  Even if I think the current me is just fine as is. Because maybe I’m wrong.

  Maybe I haven’t learned enough to be sure.

  “Yes,” I whisper, smiling at the three of them. “That’ll be real nice.”

  * * *

  It’s still dark outside when we land. There is another limousine waiting for us on the tarmac and everyone just climbs inside, like it’s no big deal to fly around in jets and ride around in the backs of limousines all the time. We stop outside a house that makes my jaw drop into my lap, it’s so enormous. Manicured and pristine beneath the stars.

  My mother leans over and kisses my cheek. “Good night, Cate. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “You live here?” I whisper, still staring out the window, dumbstruck.

  “Yes.” She laughs quietly, but it turns into a yawn. “And I’m definitely overdue in my bed. Tristan is going to bring you to your new place, okay? I’ll be over as soon as I can to see you. You’re not alone anymore. We just have to be careful about this…transition.”

  Because they’re not ready to present me to the public.

  I nod, hoping she can’t see the pink staining my cheeks. “I know. Good night, Mama.”

  “Good night.”

  My mother and stepfather climb out of the limousine, but not before Tristan and Elton spend a few moments staring at each other, hard, as if daring the other to back down. I wonder what that’s about.

  Somehow with two less people in the back of the limousine, it seems infinitely smaller.

  Tristan is across from me, his long legs stretched out and nearly reaching mine. He sits silently, watching me with one arm laid across the back of the leather seat, his jaw bunched like he’s chewing on metal. In the darkness of the vehicle, held captive in the intensity of my stepbrother’s stare, I feel vulnerable. Exposed in my threadbare dress.

  “Are you overwhelmed, Cate?”

  His deep voice almost makes me gasp, my head aching to fall back against the seat. Just so I can close my eyes and let the gruff, cultured quality of it swallow me like a wave. “Yes,” I whisper. “I don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

  The limousine pulls out of the driveway and turns down a tree-lined avenue, silent, dotted with towering streetlamps. One of those lamps lights Tristan’s face long enough for me to see his frown. “You’ve been left to fend for yourself in a hovel and you’re worried about being a disappointment? Perhaps you should be disappointed in the adults who allowed that to happen.”

  “I am an adult,” I whisper, though I don’t know why it feels like a secret I’m passing on. “Just this past May.”

  Slowly, his fingers curl into a fist where they rest on the seat. “I see.” It takes him a moment to continue. “Still, that wasn’t always the case, was it?”

  “No. It wasn’t. But I done just fine and kept on breathing.” I study my knees a moment. When I look back up, he’s staring at them, too. Where they press tightly together, the way I watched my mother do on the plane ride. Ladylike. “Tristan?”

  Is that a shiver that passes though him? “Yes?”

  I hedge for a few seconds. “Did my mother come to get me ’cause she missed me? Or ’cause she was worried it’d hurt your career if people found out I was all alone down in the marsh?”

  A single brow raises. “She missed you.” A pause. “And it would hurt my career.”

  “So…both?”

  Tristan inclines his head, though making the admission seems to trouble him.

  I nod, accepting that information. Trying not to be conflicted over it. Of course there’s a reason they made such a big deal of collecting me fast, quietly under the cover of night. Just like there’s a reason they’re going to keep me in an apartment, teach me things and dress me up. I’m not one of them yet. But do I want to be?

  Already, I’m a little homesick for my tire swing and fireflies.

  For the creaky floorboards of my house.

  Squishy mud between my toes.

  I packed up as many of Daddy’s things as I could, but I also miss the memories of him walking through the rooms. His laughter. Even the smell of his menthol cigarettes. We were all each other had for a long time.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Cate.”

  “I know,” I say, though I’m not as confident as he sounds.

  Looking across the seat at my stepbrother, I find myself extremely curious about him. He’s so intense, so laser focused, but every once in a while, I catch him softening when he watches me. I don’t know how to feel about those too-brief slip-ups or how to read him. Does he like me or am I just a responsibility?

  My father always used to tell me I asked inappropriate questions and made people uncomfortable. Maybe it’s in his honor that I blurt, “Are you married?”

  A vein ticks in his temple. “No.”

  “Oh.” Why am I so relieved? “Why?”

  He starts to answer, stops. And begins again. “It has been suggested, mostly by my father, that I marry to further my career. Voters like to see a family unit, but I don’t want to make life decisions because they’ll look good on a billboard.” His tone thickens. “And there have been no women I’ve wanted to make time for.”

  “You’re making time for me,” I point out without thinking, immediately wishing I could cast a line and reel the words back into my mouth. “B-but I’m your stepsister, so it’s different.”

  “Yes.” His gaze bores into mine, then slowly travels down to the bodice of my dress. To the buttons that became harder to close when my breasts came in. “It’s different.”

  The limousine rolls to a stop outside a tall building. So tall I have to lean sideways and tilt my head to see the top. It seems to stretch all the way up into the clouds. “No way. Is this where I’m going to live?”

