GRIND: A Stepbrother Romance Read online

  My friends were so obsessed with her. They literally came to my house just so they could see her and stare at her boobs and ass. And they made their opinion of her known very often. I didn't need those thoughts in my head, especially since she slept down the hall from me. I couldn't hide the raging hard-on she would always give me just by walking down the hall in her ultra-short floral pajama shorts and tight white cotton tank tops. And sometimes she forgot to put her bra on, which was absolute hellish torture. That gave me an instant stiffy and I’d skip breakfast and have to hit the shower, all the while reminding myself that she wasn’t a blood relative.

  Her mom quickly reprimanded her, reminding her that a gentleman also shared the home with her and she needed to dress more appropriately. As much as I hated it, the robes sure did help my focus and I actually thought we'd get along quite well once the whole buffer cleared my focus.

  She made life exciting with her innocence and her unbiased view of the world. I love hearing her thoughts whenever our family engaged in family discussions around the dinner table. The south seemed to have soft edges, a way of life I’d never know personally. I found her aura fascinating, yet I hid behind my blank stares, but they were definitely feelings of curiosity and growing awe. I simply wanted to see what she had to say about the world. So many other girls were so shallow and had the depth the amount of the quarter. And I found it interesting that even in the hustle and bustle of the city, she maintained a wonder for life like an energetic kitten. She gave money to the homeless whenever she had cash and acted almost embarrassed by my family's wealth.

  A secret that we were beginning to share before the incident was the appreciation of the literary and artistic world, a surprising fact none of my buddies knew I held. I invited her to accompany me to the opening of Horseshoe, a highly acclaimed new play that was the talk of the town. With my family’s name and money, we not only had the best seats in the house, but I arranged for her to meet the cast, as well as the director and writer. She took my breath away in her gold satin dress that made headlines the next day in the society pages. Her first official appearance gracing the first page. Her mother was thrilled, and Kate turned as green as pea soup.

  It was a night of ease for most of the time and it made our parents happy as kids on Christmas. But I felt something more stirring inside and I swore she felt it, too. I was treading on dangerous waters, but leave it to my asshole friends two weeks later to fuck it all up anyway.

  My stupid friends were high and drunk and did the most fucked up thing, and I took the blame. They pulled an Erin Andrews admirer and filmed her naked in her private time in her bathroom. They uploaded the video online to some porn hub just for laughs. They also made copies for other personal reasons. I was passed out drunk at the time and woke up to a very rude, sober awakening. A moment of regret I’d never forget.

  I couldn't shake the hysterical cries I heard coming down the hallway and that was the very last thing I saw of her and then she was gone.

  She made sure to visit her mother, but only when I was away. Many of her holidays she spent it with her father’s side, just to avoid me.

  And that is how, a stepbrother and stepsister of nearly eight years go without seeing each other. But I still couldn't shake the feeling I first felt about her. Attraction, desire, lust. Remorse or no remorse, I was seriously fucked; in just a day I’d face the girl who’d haunted my dreams for almost a decade.

  Chapter 3

  KATE

  * * *

  The manor was eerily quiet with the flickering lights and heater that flirted with going on vacation, a winter break from the storm. The grand mansion felt like an icy museum. Heck, it was a museum. It held remnants of a past. Especially the long wall of fame that led to my childhood sleeping quarters.

  Dozens of magazine articles dressed the walls from many of Phillip Rainshaw’s accomplishments, as well as Bradley, his sister Claire, and of my mother who now had her own wall from her successes due to her stardom in the “Housewives” franchise. A real housewife of the Hamptons. She loved being on the show and lived for it. Another reason why living across oceans and seas suited me just fine. I didn’t want anything to do with the show. They called her jokingly the gold digger from Texas. After all, she was.

  A house with many rooms, many adventures, and now it belonged to my mother. Just like that, in a day. Oh, how a day changes everything. Speaking of a day, that’s how long it took for Mr. Phillip Rainshaw to confess his lust, I mean love, for my mother, who was an already married woman.

  I’m quite certain he saw her tight ass and big breasts with gentle eyes that would calm a lion, and it outshined the small diamond ring that rested on her left hand, and I’m rather certain she saw his black Amex card given at the upscale spa where she worked as a receptionist in the ritziest area of Dallas, a small commute from the naval base in Fort Worth, Texas.

  I stared at the oversized portrait of my mother, the cover for Entertainment Weekly so handsomely framed, paired next to the provocative article written of her that was designed to ruffle feathers, yet it was an article that did just the opposite; it made her a household name. And it was an article that hailed her the modern, golden gold digger. And she loved it, darling. “You can talk about me behind my back, but at least you’re talking about me,” was her famously quoted motto.

  Her pearls glistened across her neck like a rich treasure found in a special case under the sea. Nothing could hide her thousand-watt, Colgate-white smile framed handsomely with veneers she landed once she officially became a Rainshaw. The strings of nearly a million dollars cascaded down her new breasts, another upgrade she happily wore. That and a nose job, cheek implants. She was already a beauty in my eyes, but this money made her the best version that she saw of herself and she proudly displayed her achievements.

