Stepbrother Secret Billionaire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Mick

  Casey

  Epilogue

  Extras!

  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UKK24JU

  Contents

  Title Page

  Mick

  Casey

  Mick

  Casey

  Mick

  Casey

  Mick

  Casey

  Casey

  Epilogue

  Extras!

  STEPBROTHER

  Secret Billionaire

  STEPHANIE BROTHER

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  Copyright

  Stepbrother At Last

  © 2015 by Stephanie Brother

  First E-book Publication March 2015

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Kindle Edition

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mick

  “When you interview her, make sure she has pictures,” I said on the phone to my new paralegal. “The gorier the better. If her kid has burns all over his face, the case is a sure winner. If she doesn’t have pictures, we can’t take her as a client.” I hung up.

  “You’re a ghoul, Mick,” my best friend Jim said. He’d stopped by my office for our usual Monday lunch.

  “What? You know as well as I do that the only way to get a big verdict is to get the jury worked up.”

  “I’m just glad patent attorneys don’t have to look at pictures of burned-up kids. Let’s get out of here. Gym or lunch?”

  “Let’s do both today. I’m just waiting for an email and then we can go,” I said.

  “Why would you wait here for an email? Use your phone.”

  “I need to tell the paralegal what do before I go.”

  Jim walked over to where my walls of glass met and looked down at the river. “I don’t get why you even work at all. Buy a tropical island somewhere and retire from all this law bullshit.”

  “I did buy an island. It was boring.”

  “You should quit, Mick. Or at least slow down so you don’t have a heart attack in your thirties. You don’t need the money!”

  Nobody gets it about the money. Even Jim, whom I’d known since law school. I said, “The money is not money. The money is the score in the game.”

  “But dude, you won the game!” he laughed. “The game’s over.”

  “No, it’s not. A new game starts every morning the second I open my eyes.”

  He turned away from my view and gave me a weird look. For a minute I thought it looked like pity. But it couldn’t be that.

  I changed the subject. “What did you do over the weekend?”

  “Saturday we bought all the plants for the yard at the new house. Shannon is so cute in garden centers—she was bouncing up and down like a little kid. Sunday we spent all day in bed watching the playoffs.” He grinned. “Some of the time. The usual newlywed bliss. How was your weekend?”

  “Went out with yet another chick who had only two topics of conversation: shopping and how much money I had. I took her home right after dinner. Just worked the rest of the time.”

  “Was she hot?”

  “At first she was. Until she asked the dollar amounts of my biggest verdicts.”

  “You need to date a better class of girls,” Jim said.

  “Where the fuck are they? I look online, they seem normal, but I can tell they’ve Googled me. I can see them calculating how much alimony they’ll get in the divorce before we even order the wine.”

  “You pick them up in a Lamborghini. What do you expect?”

  I sighed. When you’re striving to make the big money, you never think it’s going to mess up your chances to find somebody. “What am I supposed to do?” I said. “Hang out in libraries? Work in a soup kitchen? There are no women in my world who don’t care that I made billions suing the tobacco companies.”

  “Oh you poor thing. This isn’t even a first world problem, it’s like beyond first world. Negative-one world.”

  “Shut up. You don’t know anybody I could ask out, do you?”

  “Huh. Let me think about it. Shannon has a lot of single friends. I’ll ask her.”

  “But listen,” I said. “Don’t tell her it’s for me. Just say Michael instead of Mick. I don’t want the girl to know about my money.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t much like the idea of lying to Shannon, you know?”

  “Yeah.” What was I thinking? That I could just pretend to be some average joe when I was dating somebody new? But what was the alternative? Keep dating girls who only cared about my bottom line? “But man,” I said, “I just want what you have. You know Shannon wants to be with the real you—which makes her certifiably insane of course. I just want the chance to find a girl who likes me, not my stock portfolio. I’m asking you, man.”

  He nodded and said, “Yeah, okay. I can see that. So, what should I tell her?”

  “Just say I’m a lawyer, I don’t want to be someone else. But say something like an environmental lawyer. Those guys don’t make that much.” I said.

  “Environmental lawyer? Yeah, that might even make a girl think you have a heart. But wait a minute, though. You’re just going to drive up in the Lambo and try to pass as an environmental lawyer?”

  “Good point, I need to buy a car.”

  “I love how you talk about buying a car like I buy a pair of socks.”

  “Maybe a Tesla. That’s what an environmentalist would drive, right?”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? They cost about a hundred grand and you have to wait months to get one. Get a Prius, dude. A used Prius. I think you’ve been rich too long.”

  Just then my email chimed, and I read the incoming message. I said to Jim, “The pacemaker manufacturer offered to settle as soon as they heard I was the attorney of record. I fucking love when that happens.”

  “Pacemaker?”

  “Yeah. Faulty pacemaker exploded in the guy’s chest.”

  Jim winced. “That’s all I need to know!”

