by Alice Moore
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Risha
Chapter Two: Risha
Chapter Three: William
Chapter Four: Risha
Chapter Five: William
Chapter Six: William
Chapter Seven: Risha
Chapter Eight: Risha
Chapter Nine: William
Chapter Ten: Risha
Chapter Eleven: William
Chapter Twelve: Risha
Chapter Thirteen: Risha
Chapter Fourteen: William
Chapter Fifteen: Risha
My Billionaire Step Dad
A BILLIONAIRE SECRET BABY ROMANCE
ALICE MOORE
Copyright © 2017 Alice Moore - All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
Contents
1. Chapter One: Risha
2. Chapter Two: Risha
3. Chapter Three: William
4. Chapter Four: Risha
5. Chapter Five: William
6. Chapter Six: William
7. Chapter Seven: Risha
8. Chapter Eight: Risha
9. Chapter Nine: William
10. Chapter Ten: Risha
11. Chapter Eleven: William
12. Chapter Twelve: Risha
13. Chapter Thirteen: Risha
14. Chapter Fourteen: William
15. Chapter Fifteen: Risha
Epilogue: Risha
About the Author
Chapter One: Risha
Staring down at my phone with wide eyes, I squeezed the flimsy device and clenched my teeth to hold back my groan. Beyond my small desk the office was quiet, and I didn’t want to disturb Anthony and his new, shifty client. Curling up in my chair, I struggled to take a breath through my clogged throat as annoyance threatened to choke me.
“What the Hell, Mom… I told you not to call me at work.” Whispering angrily, I reached to tuck my hair behind my ear, giving me a clear side view of the office. “You know my boss doesn’t tolerate it.”
“Risha, honey, there’s no need to be so uptight. I called because it’s important.” A harsh sigh escaped me; there wasn’t anything in my mother’s life that was important as most people defined the word. When she stayed quiet I unfurled my body, leaning back in my wheeling chair to spin in slow circles.
“Well spit it out, Mom. I’m working, remember- one of us has to.” My harsh snap only produced a sigh across the line, and I rolled my eyes. She could never just get right to the point, my mother; everything deserved a grand entrance.
“I’m calling to tell you I won’t be around on Wednesday. William’s taking me to this big, important charity auction for breast cancer.” A frown twisted my features, and I held back an irritated noise.
“You called me for that? Mom, I don’t care about your little sugar daddy or what event he invites you to. Do. Not. Call. Me. At. Work. Understand? Don’t call me unless you’re in trouble, or hurt, or anything serious.” Carefully punctuating my message, I hung up without waiting for a reply to lean back in my chair. My gaze flittered over the paperwork I had been sorting, and I scowled at the innumerable lines of interviews.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I raked my hand through my hair before haunching over my work. I didn’t enjoy paperwork, but I liked to be tidy. Anthony had such bad chicken scratch handwriting he couldn’t even read it, and it’d take me hours to decipher. Frankly it was the perfect distraction I needed to forget my mother’s bothersome interruptions.
When I glanced at the clock on my computer it was nearing 5p.m., and I flexed my hands absently. The all-in-one station was sleek, but really it was just a glorified alarm clock for a good 75% of the time. Anthony demanded hard paper copies as well as digital records, and translating his gibberish took much longer than typing it.
Of course, the downside was that I couldn’t type what I couldn’t read, and I usually had to make sure I hadn’t misinterpreted anything.
“Risha, I thought I told you t-“ Snatching a sheath of paper, I wordlessly held it up as Anthony came strutting out of his office.
“Already done, just waiting for you to make sure I translated your handwriting properly. You can stop talking to me like I’m a fresh intern, you know.” My griping cut my boss off, and I glanced up from the computer screen as Anthony reached to take my offering. A tight smile stretched his lips, eyes apprehensive as if he was really starting to feel the effects of not having a partner.
Why doesn’t he have a partner? Because he’s the work equivalent of a college frat jock in his first year without his mommy.
“Did you do th-“
“Yes, I did the prison interviews, too. Anthony- seriously, I’ve been working for you for a year and a half. I know how you like your paperwork.” Frowning down at me, Anthony grunted as he flipped through the folder. Watching him never ceased to fascinate me, and I watched him lean back on his heels through narrowed eyes. I had never, ever met a person so damn smart, and if he wasn’t such a controlling slob his brains would’ve been attractive. It didn’t help that he was an incredible 6’8” tall- much too lanky and elbowed for me. Being around him reminded me of my freshman year of high school; my growth spurt had hit me hard right as winter break was coming on.