  “Yes.” Voice tight, Tristan doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door, but pushes out himself, briskly, as if escaping something. Though he does reach a hand back into the running vehicle to help me out. “Come.”

  We hold hands a few seconds longer than necessary after I’ve exited.

  Both of us look down at our joined hands and the sight of my small one in his much larger hold tickles something low in my tummy. Tristan makes a sound in his throat, gently rubbing a circle onto the small of my wrist. And I barely stop myself from sagging against him, that one small touch turning me into a beehive of sensation.

  What is going on with me?

  I shouldn’t want to hold hands with my stepbrother, should I?

  Finally, Tristan lets go and steps back, guiding me toward the building with his fingers on the small of my back. A doorman opens the glass double doors for us and we step into a black and white marble hallway with gold accents, green potted plants spaced evenly apart. My mouth is open wide enough to catch files, but I can’t believe this is where I’m going to live. I’ve read about doorman buildings in some of my books and old editions of Daddy’s Sunday paper, but I never expected to see one in real life, let alone call one my home.

  Tristan presses a button for the elevator. My first ride in one. Ever.

  I’m excited…right until I step into it. And it starts to fly up. Up. All the way to the top of this building that reaches into the clouds? Oh God. Oh God. Tha
t’s so high!

  “Cate?” I look over at my stepbrother to see him watching me with mounting concern. “Jesus, are you all right?”

  I shake my head vigorously.

  That’s how I end up in Tristan’s arms, clinging to him like I did in the glen.

  Only this time, I don’t know how I’ll ever let go.

  3

  Tristan

  Fuck.

  I stare at our reflection on the other side of the elevator. At the girl using my forearm as a seat for her impertinent backside, my opposite hand buried in her unruly blonde hair.

  Her legs hugging my waist like a lifeline.

  Trembling. The way she might after an orgasm.

  My cock has been hard since I saw Cate on the tire swing, but it begins to leak now, no longer able to withstand the pressure she creates in my balls. The goddamn dress barely covers her backside and God help me, I lift the hem a few inches, groaning silently at the tight, tanned cheeks of her ass, spread just enough to show me her light pink asshole. I drop the hem quickly before she notices, calling myself a sick bastard for taking advantage of her when she’s obviously terrified. Clinging to me for comfort, trusting me because I’m her stepbrother.

  I can’t touch her.

  Can’t turn and pin her to the wall of the elevator, hit the emergency stop button and fuck her virginal body, our relation be damned.

  How can I even consider it?

  There is a camera in this elevator. I’m already going to have to perform damage control from simply holding Cate like this. With her pussy squeezed up against my fly, all hot and sweet, no panties to cover her. She’s so inexperienced, she doesn’t even seem to register my throbbing erection or what it means, even though she certainly feels it.

  God. God, how am I going to stand this? Being near her? I should have avoided this temptation at all costs, but when my father suggested she remain in North Carolina, I couldn’t abide that, either. I need her near me. Need to care for her. Protect her.

  I turn my head and inhale the wild berry scent of her hair, barely resisting the impulse to open my mouth on her neck, get the taste of her on my tongue.

  The elevator dings and she trembles again, whimpering and tightening her hold around my neck. Man, you truly are a bastard. Instead of comforting her, I’m lusting for her young body in ways I’ve never lusted before. Didn’t even know were possible.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I say gruffly, unfurling my fist from her hair to stroke it gently. And when she relaxes a little, my heartstrings pull taut. “I should have warned you how fast it would go. I forget you haven’t been exposed to a lot of things and I apologize.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You must think I’m so silly.”

  “I could never think that.”

  The elevator doors open and I step out of the elevator, into the marble corridor. Slowly, I carry her down the hallway lined with paintings and golden sconces, counting the cameras that turn slowly to keep us in view.

  On the ride from the airport, I received a text from the realtor with the apartment number, letting me know there would be a key waiting beneath the welcome mat. But I’ll need to set down my stepsister in order to retrieve it. I’m loath to do so, even though we’re being watched, even though it’s fucked up and has already gone too far, but I linger with her in my arms, rocking her side to side, absorbing the innocent heat between her legs.

  “I have to set you down now, Cate. So I can get the key. Are you okay?”

  She nods into my neck, her legs unhooking from around my hips. With a sniff, she slides down the front of me, her eyes reflecting her curiosity when her softness drags over my erection. Thankfully, she only studies me through her eyelashes, but doesn’t ask questions. What the hell would I say? That in less than five hours, I’ve developed a deep, dark obsession with my stepsister and it’s taking further hold by the second?

  Grinding my back teeth, I open the apartment door and gesture for her to precede me inside. She does so with wide blue eyes, her hands coming up to lay flat on her cheeks. “Oh my lord.” Her steps slow. “This can’t be where I’m sleepin’.”

  If things were different, she’d be sleeping in my bed.

  I’d be fucking her in it.

  I’d never let her out.

