Stepbrother Secret Billionaire Read online

  Somehow he had moved around the table and was holding out my chair, and I couldn’t even remember letting go of his hand. I sat down, in a daze. “You okay?” he said, smiling.

  “Yeah, I just…. I guess I’m a little nervous.”

  “Oh sure, blind dates are tough,” he said.

  “Do you go on a lot of them?” I asked, wondering how it was that he didn’t know me.

  “I don’t know about a lot. It feels like a lot. Maybe once a month, is that a lot?”

  I laughed. “It’s about twelve more a year than I go on.” I was having this conversation with about a tenth of my brain, while the rest of me was silently freaking right out.

  He laughed too, and then he looked me over for a long minute, and I was sure he recognized me. But no, because he said, “How do you know Jim and Shannon?”

  “Well, Shannon has been my friend since high school. I grew up here.” I figured now he’d say, Oh yeah, you’re my stepsister Kathy. But still no.

  “Really? I didn’t see you at their wedding,” he said.

  “No, I had to miss it. I was still in Ethiopia.”

  “Oh yeah, the Peace Corps. That must have been a trip, huh? What were you doing over there?”

  The maitre d’ came back with a bottle of wine. He showed it to Mick, who nodded, and then the maitre d’ opened the bottle and poured a little bit into two glasses. He gave one to each of us, and I half expected Mick to say, No, she’s underage. Mick tasted the wine, swirled it all around in his mouth like they do in movies and nodded to the waiter again. They both looked at me, so I tasted it, swished it like mouthwash and nodded too, feeling like an actress in a play. The maitre d’ poured us each a full glass and left.

  I half-whispered, “I don’t know a thing about wine. So this could be really good Kool-Ade for all I know.”

  He laughed hard at that and said, “Believe me, Casey, it’s very good Kool-Ade.” He chuckled some more and then said, “Why don’t we order, and then you can tell me all about the Peace Corps.”

  I picked up the menu that had been lying there. My heart sank when I saw the prices. I was pretty sure he was going to pay, so it wasn’t that, but the idea of spending that much money on one meal—I couldn’t do it. To my extreme embarrassment, I started to shake a little.

  “I’m not very hungry, I don’t think,” I managed to say. “Maybe I’ll just get an appetizer.” Even the appetizers were in the twenty- or thirty-dollar range though.

  He looked up at me sharply. “Don’t tell me you’re dieting,” he said. “If I date one more girl who can’t eat because she imagines she’s too fat….” Mick gazed into my face for a minute, and then in a voice like a caress, a voice I still heard in my dreams, he said, “What’s wrong, Casey?”

  “It’s just—this is going to sound crazy—the prices on this menu! If we order wine and apps and entrees…the total…. It could probably buy enough food to feed my whole village in Ethiopia for a week, maybe longer.” I could hear that my voice was wavering. I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t start crying in the middle of a fancy restaurant.

  I couldn’t quite figure out the look on his face. Finally he said, “That doesn’t sound crazy. It kind of makes you sound like…a decent human being.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make a big deal about it. I just got back two weeks ago, and…I just don’t think I can do this.”

  Mick looked at me steadily all this time, and then tapped his chiseled upper lip with his forefinger. “I’ll tell you what. I want you to have a really good time tonight, without worrying about this. What if—however much we spend on dinner tonight, I’ll donate the same amount to the Peace Corps or whatever your favorite charity is. We’ll even send it right to that village if you want to.”

  I blinked a few times. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ll even write the check right here at the table and we can drop it in the mail on our way home, if you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, no, I believe you! I just…. I’m surprised.”

  “Of course you know what that means, don’t you?” he teased.

  “Um. What?”

  “That if you really want the donation to mean something, you have to order the most luxurious, most obscenely expensive things on the menu. You can’t skip dessert. You have to really commit to being lavish and extravagant.”

  I felt a smile start small and grow bigger and bigger until I was grinning across the table at Mick. He was doing the same thing right back at me. The longer we sat there, the bigger we smiled until the whole thing started to seem funny. Soon we were chuckling and truly laughing as we looked into one another’s eyes. He groped for my hands across the table and I joined my hands with his until our laughter went back to smiles again, and then nothing was funny any more. We were just two happy people holding hands. I was feeling pretty wonderful until I remembered with a jolt that this was Mick and he didn’t know who I was at all. I gently let go of his hands and the moment passed.

  Soon we were discussing menu items, and how to plan our orders for maximum extravagance. I talked him into adding the amount of the tip to the donation check as well, knowing that he was just pretending to resist the idea. It was easy to talk about myself then—or about the last few years and my job. I didn’t touch on my family at all, of course. He told me about being an environmental lawyer.

  “With our state lawmakers being in the pockets of the big oil companies,” he said at one point, “fracking doesn’t have a lot of checks on it. It’s so destructive, though. Suing the oil and gas companies is about the only protection the little guy has when a big corporation wants to frack his farm. That’s where I come in.” He smiled modestly, and I felt so proud of him. Not only had he managed to make something of himself in his chosen profession, he was doing important work for the greater good of everyone on the planet.