“I also need tho-“
“I sent your partner interviews to your e-mail, your lunch tomorrow with Patterson is set, and I’ll order your special vegan whatever it is from Pergini’s before I go. Anything else?” Deep, dark brown eyes scanned me, and I clasped my hands on my desk to stare at Anthony’s perplexed expression. “You pay me 33$ an hour. The least I can do is remember your go-to overnight meal.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not included in my partnership contract, Risha. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Remind me to give you a good Christmas bonus.” Cocking my head at the praise, I smiled at Anthony’s sincere words; it wasn’t often he uttered them to me. Carefully he tucked the folder beneath his arm with thin, knobby fingers, and I pushed myself to my feet before offering a reply.
“I think I will remind you. I’m going to head out for the night, but text me if you need me.” Waiting for Anthony to nod, I grabbed my purse to let out a pleased sigh. Absently he wandered back to his office, and I put my computer to sleep before sliding out from behind my desk. Today had been better than I expected considering Anthony had a big case coming up. Usually he was cranky and demanding, unable to do anything for himself as he fretted over his presentation like a college freshman.
Stepping out onto the cold street, I hugged my coat tightly to my body as the wind cut through the darkness. Snow sprinkled from the sky, and I tilted my head to savor the cold burn on my cheeks. The air smelled heavy and pure, and a small smile picked up my mouth before I slowly wandered down the sidewalk.
Despite the darkness that engulfed
my world the streetlamps had just been flicked on, their beams still soft and weak enough not to hit the concrete. White flakes floated around me, absorbing the sounds of cars as they rolled much slower than the speed limit. In a mere few hours the city would be covered in white, but right now the tiny crystals couldn’t even stick to the wet pavement.
Scraping the soles of my low heels on the welcome mat splayed across the landing, I dug my keys out of my purse with a lightness in my heart. Light, white huffs escaped me with each breath, and I shoved my key into the hole before glancing behind me. The snow had started in earnest, a thin layer coating the sidewalks that made walking hazardous.
“I need to get a dog or something.” Muttering to my empty, dark home, I strode on tired legs into the kitchen to set down my purse and hang my keys. Ever since leasing this apartment I’d wanted a dog, but I didn’t have the time to train it. If there was one thing Anthony hated, it was a lack of punctuality. There were no excuses that would dull the verbal beating he’d give me if I was late simply because I had to wait for my dog to use the bathroom.
Flipping on the television in the living room, I watched the news absently through the breakfast nook. Pouring myself a glass of wine, I took the fruity smell deep into my lungs before letting it out in a gust. Slow evenings were commonplace, and I took a sip of my red before setting down my glass to start dinner.
A melodic chime filled my home, and I turned away from my chicken parmesan to watch Cynthia hustle through the front door. Her short, curvy frame was hidden under a thick snow coat, and I could help but smirk at how unflattering she looked. With harsh breaths she swiped away her short, curly bob of brown hair roughly, kicking the door shut. Round, thick cheeks glowed red, and her eyes shone as she shirked off her coat.
“I hate my hair. It sticks to my face and I’m just- ugh! I’m going to shave it off!” The complaints pulled a laugh from me, and I grabbed a second wine glass as Cynthia sauntered through the open plan living room. “Why are you laughing? This is serious, Risha.”
“I know you hate it, but just be patient and it’ll grow back.” My gaze scanned Cynthia’s form, and in my mind my mother’s call floated back to the surface. “So… my mother got invited by her boy toy to a breast cancer charity auction. Have you heard anything about it?”
Pouring my friend a healthy glass, I paused my question carefully as my eyes lingered on Cynthia’s chest- or what used to be her chest. Now she was flat as a board after her mastectomy; her perfectly round, firm bust that she’d prided herself on was completely gone. Snorting roughly as I passed her the glass, she shook her head before gulping down her wine smoothly.
“Hell no. You do know that no one actually cares about breast cancer survivors themselves- just the idea that breast cancer can be the one.” Disgust laced Cynthia’s voice, and she grabbed the long neck of the wine bottle to pour herself more. “If you ask me it’s just an excuse for rich people to look good because they donated.”
“I agree. I only ask because my mother said it’s on Wednesday, and I know you have your thing on Wednesday.” Taking a sip from my glass, I turned back to dinner only to find water boiling in its pot. Carefully taking the long, dried strands of spaghetti in both hands, I snapped them in two before tossing them in. Against my back Cynthia’s gaze bored holes, and the hairs on my neck stood up the longer the silence went on.
“Are you trying to suggest that we should go to your mom’s little bitch party instead of spending all night at a therapy support group?” Her smile floated to me in her words, and I half shrugged as steam billowed up in my face. “You are! I don’t even care if it’s because you want to meet your mom’s boy toy- imagine the food they’ll serve! Oh shit- maybe I’ll even meet a celebrity and be on tv!”