  Her pearly white veneers smiled a demure “fuck you, I don't care what you call me. I'm still rich, bitch.” That's what the producers loved about her on the show. She was who she was and no one could crumble her spirit or dim down her bright light. She was living her dream flying high in life, a life that no longer involved my biological father.

  My father? Well, he wasn’t dead or anything. Just busy. And overseas.

  But it wasn't always this way. They once were madly in love and the new life he had to make for himself filled with navy bases, traveling, and war. It was what he had to do because, well, I popped into the picture. Imagine that for a lifetime of guilt!

  Dad was just a southern boy from a good family she fell in love with when they were both sophomores in high school and sixteen. With raging hormones and long dusty country back roads, it's easy to see how I happened. She had a nice family she married into, maybe not rich in monetary things, but rich in values, love, and traditions I adored and greatly missed once the big changeover took place. A family that revolved around football and Sunday dinners, who had roots in the first Methodist church downtown three generations back. A family who were honest and good working people who had no plans of ever leaving the good town of Tyler, Texas.

  But mom had bigger dreams that expanded beyond the old oil town. As beauty pageant winner Miss Teen Tyler herself, she had the whole world ahead of her and the desire to be a famous model and actress was within reach by a thin few years once she received her diploma. Instead of being handed a rolled document ensuring her freedom and official stamp of approval to move west, she held another document that changed her life forever and sealed her momentary fate.

  Me. Surprise! You’re fucking pregnant!

  I don't blame her, I mean I see it all the time for a thirty-one-year-old woman to become bored and want to change her life, but cheating on my father was something I could never forgive her for. This change not only changed her life, but it drastically changed mine forever.

  Marrying my dad never fit into that plan. Neither did getting pregnant. With me.

  I was born six months after she graduated high school. My father joined the service to provide a living f
or us. For fifteen years of my life, we moved along the south to navy bases until we finally based in Forth Worth, Texas. Dad quickly grew in ranks and in frequent flyer miles to never-ending stupid wars I grew to hate.

  From serving in the war and being in Iraq half of my life, it left my mother lonely and bored.

  It took one day, one invitation to dinner after meeting Phillip, only one day, and the rest was history.

  And that's when they began their affair. The next thing I knew we were upgrading our lives and moving to live with the family that was one of the wealthiest names in the country. As in billions. And as in the guy whose son I had like a diehard crush on. As in a guy I never, ever even thought in a bazillion years I’d ever meet, much less become family!

  As uncomfortable it was for me, this role fit my mother like a glove. It only took her five years and she became famous in her own right from the hit show.

  “You're going to love your new life. Trust me. We will go shopping and you can buy all the clothes you’ve ever wanted. You can decorate your room anyway you like. I’m going to throw you the most wonderful sweet sixteen. Just wait and see.”

  My mom's entire being lit up like a Christmas tree that could be seen miles away

  She’d found her golden ticket and was completely oblivious to my shrine I had of Bradley. The very shrine my friends copied and made their own version of, of the American boy toy who covered Teen Beat and Seventeen magazine.

  My friends were insanely jealous when they discovered my new life plans and begged to come live with me in the summer in, squeal, the Hamptons. The squeal belonging to them, not me.

  The Hampton manor was the biggest house I’d ever seen and I didn't even have to clean my room anymore. This new life was a different world with me arriving to it from a middle class military family; it was like living on planet Jupiter!

  Being furious with my mother for cheating on my father and unable to live with him because he was stationed overseas, I had to move into a home with a family I knew nothing of, except that they were one of the wealthiest families in America. And oh, they had a son who just happened to be the very boy I had practically worshiped my entire eighth grade and ninth grade year.

  My only hope and diversion was to throw my head in the books.

  One thing I was actually excited about was the new elite private school I would attend. A closet secret admirer of Gossip Girl, it wasn’t the fashion that made me jealous of Blair and Serena, it was the education.

  I loved my teachers and the passion with which they taught. It made me seriously interested in studying literature, and attending an Ivy League actually seemed like a reality and not some far-off dream.

  The house was so grand and my classes so different, I hardly saw Bradley, especially since he was a junior and I a freshman. He was always getting into trouble and had to make up for his behavior with a lot of community service. Such wealth and class seemed to age him. At only seventeen, he lived more like a man in his twenties.

  And the incident happened.

  I shuddered thinking about it and shook my head again at the familiar memories. I made my way down the grand hall and past his bedroom. I peeked into the room. He still was an interesting person.

  Horrid memory, trauma or no trauma, such strikingly good looks and body stopped me in my tracks. It was the cover of People magazine framed with Bradley on the cover as voted “most beautiful.”

  I rolled my eyes. I'm sure that did wonders to his ego. I leaned in to see the date. Since I was overseas, I got to dodge the celebrity gossip magazines in the supermarket. I really had been living under a rock.

