FIERCED 1: A Stepbrother Romance Page 2

  “Yeah thanks for that sage advice but I already have a father.”

  “Just saying, Principessa. ‘Cos you know, been there done it.”

  “Have I told you yet to stop fucking calling me that?”

  He grips me tighter, muzzled beneath his hard body while we struggle to regain our breath. The stirring rising from my thighs through my core is agonizing and I’m sure he feels it. My hips crane with the desire to press back and test the bulge in his pants. What the fuck am I thinking?

  “I’m calm,” I spit through pinched lips. I don’t actually want him to let me go. I’d be happy to stay there with him panting against my neck. The tugs in his lungs pounding and echoing from his chest into mine but pride is always the winner with me.

  Arrggh. His repressing me is driving me insane in too many ways. One side I’m flailing against his restraint, on the other I want him holding me down like I’m chained and at his complete mercy. No way I want him to know that though. I writhe and wriggle, trying to get some purchase to turn.

  “Let me go.”

  With a massive effort of squirming, I manage to get my upper body turned around to face him. But he keeps my lower half strapped down under his solid thigh so I’m looking direct into his dark eyes. His face inches away from mine so that I feel his breath on my lips. I’m sure he can feel mine too, panting from the exertion of breaking free. And his solid body pressed into the full length of my torso, crushing my breasts.

  “Aren’t you gonna ask nice and pretty, Principessa?” he purrs into my mouth.

  I’m torn between the urge to part my lips slightly, inviting him to press into them with a touch of the tip of my tongue and biting his pillow-swollen lower lip until blood spurts.

  I have to force my lids to stay up, not droop into a swoon of ready to be kissed. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do. I’ve never known a man like this. Dangerous, bad and so exciting. The furthest thing from the frat boys and diplomats sons I usually get to meet.

  We stand there in the hallway, breathing way too fast, our chests rising and falling in equal time. My breasts grazing his rope of sinew every dragged inhalation. His thick bicep pinning me into the wall and our faces that close. His lips lean forward to mine and the delicate skin blooms. And then the moment passes.

  He has just pushed back from me-was I imagining it that he seemed reluctant to do so? - when my father appears on the stairs.

  “Ah good, you’re here, Romeo,” he says.

  Romeo?

  “Come into my office.”

  “Call me Rocco, Sir. Or Roq for short,” the bully tells my father. “Romeo was my mother’s little joke.”

  “Yes. I believe your mother has quite the sense of humor.” Daddy smiles to himself like it’s a secret.

  “Romeo actually means ‘Man of Rome’ but yeah-whatev- my middle name, Rocco, works.”

  “Rocco it is. Suits you. Come into my office, I have very little time.”

  “Daddy can I speak to you for a moment,” I say, pulling myself up tall in front of the two giants of men.

  Just this once, I’m glad my father didn’t notice me standing right in front of him. My scarlet blazing cheeks have calmed now I’m sure and the embarrassment of being caught by daddy while my panties continue to dampen has also receded. The fury at the idiot standing in my hall like he owns it and speaking to my father like they’re old best boys almost fires me up again though.

  Who does he think he is coming in here and virtually attacking me? Restraining me for any of the passing help to witness then being all chummy with dad who seems to be more interested in talking to him behind closed doors than his only daughter.

  “Lisa darling, can it wait? I have to get back to the conference. There’s a situation.”

  He’s already turned away before I even have the chance to tell him it can’t wait and there’s always a situation but now we have one here. I have to warn him about the biker who was snooping around in his office.

  “We can talk when I get back. In fact, make it a date because I have something to discuss with you.”

  “Dinner at eight?”

  “No baby, I’m flying out tonight. Just for a couple of days.”

  “Where are you going Daddy? Can I come?”

  “Not this time, baby girl. Like I said it’s only for a couple days and I’ll have a big surprise for you when I get back.”