  I got on the phone to my paralegal. “The pacemaker company wants to settle—I’m forwarding you the email. Draw up the paperwork, but quadruple the amount. I want their general counsel to need a pacemaker of his own when he sees it. I’ll look at it later. Don’t send it yet, though. Wait til tomorrow. Make them sweat a little.”

  “Jesus, you are a ghoul.”

  “How it’s done,” I said. “Let’s go. I have a feeling I can beat my speed record on the treadmill today.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Casey

  I was almost ready for my blind date when my friend Shannon arrived to give me a ride.

  “Whew, I made it inside alive!” she said, clutching the wine she’d brought to her chest theatrically.

  I hugged her. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  “Same here. My god. You look fantastic,” she said, handing me the wine bottle. “When are you meeting him?”

  “In about half an hour.” I was starting to feel nervous. I hadn’t been on a blind date—any date, really—for a long time. “Should we open this? I could use a glass.”

 
“Of course. Listen. I don’t want to sound like a mom or anything, but please get back here before dark. This is the worst neighborhood in town, and I worry about you.”

  “You do sound like a mom. I’ll be fine.” I opened the wine and got us two juice glasses. I didn’t have wine glasses yet.

  “Well—”

  “Is this dress okay?” I knew I could distract Shannon with talk of fashion. Though it was hardly a high-fashion dress.

  “It’s hot. Turn around.” I twirled for her. “Well, if he’s a normal man, he’ll want to rip it off you.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” I said, and took my first calming sip of wine.

  “No, seriously. You look absolutely amazing. Like I said last week, if I saw you on the street, I’d never recognize you. You look like a completely different person than you did before the Peace Corps.”

  “Well, that makes sense. I feel like a different person.”

  “Just, everything—your hair, the way you walk, and…how much did you lose?”

  “About sixty pounds.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Not really. When you see people who are actually starving, you’re just not in the mood for Double-Stuf Oreos anymore. Not that I could have gotten them in Ethiopia anyway.” I took my hand mirror and stood in front of the window to put on one last coat of mascara.

  “And you look…confident. So not what you used to look like.”

  “Well, thanks, I guess.” Shannon was right. I used to hope no one noticed me, poor mousy girl that I was. Short no-nonsense hair, no makeup—anything to avoid attention. That girl was still alive and well on the inside though. Especially when it came to things like a blind date.

  “No, I didn’t mean you were ugly before, Kathy, I just meant—”

  “Casey. Not Kathy anymore, remember?”

  “Casey, sorry. Why’d you change it to Casey, anyway?”

  “Eh. Kathy just didn’t suit me any more. I used my initials, K. C. Smith, and people in Africa pronounced them like a name, so I changed it. I like the sound of it.”

  “I’ll try to remember, but I’ll never forget the Kathy Smith I used to have sleepovers with. Where’d you get the dress?”

  “Thrift store. I made the skirt a lot shorter.”

  “Ugh, I don’t know how you can stand to wear other people’s clothes.”

  “You’re funny. In Africa, I would have been thrilled to have all the selection of one thrift store.”

  “So, are you still having culture shock?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I saw a little kid in a convenience store get mad and throw his sandwich on the floor. And he and his mom, they didn’t even pick it up. Where I was, no child would have ever thrown perfectly good food away, not in a million years. I started to cry when I saw it.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.” She hugged me. “Is that…normal? To react like that?”

  “From what I’ve heard, it is. I mean, I’ve only been back for two weeks. And this country is so different from Ethiopia. I’ll get used to being here again.”

  “Maybe what you need is a little romance to spice up your life, huh? And this guy is a lawyer, I know you like lawyers.”

  “I do?” I said.

  “Wasn’t the Mysterious Man From Your Past in law school?” she chanted dramatically, hand on heart. “The man who ruined you for all inferior men? The guy you would never tell me about?”

  She was laughing, but I felt my face grow hot. There was a man in my distant past, and I thought about him every day. I would never tell Shannon who he was, when we were back in college. For good reason.

  “Oh my god. I can’t believe you remember that!” I laughed too, but I don’t know how real it sounded. Shannon used to tease me unmercifully about my old crush, but I never told her that he was my stepbrother. Yeah. Don’t judge me. I was only a teenager, and he was like a god to me. My ideal. He had kind of dropped out of sight, though, and I hadn’t seen him for almost seven years. Every time I’d come home from college, I’d hope to see him, but he was never around, and spent all of the holidays with his mom’s side of the family.

  Shannon was enthusiastic. “Well anyway, this guy is an environmental lawyer, Jim says. I asked him if the guy was good-looking and he said he didn’t know.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

  Shannon was crazy about her husband, at least from what I could tell. She’d written me letters about him, and about their wedding, which I’d missed. Apparently they’d had a whirlwind courtship, from meeting to marriage in five months. For me, that would be insane, but for Shannon, maybe not. There was something perfectly lovable about her, and I had no doubt that her husband, whom I hadn’t met yet, adored her. And maybe, if she could find love so quickly, maybe I could forget about my stepbrother and open my heart to someone new, too.

