Billionaire Stepbrother - Addiction: The Complete Series Read online

  Although it seemed almost everyone knew him, he had a name tag that said “Mr. Theodore Ghent, President, Ghent International, Inc.” The company slogan, emblazoned on a huge, garish banner behind the man, said, “Building YOUR Future!” She laughed, thinking it both personally and professionally arrogant.

  As she stood listening, an aide came by with a folding chair for her. When she said she would stand, the assistant looked a bit discomfited.

  “The Old Man would have my job if I didn’t make sure you had a ring-side seat, Miss,” he said. “Please, sit!”

  He smiled and gestured expansively, and so Sarah thanked the aide and sat down to listen.

  It was a pretty spectacular presentation, and she found herself nodding and asking a few questions.

  Mr. Theodore Ghent looked directly at her, with a huge appealing grin and boyish manner, as he answered her. Of course, he did the same with all of his potential clients, so she felt maybe it was just his being friendly. But, she felt a stirring, not unpleasant, that she couldn’t ignore.

  After about a half-hour, it became evident to her that the ‘Old Man’s’ charisma and charm had undoubtedly affected her; she thought her interest in the product might be perceived as too forward, and she caught herself blushing when he mentioned his hardware was “100% Satisfaction guaranteed!”

  He had an infectious grin and was fit and athletic for his age. He looked confident and handled the crowd with the ease of a polished showman.

  When the presentation was over, she was surprised to find herself applauding with the rest of the attendees. She wondered if it were really that good of a product. So, she walked up and had a brief chat with Mr. Ghent. His eyes and manner made her feel warm, but she had finally amassed enough sales speak to decide she would probably get a trial and see how it fit in with her business.

  Another attendee asked Mr. Ghent a question, which allowed her the space to exit.

  As she made ready to leave, she picked up a few brochures and a business card and then began to leave the auditorium.

  She was almost to the parking garage when a strong, masculine voice came from just behind her.

  She felt a light touch on her elbow and turned to face Mr. Theodore Ghent. Apparently, he had run almost entirely across the conference room to catch up with her, but he wasn’t even winded.

  She took an appraising look at him, and unconsciously licked her lips.

  “Excuse me, Miss…” he glanced at her name card, “Markland. My name’s Theodore Ghent.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just spent the last ninety minutes listening to your pitch.”

  Ghent blushed, and laughed. “Of course you did. It’s just my manners, a habit.”

  “Can I help you, Mr. Ghent?” she asked.

  Ghent’s voice was deep and rumbly, and she thought it sounded very sexy.

  She turned to face him directly, and they gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. When no one blinked, she smiled at him. He smiled back and almost nodded. In fact, she was sure he had nodded when she thought about it later.

  Smiling an infectious grin, the Old Man said, “You simply must allow me to take you to dinner!”

  She paused, uncertain.

  She searched her feelings and found she was suddenly and unexpectedly hopeful, of all things!

  What a strange emotion to have occurred from such a simple request!

  He continued.

  “I know this wonderful restaurant, about two miles from here. We can take a cab, or drive there separately if you prefer. I must warn you, though, that I don’t drive myself anywhere, anymore. My insurance company prohibits it!” he said, a bit quickly. She smiled back. “Okay,” she said.

  “Let’s take a cab,” he said.

  They walked outside, chatting about little things like the other displays, and the venue. When they got to the taxi stand, the concierge handed the OM a small packet and opened their doors. They entered, and she slid across to the far side of the cab.

  “Can I offer the suggestion of some music?” asked the driver.

  “Light jazz, if you please, John,” said the Ghent. He had known the driver’s name from the license being displayed, and she thought that the Old Man missed very little. She wondered if he could smell her scent. She discovered she was becoming quite worked up this near to him.

  “I am famished!” she exclaimed. “So, Mr. Ghent…” she began.

  “Call me Ted,” he said.

  “OK, Ted, call me Sarah, then,” she said, smoothly. She licked her lips unconsciously and moved a bit closer to him.

  The next several hours flew past, and Sarah was enchanted by Mr. Theodore “Ted” Ghent. He was refined and courteous, and they had a marvelous time with the wine captain. The lobsters were delicious, the prime rib was pink and rare and had that rich flavor that comes with aged beef.

  The wine was so good, she was afraid she might overindulge. At one point, she had laughed and almost kissed her date. She deftly covered it with a motion with her hand, as if waving away smoke or mist.

  She felt a pang at his slightly disappointed look, but it had been and gone so quickly, replaced with playful mirth, that she wasn’t even certain it was real. He looked at her with unguarded attraction, and Sarah began to feel something she had not felt since before she was married.

  She listened as he spoke, and when he would drink or eat, she watched carefully how the muscles of his face worked. He moved like a panther, with long, languid motions. Once or twice, he made a small, efficient movement to reposition himself, and she smirked at his uncomfortable attempt to do it suavely.

  Sarah didn’t overtly look at it, but she could tell Mr. Ted Ghent had quite a package under that ten-thousand dollar suit.