  He closes the door on his office but not before I notice the big guy smirking at me like we share a secret. The loathing rises deep in my core again. I hate that big bastard so much if I ever see him again I’ll-Argh I don’t even know what I could do to him that would hurt. I still feel his arms enveloping me in a force of iron. He’s like a solid rock of immovable force. Yeah his name suits him.

  I don’t want any more surprises from my father. Every time he jets off on one of these two or three day tours of the Middle East or Africa he brings me back some very expensive bauble from the hotel gift shop. I have a box filled with stunning jewelry but I have no parents who have any interest in me.

  Chapter THREE

  I pass the weekend home alone, reading. Only going out of the compound to shoot photographs around the city, always with Sandro my minder, just three steps behind. I’m still livid with that big brute who pushed me up against the wall, forcing his thigh between my legs.

  I can’t get it out of my mind and spend an entire afternoon lying on my bed trying to picture him lying on top of me. Squashing me beneath his massive bulk. Great pangs of lust fire between my legs as I close my eyes and really feel his wide thigh muscle flexing against my pussy.

  My fingertips trail up the side of my legs into the inner curve and all the way up to the aching crevasse. I cover the burning mound of my pussy and rub with increasing ferocity as I imagine the Rock would do, while his hot breath scalded into my neck. I tear back the side of my underwear and bury into my wet folds, swiping up and down the length of my slit.

  A deep moan escapes my mouth, hanging open in my thrown back head as I rub circles around my open entrance. It takes moments before the waves and waves of pleasure thrash through my body to the edges of my skin. I have never managed to bring about such a tumultuous release before. Thanks to the powerful emotions I have stored up from that encounter in the hall.

  “You’re married?” My utter disbelief could not have been more jaw-dropping had he told me he was flying to Mars and been birthed by aliens. “But you’re -”

  I come very close to saying ‘You’re already married’ but that isn’t true any more. My mom, his wife, is dead and he’s at liberty to take another one anytime he chooses. He just chose sooner rather than later and that seems like a smack in the face to her. If you love someone, surely you don’t seek to replace them that fast.

  “How? Where?”

  “We flew to The Seychelles for the weekend. I only meant to surprise her with the ring but then it was so romantic that emotions got the better of us.”

  “Didn’t you want your family to attend?” As in me. My own father could not get married without me there. I mean it just doesn’t happen. “Who is she? Do I even know her?”

  “Yes and no. That’s the surprise. She’ll be here any moment. I should have waited to tell you.”

  “No actually you should have told me much sooner and not waited.” I say, the pain making me vile.

  “Now don’t start throwing one of your temper fits, Lisa. You should be happy for me. Your mother would have wanted it and she never liked tantrums.”

  “How dare you bring Mom into this when you’ve – defiled – her memory and brought-”

  I’m stuttering and blubbering unable to get the words out through the thick goo of my rage and pain and total worthlessness when the door floats open and a vision appears. A woman I know, or think I know, literally wafts into the room and my father throws himself across the broad expanse to hold her arm as though she might fall and break.

  How must it feel to know you’re that precio
us to someone? That a man cares about you that deeply? In my envy I’m determined to hate her forever.

  “Monica, please allow me the honor of introducing you to my daughter, Lisa.”

  “Our daughter now, Cola. Hallo, my dear. I am so glad to meet you finally.”

  The woman sweeps me into her bosomy embrace and I’m overcome with the sweet smell of her perfume. The clank of the diamonds dangling from her neck into my collarbone. She’s a bundle of over-priced femininity and my father is plainly besotted.

  “Yes, finally I get to meet the woman my Father’s been keeping a secret,” I say with clenched jaws as I break free from her suffocating hold.

  “That I’m afraid is my fault. You see we’re kept under tight contractual control at the studio and my publicity people have the run of me.” She gives me an ingratiating smile with arms held out in supplication like the helpless soul she clearly is not.

  Studio?

  Oh fuck, yeah, now I know where I’ve seen her. Some boring movie for the old folks my dad had made me sit through the only night in a year he spent any time with me. I should have known it wasn’t a selfless act. He had no interest in us hanging out, he just wanted to get together with his paramour even through the magic of film.