  I must say, there were several points in the evening when I almost told him who I was. But I knew that as soon as I did, everything would change. He would stop looking at me with those admiring glances, stop flirting and laughing with me. He might even be angry that I had waited so long and wasted his time, not to mention his money. So I decided to keep it to myself for just a little while. To enjoy this one night when I could pretend that Mick and I could have had a life together. It wouldn’t really hurt anything. In a day or two, I decided, I’d text him, or email, and call a halt to this game. Or maybe I’d get lucky and he wouldn’t call me for a second date and the problem would solve itself.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mick

  From escargot to creme brulée, Casey and I laid waste to that meal, laughing and talking the whole time. She was one pretty girl. Hot. But…I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about her. From the moment she shook my hand, it was like I was totally comfortable with her. Being an attorney has taught me one thing: trust no one. So normally, when I meet someone, I’m just waiting for their line of bullshit—and everybody has one. Everybody except this girl.

  When we were done, true to my word, I wrote out a check to the Peace Corps that matched the amount of the bill. The waiter gave us an envelope, and Casey had the address memorized so we were good to go. She was so grateful and happy—it was just adorable. Worth every penny. Yeah, I spent way more on this date than I did on any of those shallow gold-diggers, but this time it was different. It felt good. I need to remember to donate to more stuff, and not just for the tax break. I’d like to feel that good all the time.

  I did not want to say goodbye. Usually by the end of a dinner date, I don’t want to hear any more chatter, but this time, it felt like we’d just started talking.

  I was really surprised when she accepted my offer of a ride home. She seemed like the cautious type, but she just said, “Okay, thanks,” like she’d known me for years and had nothing to fear. We found an old-school mailbox and Casey jumped out of my new-old Prius to mail the check, showing off those heartbreaker long legs of hers in the process. Did I mention how hot this
girl was? When she was out of the car, I had to adjust the package so she didn’t think she was going to get attacked.

  I was shocked to hear her address.

  “No, that’s Addison Hill. Is there another Jackson Street?” I said.

  “I do live in Addison Hill,” she said, like it was nothing.

  “That’s so dangerous! There’s all kinds of gang activity, drugs, drive-bys—I can’t believe you live there.”

  “Lots of people live there, Mick, not just me.”

  “Aren’t you afraid? That place is like a war zone.”

  “I just came from an actual war zone in Ethiopia. There’s not a battle every day or anything, but there’s violence on the border all the time. Shepherds watch their herds with AK-47s. This neighborhood is pretty peaceful, by comparison.”

  “So, you’re not scared?”

  “Well, I didn’t say that,” she said softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

  “Then why do you live here?”

  She looked at me like I was insane. “It’s cheap.”

  “I know that, but you’re the director of the non-profit, right?” She had told me over dinner that she worked for a non-profit group that helped foster kids get services and stuff like that. “Certainly they pay you enough to afford to be safe.”

  “Ha. I’m the director of a tiny, underfunded non-profit. But yes, they do pay me enough to live someplace else, but I’m giving a chunk of my salary back, when I get my first check.”

  “Wait, what? Giving your salary back?”

  “There are a lot of things I’d like us to be able to offer the families that we can’t afford. It doesn’t do much, but every little bit helps.”

  I just sat there at the red light and thought about that. I had never met anyone who gave their salary back to their employer for any reason.

  She said, “You probably think I’m naive and ridiculous, right?”

  “No! Not at all! Idealistic is the word I would use. I just wish you could be safe and give the money back.”

  “Anyway, here we are. Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or anything?”

  She asked me, but then looked at her fingers, which were twisting together in her lap. Did she want me to come in or not? Well, I sure wanted to go in! Not to mention, get her to the door in safety. So I said, “Sure!” and locked the car up tight and we walked towards her place.

  Believe it or not, her neighborhood was totally posh about a hundred years ago. Casey’s place was once a mansion that was probably the latest, most luxurious thing you could buy at the time. And it was huge. I bet it had ten bedrooms, plus servants’ rooms on the top floor. But now, it was a shithole.

  The front walk was brick, laid in patterns, but now unevenly patched with concrete. One long tread was missing in the steps that led to the wide porch. Both of the tall windows on either side of the entrance were boarded up. There were double doors that were supposed to open inward, but one was nailed shut, and the other sagged on its hinges so that Casey had to push hard to open it. She just walked in.

  “No lock?” I said.

  “No. My own door has one, though.”

  The whole place was like that. Splendor in ruins. It made you sad to see it, honestly. Casey led me down a squeaky-floored hallway to her door. Which had a padlock on it, yes, attached to a thin and flimsy latch that would snap with one hard kick. I tried not to let my shock at all this show on my face. This girl lived in danger, slept in danger, every day and night of her life. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her from every bad thing in the world. It didn’t seem right that she had to come home every night to this sad, smelly, run-down old pile of bricks.