  Sarah excused herself to go to the ladies. Ghent rose and helped her with her chair, moving so close to her she could smell his animal scent. He nuzzled against her, slightly, almost by accident, it seemed. She could tell he smelled her hair, and tiny goose bumps came up on her arms.

  She slowly walked away, until she was out of sight of his smiling, bemused face.

  Then she ran straight into the women’s room.

  Relief flooded her when she realized it was empty, and she locked the stall door behind her. Breathing hard, she took several minutes to compose herself.

  “Dear God!” she thought. “I almost came!”

  She dabbed at herself and carefully took a good five minutes to re-apply her makeup, comb her hair, and adjust her clothing.

  Then, on impulse, she took one of her business cards out and wrote a silly little note on it. In her slightly inebriated state, it must have seemed like a grand idea or a good prank.

  She put a big wet kiss, fresh from her newly applied lipstick over the words, giggling like an idiot.

  “That’ll give old Teddy a heart attack!” she laughed to herself.

  Sarah walked back out, careful not to sway or bump into anything valuable. She decided to take on a regal air, as if she were an exotic Princess from a foreign land, haughty and deserving of the very best, and woe unto the poor suitor who could not prove his mettle or his worth!

  She laughed again, and then saw Ted, still politely standing in the same place.

  He held her chair, again coming close to her, brushing her lightly. This time, he allowed a hand to gently squeeze her shoulder as he went back to his own seat.

  They ate some more and had an aperitif, followed by coffee. They idly chatted, comfortable with each other, and even sat silently gazing for a bit.

  Wordless communication made them both anxious and eager, but both affected a relaxed, comfortable manner. They moved very close when they spoke so that their words would not spill foolishly outside of their personal space.

  Sarah was enraptured and kept wondering if this were a dream. How could such a man be single?

  Finally, Ted called for the check. They were both stuffed full of quality fare, including a Baked Alaska dessert that was to die for.

  He
had escorted her back to the Convention Center and waited while she found her keys and rummaged around in her purse. Finally, she managed to fish out the infamous business card, and she hesitated only a moment before handing it to him.

  She had steeled herself against him reading it and calling her some kind of name, or being insulted or even angry. Suddenly feeling very sober, she thought maybe she had gone too far and had made a mistake or at the least a grave faux pas.

  She began to reach to grab it back.

  What happened next was so unexpected it caught her off guard. Ted barely glanced at the front of the card and tossed it into his jacket, like a used tissue!

  Well! She thought. That was that…

  They exchanged the usual pleasantries, telling each other how much fun they had had, and that he would be sure to call her about her requirements in the next day or so, or have one of his staff contact her people. Some business bullshit! How could she have misjudged him so badly? All he wanted was to make a sale! The bastard!

  They shook hands.

  Sarah, overwhelmed by how she had not correctly read this man’s intent, and ashamed of herself because of her rising lust, thanked him once more, and got into her rental car.

  She started it, and backed out, driving to her now sure to be empty hotel room.

  When she finally got into the room, she realized that she had been crying for almost the entire drive.

  She slipped off her clothing, and went directly to sleep, emotionally and physically worn out.

  In her dreams, she saw Ted on the deck of her newly built house, smiling and gazing at her with those fantastic eyes.

  

  Chapter Two

  The Old Man stood next to Kady’s mother, basking in the warmth of the moment.

  He thought back about how he had come to be here, standing at the altar, a groom once again. It was his third wedding. He chuckled inwardly and laughed at how strange the journey had been in his life.

  He looked over at his son, Brett, who was his best man.

  His son’s mother, Marcy, had been an excellent woman, in her own way.

  But, whether, from boredom or who knew what, she had become a bit dulled by her husband’s work ethic. She also had been able to turn a blind eye to his peccadillos for only so long before she had to make some manner of decision for her own sanity.

  She had tried to exit the marriage with some class, but it didn’t quite work out that way.

  Being found with one of his senior programmer’s penis in her mouth was not exactly the height of class, thought the Old Man.

  Still, he admired how she managed to exit the marriage well-compensated.

  They agreed to share custody of Brett, and neither of them were hurting for money, as she came from a wealthy family of old money class, and the Old Man’s business was doing pretty well at that time. Brett mainly stayed with her, and she always treated him well. The Old Man remembered that Brett had always excelled at math in school, and eventually would be recognized with the highest scholastic awards to be had.

  The Old Man mentally shrugged, recalling how he tired rather quickly of his secretary, Betty. She became harsh and didn’t like Brett because he intruded into the relationship she was trying to nurture with Brett’s father. A natural order of things, one supposed.

  Betty wasn’t entirely stereotypical, but there was not anything past cordial affection from necessity. No stranger to these things, the Old Man had decided fairly quickly that another divorce was in short order. Betty screamed and carried on about it for a time, but her alimony settlement and a new beau salved her conscience soon enough.

  Once that unfortunate marriage was dissolved, he had focused on growing the business.

  Soon, he was the President and CEO of the largest integrator of construction management software in the world, and it expanded beyond the Old Man’s wildest dreams.