  Monica DeAngelis. That’s her name. A movie star of a certain age who appears frequently in People magazine as one of the sexiest women in the world. Quite a coup d’etat for my diplomat dad. No wonder he couldn’t wait to get the pre-nup inked.

  “And your publicity people didn’t want even close family finding out,” I snap.

  “Now Lisa, what have I told you about temper?”

  “It’s okay, Cola,” Madam MovieStar says as she holds up her hand. I’ve never seen my dominant dad so docile as with this new bride. She is clearly wearing the pants for all her flowing silk gowns.

  And why the fuck is she calling him Cola, like he’s a fizzy pop? A flash image of the only other person who’d used that nickname makes the chasm between my legs clench anew.

  “It’s to be expected that she’s upset,” Monica is clearly a woman who never stops mouthing off. “My dear, your father was afraid of this. He was worried that telling you about his new love would bring back too much pain about losing your mother.”

  “Well he was right about one thing,” I whine.

  “So you see why he didn’t tell you. But I have a lovely surprise to make up for it.”

  I was pretty much all out of excitement for lovely surprises at the moment.

  “I have a movie premiere tonight and we’re all going.”

  “Oh, no -”

  “Yes come on, don’t be a spoilsport. It will be a beautiful event with loads of glamorous movie stars to meet including Dante, who plays my lover in the film.”

  Dante Nardo, my guilty passion when he was in Dropkick with Bruce Willis. Her lover? He ought to be playing her son.

  “Wouldn’t you like to meet Dante? I can personally introduce you.”

  “Of course she’s coming Monica,” my father interrupts. “Although I’m not sure I want her meeting hot Italian studs. But I do need her there for when we make the announcement to the world about our wedding on a secret island.”

  Right. So I’m to be stuck with my usual role of dutiful sweet daughter, only now completely obscured by two narcissists instead of one.

  “And I must get her some new clothes right this instant because you clearly haven’t taken her shopping since her mother died. She looks a fright.”

  I press my lips together and bite down hard on the soft skin, now dry with adrenalin from the desire to give her a bucking bronco treatment. The personal insult doesn’t smart nearly as much as her reference to my mother. If she utters her name ever again I swear I’ll-

  “She’s going through a phase,” Daddy says. “Please do take her for a makeover and bring her back in your own perfect image.”

  Great, looking like the younger version of Morticia Addams. I just watched that movie on the weekend, while they were celebrating their love. I couldn’t help fantasizing about living in that family. At least they had each other’s backs.

  I don’t think I need go into details of the girl’s getting-to-know-each-other shopping trip with my evil stepmother. Sure enough, the woman’s a manipulative self-absorbed fiend but to give her some benefit of doubt, it’s gotta come with the territory. Being a numero uno movie star would make you obsessed with your appearance and what people think of you. And it’s all Monica talks about.

  I don’t care. I never asked for a replacement mom and although she pulls me in close when a roving paparazzo stops us for a picture, she’s not taking the new role as seriously as she takes herself. Whenever a fan pulls out a phone for a selfie, it’s all Monica and to hell with the new step daughter.

  I’m all good with it and at least the woman has taste. I suggest a cool store called Humana Vintage but she sniffs and has the driver stop at Balenciaga. Just walking into that place is like entering a massive art gallery. Monica selects a strapless satin mini gown with a bell skirt just like I’d seen on Misha in a magazine. New shoes, mini purse and I’m done.

  I haven’t been out in forevs. I can survive a night out at a movie premiere gala especially if it means going skin to skin (okay sweaty palms but I can dream) with Dante Nardo.

  My father and new step mom forget my existence the moment we step from the limousine. They’re all about the red carpet, waving and turning this way and that to strike a pose for the paps. I wander along behind feeling like a dolled-up assistant and no one even wonders who the fuck I am.