  But things aren’t different. She’s my eighteen-year-old stepsister and a non-platonic relationship with her would tank my career. I’d never hold office again. And maybe I’m idealistic, but this is a job I believe in. I kick my ass every day of the week to make sure I keep my promises to voters. Furthermore, I take pleasure in exposing my colleagues who don’t keep theirs. Since I was young, my dream has been the White House. Several people on my team, including my father, are counting on me to make that happen. I can make a difference there. And dammit, I have more willpower than this, don’t I?

  Heart in my mouth, I watch Cate circle the apartment. She inches toward the balcony door like a kitten on a ledge, her fingers crammed against her lips. “I’ve never been up this high,” she whispers shakily.

  “I wouldn’t bring you anywhere that isn’t safe.” My voice resonates with that promise. A hunger for her trust. “You know that, don’t you, Cate?

  She looks at me and nods solemnly. As if she senses how much her answer means. “I know, Tristan.”

  The way she whispers my name like a prayer helps nothing. It’s already tattooed on my brain. I’m going to hear it in my sleep. Replaying in my head every second of the day. “The bellman will bring up your suitcase. And I’ve asked one of my assistants to leave some toiletries in the en suite bathroom. Food in the fridge.” I search the entry table for what I’m looking for, picking it up. “This is a phone with my number programmed inside, as well as your mother’s. If you need anything at all, or there’s something you don’t understand, call me. I will always pick up. Okay?”

  Cate blinks. “Are you leaving?”

  “I have to leave,” I answer, barely recognizing my ragged voice. “I’m going to have a tutor here to begin your lessons at noon tomorrow.”

  She nods, her gaze straying to the twinkling lights of Hartford stretching beyond the balcony. “How long will I have to do the lessons?

  Again, I struggle with the prospect of changing a single thing about her. But if she’s going to be a visible member of the family, I want her to be prepared. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if she was caught off guard by a question and ridiculed by the press. “Long enough to make you comfortable.”

  I was struck by her astuteness on the drive over, when she asked if her mother missed her or wanted to avoid a scandal. And I’m struck by it again when she asks, “Is it really me you want to make comfortable?” Before I can answer, she’s wandered into the bedroom and I don’t follow her there. I can’t.

  I leave the apartment feeling like my chest has been razed.

  I yank on my tie in the elevator, loosening it so I can breathe, my instincts imploring me to get back out of the elevator. Return to the apartment. Cate.

  No. Do not go back.

  Do not go back there.

  I manage to remain in place, staring at my reflection in the elevator mirror without really seeing it. Only hearing her voice in my head.

  Is it really me you want to make comfortable?

  I walk into the lobby with a gut full of bullet holes, rounding the corner to the security office without hesitation. Knocking on the door.

  A bald man in a headset answers, his expression smug.

  He looks me over, like he knew it all along. Like he knew I wasn’t the altruistic man I portray on television or in the papers. Maybe I’m not. “Hello, Governor Garner.”

  Behind him, there is a wall of monitors. Footage feeding through the cameras in the elevators, hallways, common areas. “Erase the footage,” I say through my teeth.

  He tosses a chip into his mouth. “How much?”

  My jaw strains until it comes close to snapping. And maybe I’m not altruistic at all. Maybe I’m not
smart enough to stay away from the one thing that could wreck my chances at the White House. Because against my good judgment, I say, “Here’s a better question. How much to make sure the cameras stay off whenever I’m in the building?”

  * * *

  I’m in a meeting with staffers the following afternoon when my phone rings.

  Every moment since I left Cate she has filled my thoughts, so when her tutor’s number flashes across the screen of my cell, I answer immediately, starved for a morsel of information about my stepsister. A hint at her progress. A whisper of her voice in the background. Give me anything.

  Phone pressed to my ear, I use my shoulder to push through the conference room door. “How is she do…” My question trails off when I hear a plane flying overhead on the other end of the line. People shouting. Bike bells dinging. And my breath turns to a block of ice in my throat. “Have you brought her outside?”

  “I haven’t brought her anywhere! She refuses to listen!” the harried tutor, a former university professor named Justine, complains in my ear. “She got bored with the material, so we took a break. Next thing I know, she’s running into the park barefoot, chasing a rabbit!”

  Panic ripples through me. I want her indoors, goddammit. Contained and safe. She is too pure, to magical to be just running around among normal people. They could hurt her. They could try and take her from me. She hasn’t lived with the threats of normal society and doesn’t know how to recognize them. “Get her back in the building. Now.”

  “I beg your pardon, Governor. I have not been paid to drag my student around by the hair! Oh Jesus, now she’s climbing a tree. Cate! Get down from there!”

  “Christ.” I drag a hand down my face. “You’re in the park behind the building?”

  “Yes.”

  “Try and keep her in one place. I’m on my way.”

  I don’t bother returning to the meeting to let my staff know where I’m going. The less people who know about Cate, the better, until she is ready to be formally introduced as a member of the Garner family. A group of interns watch me curiously as I cut through the carpeted hallways of the governor’s offices and push through the double doors out into the sunshine. My weekday driver is leaned up against the side of his SUV reading the paper, but one look at my face and he’s diving into the vehicle to start the engine.