  “Yeah, he told me about being an environmental lawyer on the phone. We didn’t talk long, though, so I didn’t get a good sense of what he’s like.”

  “Jim did say that he works out every day, so that’s something I guess. Where’s he taking you?”

  “Le Cirque? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Really? Wow. That’s supposed to be one of the best restaurants in town. We can never get a reservation. This guy must know somebody.”

  “Uh oh. I don’t think I’m dressed for the best restaurant in town. Not to mention…ugh. Expensive food is not exactly my thing.”

  “You’ll be fine. And, Casey, try not to be judgy about it. The guy is probably just trying to make a good first impression.”

  “I know, but…. That’s not a good sign. A guy who tries to impress women with his money? Doesn’t sound like my type.”

  “Maybe he does it because he’s nervous,” Shannon said. “Give him the benefit of the doubt! If he’s an environmental lawyer, guaranteed he cares about the planet, right? That sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

  “True. Okay. I’ll give him a chance.”

  She laughed. “The guy is wining and dining you at a gorgeous French restaurant. Try not to hate him for it.” Her face turned serious. “How are you getting home?”

  “The bus runs until ten. I’m sure I won’t be out later than that.”

  “The bus?” I thought her eyes were going to pop right out of her head. “Take a cab! For god’s sake, Kathy—”

  “Casey.”

  “Casey.” She took a breath. “It’s too dangerous to ride the bus at night into this neighborhood. I know you’ve been gone a while, but you must remember what this part of town is like.”

  “I just left a country where a border war breaks out every once in a while. I’m pretty sure I can handle an ordinary dicey neighborhood here in the U.S.of A.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Just…take a cab.” She peered into my face. “You won’t, will you?”

  “No. Think how many kids could be fed with the money a cab costs.”

  She didn’t quite roll her eyes but I could see that she wanted to. “All right, then call me. If you absolutely need a ride, I will take you home. Or better yet, out to Rosemont with Jim and me for the night.”

  “Okay, if I need a ride I will. Let’s get going so I’m not late.”

  Shannon drove me downtown, giving me first date tips and lecturing me on my dangerous neighborhood again. I know she means well, so I let it slide, but really. It’s like she’s lived in a bubble her whole life. She let me out of the car on Restaurant Row, right outside Le Cirque.

  It was a brownstone townhouse on the outside, but to step inside it was like stepping into a different world. Some walls were sheathed in red-veined marble, and others were painted a deep cinnamon color. There was a thick carpet in the same color that silenced my steps. A Baroque string quartet played softly over hidden speakers. Even the air smelled expensive.

  I gave the tuxedoed maitre d’ my name and expected to have to wait, but he bowed slightly and said, “Right this way, madam.” It was all I could do to hold in a snicker. I was more used to sitting on
a dirt floor with my African friends, eating with my fingers, scooping up doro wat with bits of flatbread.

  The maitre d’ led me past a small fountain to the back of the restaurant, where large windows had a view of a twilit courtyard. We were headed to one of the tables by a window where a man sat alone. When I got a look at him, I froze in my tracks and said, “Wait” to the maitre d’. I felt my heart start to gallop and my face start to heat up. I was able to say, “I’ll go on from here by myself.” He nodded gravely and then glided away.

  I hid myself behind a marble pillar, and peered out at the man sitting at the window table. It was Mick. My stepbrother. It was him, the man I’d thought about and yearned for every day for the last seven years. He looked older—he was thirty-two now—but if anything he looked even more attractive than he had the last time I’d seen him. But this was a cruel joke, wasn’t it? My big blind date, and it was the one man in the world I couldn’t have, the one who absolutely positively didn’t want me.

  I guessed I had to go out there and talk to him. It wouldn’t have been right to slink out of the restaurant and let him think his date had stood him up. I hoped that after all these years we could catch up on each other’s lives and not delve into anything from the past. So I took a deep breath and walked towards him.

  “Hello?” I said, sounding like an idiot, like I’d answered the phone instead of said hi to someone I knew.

  “Are you Casey?” he said, standing up. When I nodded, his face broke out in a huge smile, and he sort-of discreetly looked me up and down. “Nice to meet you, Casey,” he said, sounding like he really meant it. I drank in the sight of him, the wavy dark hair and warm brown eyes, the wide shoulders thick with muscle under a trim suit jacket. Seven years had changed him, but he was every inch the man I remembered.

  “Mick?” I said, barely able to get the word out. It was like he didn’t recognize me.

  “Yes, Mick Branson,” he said, and put his hand out for me to shake, so I just went ahead and shook it. His hand was warm and firm, and the warmth traveled right up my arm. My body, that traitor, responded to him instantly, with a wave of desire that went straight to my core. I could hardly breathe.