“I do not want to meet him. I just thought that maybe it’d be a good idea to actually have someone there that actually had breast cancer. It’ll be my gift to the silver screen.” Lying through my teeth, I twisted to watch Cynthia shake her head, her short hair flying every which way. She was even more beautiful now than she’d been before, and back in high school she was flawless. Our senior class had named her ‘Most Likely to be Experimented on as a Perfect Human Example’, after all.
Just goes to show how weird our high school was, but they’re not wrong.
“Yeah right, Risha- say whatever you want. I’ll tell Karen right now that we can’t make it, so there’s no backing out of this. We’re definitely going.” Smiling brightly as I stirred the pasta, I turned back to the stove while Cynthia busied herself with her cell phone.
All of our years of friendship flashed in my mind’s eye; from the moment we met in sixth grade we were inseparable. When my mom really started to indulge in her bad habit Cynthia was there for me, offering me a place to go to get away from it.
The expression on her face when we learned she had Stage 3 breast cancer lingered in my field of vision, coming face to face with what she looked like now. She had no hair, no breasts, and was in and out of the hospital for eleven months, but never once did she give up. I wished I had the courage she had; maybe then I’d be able to cut my mother out of my life for good.
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Chapter Two: Risha
“What do you think, Risha?” Carefully sliding in my earrings, I peered past my reflection as Cynthia draped herself elegantly along my door frame. Her sleek, ruby red dress clung to her form, and a pair of black heels gave her the few inches she needed to pull it off. The slit up her leg revealed a tantalizing view of her thigh, and I secured my jewelry before shaking my head.
“I think everyone will be too busy looking at your butt to realize you don’t have boobs anymore.” Giggling as she stuck out her tongue, I picked at my hair for a moment before turning to her fully. “Seriously, though- you look beautiful. You always look beautiful, Cynthia.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure about it because it sags a little where my tits are supposed to be, but the lady at the store gave me this awesome trick to fix it.” Slowly Cynthia’s eyes scanned my form, and I held my breath behind my pale lipstick. “You should give yourself more credit, you know, Risha. No matter how skinny I got, I still had a pouch. Hell, my body was basically killing me and I couldn’t get rid of my belly fat.”
Glancing down, I blushed hard at the compliment as I took myself in. I’d worn this dress for a wedding, but it was comfortable and stylish, so I kept it. The cream bodies sparkled with a light coating of lavender colored, fake crystals, and the skirt draped down to my feet in the same way.
“Thanks. Are you ready to go? My mom said it starts at 6:30.” Quietly Cynthia nodded, and I strapped a thin watch to my wrist before making my way out of my bedroom. My duplex home was too big even for the both of us, and I flicked off my bedroom light with a slight frown. Passing by the guest bedroom, I pursed my lips together tightly at the notion that it’d never be filled.
I could afford this place on my own, but I didn’t want to be alone. Cynthia and I didn’t have any friends we could tolerate enough to ask to move in, either. Living here was a catch-22.
“So, what do you think they’re going to serve there? I’ve been dying for some seafood lately.” Humming in acknowledgment, I carefully backed out of the space Cynthia had parked in to roll out of the driveway. Snow piled high on the edge of the concrete slab, and I nibbled my lip in concentration as I tried to avoid skimming the banks.
Those kids didn’t do a good job at all. It’s a good thing I didn’t have much cash on me yesterday.
“… I’m sure there’ll be shrimp, at least. I mean, these people must’ve spent a lot on this event- it only makes sense that they’d get a good variety of food.” G
lancing at Cynthia as she stared dreamily out the window, I resisted the urge to giggle at the longing in her reflected eyes. Chemotherapy had really shown her the importance of good food, and now she never stopped thinking about it. Fast food was a thing of the past, and food she used to hate she would try.
“I hope it’s not just a bunch of finger food and stuff. I want a real lobster. Or maybe some scallops. Did you say that restaurant on Park and 5th had amazing scallops?” Nodding firmly, I kept my eyes on the road while Cynthia rambled on and on about what she expected to be at this party. Nervousness nibbled at my gut, and I gnawed on my inner cheek absently.
Part of me knew this was a mistake; I knew what I’d be seeing. My mother would be standing there next to some hot, rich asshole that didn’t understand the idea of moderate consumption. She’d play herself up to be so sweet, but the reality was she’d just manipulate her way into his pockets.
“You’re going to break the wheel if you keep squeezing it like at, Risha.” Blinking as Cynthia’s voice pulled me to the present, I flexed my fingers only to find them stiff. Glancing at her understanding, sweet expression, a weak, guilty smile stretched my lips. “Do you want me to drive?”
“No. Sorry…” Focusing on the road through narrowed eyes, I shook my head slightly at the offer. “I’m good. I think I’m just nervous because I’ve never met one of my mom’s boyfriends in such a public place before.”
“No sweat… not that I understand what you’re going through. It must suck ass to know your mom’s a slut even though she’s a nasty, grouchy, two-timing-“