  Her apartment itself was completely different on the inside. It smelled nice, and I soon saw the source, a single hyacinth in a pot, blooming its pink heart out. Casey had used different kinds of cloth, clearly things she’d brought from Africa, to make the place vibrant and bright. Fabric was up on the walls and thrown over her couch, whatever she could do. A couple of small lamps shed a warm light on the bold printed fabric. The room had a lot of big windows, including French doors that led directly outside. I didn’t even want to think about what kind of locks they had on them. Even with good locks, all that glass was an open invitation to a thief—or worse.

  “Have a seat,” she said. “Would you like some wine?”

  I sat on her futon, gingerly once I noticed that one leg of it was held up with a can of tomatoes. “I’d love some. What kind is it?”

  “Red,” she said. What a funny girl. She went to the kitchen area—just a corner with a sink, stove, and mini fridge. I noticed that the faucet was dripping. She brought us each a juice glass full of wine and sat next to me on the futon.

  We both sat for a few seconds and sipped the wine. It was the first awkward moment of the night. Which is pretty good for a first date. Here we were, alone in her apartment. I felt like grabbing her and crushing her against me, but at the same time, like standing guard outside her apartment all night. Crazy, right?

  “So, do you—” she started.

  “Can I—” I said. “I’m sorry, go ahead.”

  “No, you.” The lamp beside her cast its light on her gorgeous hair, bringing out its deep red warmth, its glossy shine.

  She didn’t say anything so I said, “I know I asked this already, and you said you lived here because it was cheap. And I get that. But…. You’re a nice girl, a beautiful girl with a college education, and you’re…. Well, you’re living kind of rough. Don’t you—”

  “I know that to you, this seems like hell, but to me…. I just spent the last three years living in a hut with a thatch roof. My bathroom was a hole in the ground.”

  “No way. How did you manage?”

  She tilted her head, remembering. “It was hard to get used to at first. I mean really hard. The first month or two, I thought seriously about quitting because of it. I never felt really clean, and of course with no electricity, your normal entertainment is pretty much gone. But once I got used to it, it just seemed normal.”

  “That’s…. I don’t think I could do it. And I used to love camping and stuff.”

  “I know. I mean, yeah, I understand. With camping, you go home in a few days and take a hot shower.” She sipped her wine. “Just having a refrigerator to put food in, just being able to turn on the light…it’s wonderful.” She laughed. “Even indoor plumbing seems like a miracle.”

  “Still…. And I’m sorry to beat a dead horse, here. But I’m concerned for your safety. You said you grew up in this area. Can’t you live with your family for a while?”

  “Uh.” She took a gulp of her wine, finishing it. “I guess, but….”

  “You don’t get along?”

  “I wouldn’t say that, just we’re not close anymore. I’ve changed and my mom still thinks I’m about sixteen.” She forced a laugh, sounding truly uneasy for the first time. “The usual story, pretty boring.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, don’t worry about it.” She touched a drop of wine clinging to the rim of her empty glass. Her forefinger circled the rim, around and around.

  Maybe she was uncomfortable having me here. Just because I felt like I’d known her forever didn’t mean she felt the same way. She’d already been pretty daring by just asking me to come in. So I made myself say, “Casey, I hate to do this, but it’s getting late and I really should get home.”

  “Aw. I hate it too, but you’re right.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  A smile started in one corner of her mouth and grew to light up her whole face. She nodded.

  We both stood. I took her hand, feeling the need to touch her. Her eyes jumped to meet mine, almost like my touch was a jolt of electricity to her. Hers sure was to me. We were standing close together, and her face was tipped up to mine, and I wanted to kiss her so bad. It was ridiculous, but somehow I felt like she knew me right down to my bones and so I thought, what the hell. I kissed her.


  Her lips were soft. I could smell her hair or her perfume or some light flowery smell. I raised my free hand, just meaning to touch her hair lightly, but once it was there, my fingers plunged into her thick glossy hair like they had a mind of their own. It was like my body took over by instinct or something. My mouth was hungry for hers. My lips pulled at hers, and she opened to me. Her tongue was velvet on mine. My hand in her hair pulled her head closer and her body followed. We dropped our held hands and her arms went around me. Our bodies pressed together and I could feel the blood slam into my cock. For a second I wished it hadn’t, but then Casey pushed and lifted her hips, creating a delicious friction. I knew she could feel me against her belly.

  I thought, I do not ever want to let go of this girl. Almost as soon as I had the thought, though, she broke the kiss. We were both breathing fast, and I could feel my heart going a mile a minute. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling, and she looked like she’d just woken from a dream.

  “You’d better go,” she whispered.

  I nodded, touched her cheek for a second, and walked out the door.

  At the first red light I got out my phone. A law-school friend of mine was a real estate attorney, Julio. He was hungry, and that’s what I needed. I knew he’d still be working—it wasn’t even midnight yet.

  “Julio! Mick Branson. How are you doing, man?”

  “Mick! Long time, no see! I’m working my ass off, how are you? How does the other half live?” He laughed.

  “I don’t know, I’m working my ass off too. Listen, I have some work for you if you want it.”

  “Of course I want it, what is it?”

  “I want you to buy a building for me. 2512 Jackson, in the city.”

  “That’s Addison Hill, what do you want with a building in the battle zone?”

  “Don’t worry about it, just buy it.”

  “Is it for sale?”