  For a few years, the Old Man, or OM, as Brett nicknamed him, was stag.

  He had the occasional fling to release tension, going to Vegas, or Monaco, or even Amsterdam to blow off some steam and get laid. He would come back from these trips relaxed, but pensive. He was the kind of man who liked a good woman at his beck and call, and he sadly figured he had probably missed a bet by not attempting to reconcile with Marcy.

  But, time went on, and eventually the he had indeed met a kindred spirit.

  Sarah was a widow, her husband having died in one of the endless wars that were fought for this or that natural resource or political objective. She had one daughter, Kady, a marvelous young lady whom she loved dearly.

  Sarah was looking to grow her small bespoke housing cooperative into something a bit more. She was researching the software she would need to go to the next level when they met at a trade show.

  The Old Man was surrounded by his team, extolling the virtues of their latest release, which could be accessed via a computer attached to the Internet from anywhere in the world using something called a ‘browser’.

  Noticing a fine-looking woman standing in the back of the room, he made a small gesture, one that appeared integral to the presentation. In reality, it was a signal to his aide, Martin, to find a seat for the new arrival. Martin brought the woman a folding chair, and after a few awkward moments, she sat and listened.

  Many times during the spiel, this young lady, who had introduced herself as Sarah Markland, would politely interject herself into the conversation. She was always asking the right questions, and the OM was impressed.

  He pretended not to favor her, but he found it difficult to keep his eyes off of her. She was confident, professional, and highly attractive. So much so, he realized, to his growing horror that he was on the verge of attaining a sizeable erection.

  Moving behind the podium for a moment, he mentally composed himself. He continued going through the bullet points and regurgitating the marketing speak for the audience.

  Finally, he asked for any further questions, and when none were forthcoming, thanked the audience for their attention and indicated that a more personal interaction could be had by approaching any of a number of his aides, who were standing pleasantly with clipboards and brochures at the ready.

  The Old Man maneuvered by several enthusiastic potential clients, eager to find a way to meet this Sarah Markland woman on a more personal basis.

  He was shocked, then, when she walked up, introduced herself again, and then asked several probing and interesting questions regarding licensing of his software. He answered her, looking straight into her face, in an attempt to not become too aroused by her.

  She spoke with him for several minutes, until she had satisfied herself, and began collecting some brochures and a business card.

  In the end, she thanked him and excused herself.

  Blast it all! He shouted internally.

  He watched her disappear around the privacy wall that had been set up for his presentation. He took note of how many more customers were still looking for some answer to some obscure question from him, and made a, for him, rash decision.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you please!” he said in a strong, clear voice.

  The gathered throng looked at him.

  “Please allow me to treat you to an open bar at this Convention Center’s fine establishment, ‘O’Malleys Pub,’ which is located near the rear exit,” he said.

  “If you would be so kind as to retire to there, I will send my staff along to further answer your inquiries!” he finished.

  Martin looked at him as though he were crazy.

  “Ted, what are you doing?” he asked.

  “Martin, keep it together. Take the team over there, now. Tell Susan and Barb to drag along two cases of 51B and 52B pamphlets. Give those to everyone here, answer any obvious questions, and tell them to call on Monday if they want more deets.

  I don’t think anyone will care, once you give them two drinks on the house over at the Pub. Three max. That’s the pub’s limit, not ours, for an open bar. House rule. So, i
f anyone bitches, tell them to talk to the manager, ‘Crazy’ Mike O’Malley. Got it?” he said.

  “Sure thing, boss,” said Martin. “And, good luck!”

  Martin smiled and walked off to take care of orchestrating the crowd into a semblance of a group.

  The Old Man dodged around the fabric wall, hurriedly glancing up and down the aisles. He caught a glimpse of a nice business dress suit, as Sarah was walking out the Convention Center’s interior entrance.

  He took off in a sprint, trying not to seem too eager, and failing miserably. He dodged the other attendees, going back and forth, from aisle to the corridor, and almost running into a vendor, who shot him a dark look.

  Finally gaining on her, he slowed his pace to a fast walk and ordered his body to calm down. He mentally girded himself for rejection, but secretly hoped this marvelous woman would do him the honor of a dinner date.

  Steeling himself, he placed a hand on her elbow, gently.

  “Excuse me, Miss…” he glanced at her name card, “Markland. My name’s Theodore Ghent.”

  Smiling an infectious grin, he said, “You simply must allow me to take you to dinner!”

  Now, standing at the altar, with this woman who had agreed to marry him, his third and her second, he remembered how she looked at him with that slow appraising glance.

  He had held his breath because he really did not want to be rejected by this beautiful creature.

  He had continued.

  “I know this wonderful restaurant, about two miles from here. We can take a cab, or drive there separately if you prefer. I must warn you, though, that I don’t drive myself anywhere, anymore. My insurance company prohibits it!” he said, a bit quickly and thinking he sounded like a love-struck schoolboy.

  She smiled back.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Let’s take a cab,” he said.

  They walked outside, chatting about little things like the other displays, and the venue.