  Inside the massive warehouse at Cinecitta movie studios is decorated to look like what-an alien space station I guess. I get with the program by ditching the units and ordering a glass of prosecco from the bar. And then I turn and crash eyes with a gorgeous hunk, creamy tanned skin and filthy blonde hair.

  “Don’t I know you?” he says, which is not the greatest opener but still I cross one heel over the other foot and hitch my hip in a flirty little stance that allows me to squeeze my thighs together good and hard.

  Because the guy is just. so. beautiful. His square cut jaw and green tinged eyes are the thing of movie heroes. Which he’s gotta be but I’m not going to be lame and starstruck enough to ask.

  “No, I’m not in the biz,” I say and extend a confident hand hoping the tremoring doesn’t let me down. “Lisa St. James, Ambassador’s daughter.”

  “There you go, Ryan Jacks, diplomatic attache. Which makes us practically old friends, although I hope to change that.”

  He’s shaken my hand but continues to hold it in both his own, softly stroking one thumb along the ridge of my finger like it’s – oh crap I have to get my mind out of the filth. Ever since that asshole in the hall, all my senses have been on overload.

  “You’re new in Italy?” I ask. “And you collect hands.” People are looking. It’s time for him to release me much as I like the caress.

  “Yeah just transferred from Morocco, sudden replacement. And sorry about the hand. It just seems to fit so naturally in mine.”

  His glittering eyes delve into mine with a ton of promises I don’t care if he never keeps, so long as I get to feel those lips as well as palms covering mine.

  “My father, he gets a bit, you know, -”

  “Uptight?”

  “I was gonna go possessive but uptight works. He’s just obsessed about me being abducted.” Ryan stifles a grimace. Does he think it could never happen to me? Or that I’m making myself out to be too important?

  “Well I’d probably be the same if you were my girl,” Ryan, golden boy says. “Yeah, I definitely would. Are you going to the big party next week?”

  “I don’t get to go out too much. Which party is that?” Because I would love to continue the flirting. He’s only been in Italy a short while but he’s learning the art fast.

  “Some biggie billionaire corporate devil is having the party of the century at his palace in Venice. There’s gonna be movie stars
and TV coverage. He’s flying a whole bunch of veeps up there.”

  “I guess my father will be invited seeing as he just married a movie star, but I’m unlikely to be extended one.”

  “Well, you are definitely welcome to come as my date if you can lower yourself to taking the train. I’d sure love to-”

  “Hey there, Principessa, so they let ol’ bucking bronco out of the bullring for the night?”

  There’s no need to turn and check. I’d know that voice even in the firestorm at the end of the world. Unforgettable. It haunts every waking moment and all my fantasies of being taken hard in the dead of night. Or the middle of the afternoon. My fury rises with how much I despise this character and my body betrays me with a gush between my legs. Only question is what the fuck is he doing here at a movie premiere? Gotta ask.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? Out on parole? Or furlough to instruct some movie actor playing a criminal?”

  I turn to glare at him with all the loathing I can muster and my knees almost buckle beneath me. The guy is pure virility in a suit. The black and white only highlights his gorgeous face, the slicked back hair. He scrubs up like every woman’s fantasy super spy. The designer jacket hugs the swell of his huge biceps and they kick right back at the snug fabric. Unlike Ryan whose tie is neat and perfect, Rocco wears his bow undone with the two tails hanging over his shoulders. I don’t dare look down to check out the rippling thighs.

  Do. Not. Look. Down.

  Oh shit. My eyes trailed a sneak preview and he totally busted me out.

  “Just doing a little stalking.” Now he’s grinning like a maniac and Ryan is looking decidedly pissed.

  “Are you going to introduce me to your, er friend?”

  “I’m sorry for my rudeness but I don’t know this person aside from the fact that he accosted me a few days ago in my own home.”

  “He did what?” Ryan beefs up with the chest and fists which is sweet but maybe a little ridiculous unless he’s a black belt. Beside the Rock he looks like Princess Leia. I mean he’s a well enough built guy but Romeo Rocco is ripped.