  His eyes were exotic green and alluring, whispering to its admirers to take another look, to peer further. The angular nose set off his perfectly high cheek bones.

  In his “30 Under 30” shoot for Forbes, his tailored suit and serious demeanor was a contrast to his shirtless photo.

  Butterflies danced in my stomach, mixed apprehension, and nerves of facing him after all these years. The distance made us feel like complete strangers. Heck, we were all strangers. Guilt made its first appearance of the day waving its hand my way. I know…I know…it’s my fault for staying away from everyone….

  "Watcha looking at there?" I jumped in fright and spun around. I didn't know Claire had already arrived.

  Now, she loved appearing on the reality show. It showcased her super successful line and boutique in the city.

  "Oh, do come here, you. Hug your sister. I still hate you for that gorgeous natural ass of yours. You know it's a shame you don't do your own shoots like these. You really could have made a killing as a model."

  Her familiar French perfume knocked my senses. More guilt panged my stomach for the absentee sister I had been. Running away.

  "I'm so sorry, Claire. How are you handling everything?"

  She pulled away. Her eyes were puffy and swollen. "He just collapsed. Like that. No warning. No heads up. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. So many things I wanted to do to make him proud of me again."

  “Oh he was proud of you. Your boutique and line are doing amazing."

  "It better. I'm freaking thirty-two. At thirty-two you have your shit together. I was never like golden boy here."

  She folded her arms and sighed as she stared at the wall. I wanted to console her. She did live life awhile without a mother, at the time when a daughter needed one the most. She was closer to my own mother than I was.

  "It's horrid, everything Bradley has to think about today. The day his own father dies, he has to step in and take executive role and make decisions he’d rather not make."

  My heart did something funny. Something stirred in me.

  “Have you spoken to your mother? You know she's filming right now in Tahiti. They were seeking some sunshine. I feel awful for her. You know she really did love my father.”

  More guilt paid my heart and my stomach. I never knew I would feel such feelings. I really had become a reclusive hermit, shutting off my heart because I didn't want the world to know me. All because I didn't want my life on display. I locked myself away and lived my life like a nun. Maybe it was time to change all that.

  “Yeah. I mean, I’m in the middle of this really important paper and she texted me but I didn’t know it was urgent like this until I actually read the text. As soon as I did, I called her right away, but her voicemail went straight through.”

  She gently placed her hand on my shoulder, a sisterly touch I missed.

  “Yeah it's not easy flying from Tahiti reception wise. She should be arriving in the next twelve hours. It's okay, you know.” Her words rang to my heart and her firmer grasp caused me to jump.

  “Barely seen him. It's natural to be nervous.”

  “I'm fine. I'm fine.” The defenses went up.

  “All I care about is you guys…Kate?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If there's one thing my father's death, his sudden passing, has taught me, don't let time go by. Don't make the mistake thinking time will always be there on your side.”

  Chapter 4

  BRADLEY

  * * *

  A storm was coming. One of those dangerous nor ‘easters that shuts down the city and leaves millions without power. At least a foot of snow with blizzard strength was expected in the city and citizens were warned ahead of time by the mayor to prepare their homes and families in advance, to not let freezing to death become an option, because it could be an option if one wasn’t prepared. From boarding their homes, to evacuating if need be, there was a lot to do. Evacuating was a possibility and we would all know within the next twenty-four hours from the emergency advisory out in the Hamptons.

  But we Rainshaws would not have to evacuate due to our spectacular generator. The property was as dependable as a hospital during a natural disaster. My father made sure of it. If there was one thing he hated, it was chaos. I was always convinced he had prepared for the apocalypse. That or if he ever had to go into hiding from shady deals, he�
��d be able to survive if his enemies went as far as to barricade him in. Well, now I’d never know. Hell, I did know. Who was I kidding? The enemy did get him in the long run; he was robbed of his life, an early death. It was a heart attack, and it was stress-induced. Fucking horrible.

  Such preparation on his end, however, made our family fine but the roads would not be safe to travel for all of our guests, thus we had to combine all services and funeral activities into one day. One day filled with strange hugs, stiff handshakes, stories from people I’d never see again about my father this time on the yacht, or that other time in the board room. Ah, he wasn’t the great bull shark all the time. There were moments I loved. I’d miss. The lump in my throat caught and I thought of her to appease the weight. Such emotion turned into fucking butterflies.

  My overactive futuristic mind already thought about it after this full day: we’d be snowbound. We. As in she and me. In the same house. Snowbound. But I couldn’t think that far. No.

  I had to get my head out of that fact and back on the present.

  So we made it all a full day, then—a viewing at 9 AM, funeral at 1, and then an immediate wake at our home. I had to deal with so many schmucks who didn’t give a damn about my family, who only cared about the money my father provided.

  It was an early day, one that required my best foot forward and my most stellar poker face to date while I received them all, as I stood feeling every emotion imaginable.