My Hot Stepbrother: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  The wedding and the honeymoon, had been some of the happiest days of his life, and he could never recall a time when he'd been more satisfied or at peace with himself and his accomplishments.

  It had taken several months before he first started seeing things slipping into disarray.

  It had all started out small at first. There had seemed to be a sort of tension in the air, awkward and unpleasant, but without solid shape or mass. He supposed that it was probably nothing. He was coming down off of that first exquisite high, and settling into the routine of married life. It was wholly to be expected that he would someday have to come back down to Earth, and it was unrealistic of him to think that every day spent with Ashley could be a fairy tale.

  But the days that were down didn't seem to have their corresponding ups as he might have expected, and this began to worry him. Ashley gradually began to pay less and less attention to him. She became so caught up in her own affairs, and as seemingly fascinated with Henry and his life as she'd been when they first met, she now seemed not to give a damn what was going on with him, so long as it didn't affect the steady flow of his income into her purse.

  There were times when the old sweetness still showed through, but Henry had begun to detect its true thinness. She was proving herself far less capable of fooling him than she'd ever done in the past. Perhaps, before, she'd been constantly sweet because the thing she'd wanted had been more complete in nature- she'd wanted Henry himself, the complete and total man.

  Now, from her perspective, she had him under her thumb, and needed only to exercise that old sense of sweetness when she wanted something more tangible. She would give him a blowjob when she wanted money for something expensive, or treat him with extra syrupy kindness whenever it seemed clear to hear that he was beginning to lose his patience with her bullshit.

  Henry had gained the ability to read her and her actions like a book. The rational part of his mind now knew that this was all a matter of manipulation and playing his emotions to her personal advantage. And had he exercised the same pragmatic sense that had allowed the amassing of a billion-dollar fortune, he may have been capable of putting an end to it. He may have called off such an emotionally abusive relationship, and come away from it all with his life mostly intact.

  But this was a matter entirely too personal for him to be able to divorce his emotions from the delicacy of the situation. He was just too involved in it to let Ashley go so easily. Deep down, he desperately yearned for the version of her that had pretended to love him early on in the relationship. He succeeded in fooling himself, to some extent at least, into believing that those old, happy days might someday experience a welcome and long overdue resurgence.

  And so, he remained trapped in that loveless life with Ashley, dreading each and every day spent with her. Her very presence, at times, seemed to overwhelm him with negative emotions. All the fighting, the bickering, the scarcely concealed infidelities, and the manipulation to get what she wanted out of him, seemed too much for him to withstand. And that was on top of all the other bullshit he had to deal with throughout the course of any day.

  He just couldn't stand it anymore, and yet he felt as though he had no recourse. There was no one for him there should Ashley step out the door for good. She had majorly fucked with his brain, convincing him that the only thing anyone could be interested in him for was his money, and making him believe that he could no longer trust anyone outside of herself. And he knew he couldn’t really trust her. Not anymore.

  As much as he may have begrudged Ashley, and as miserable as her company frequently made him, what would he have left without her? The answer, he felt confidently, was next to nothing, and that was simply not a sacrifice he felt at all willing to make.

  So he continued to live his life in its miserable and hollow state, devoid of real joy or happiness. It was simply an exercise in endurance, waiting for something amazing to happen.

  And then one day, it did.

  It came in the most unexpected of ways, and left him stunned, and hopeful for the first time in as long as he could remember.

  Her name was Megan.

  Chapter two

  Henry’s wallet had been missing for about a week now. He'd given it up for gone, but couldn't decide how much trouble he should go to in tracking it down. He'd had some cash in there, but of course it was mere pocket change to someone like himself. He was more concerned about the cards he had inside, membership cards, his license, and other things, which were far more instrumental to his day to day life than a bit of extra cash. As soon as he’d noticed it gone, he’d called to cancel all of his cards. Now he had the pain-in-the-ass task of waiting for their replacements. It was ridiculous how much he depended on those little pieces of plastic.

  At the moment, he had so much else going on that thoughts of the lost wallet had all but left him, until one day there was a knocking on his door. One of his security guards announced to him that there was a woman at his gates, claiming to have found his wallet.

  “Really?” asked Henry, clearly skeptical. Anyone with an internet connection could have found out who he was with enough ease.. By his distrusting nature, he imagined there were few people out there who would have reservations about stealing a few spare bills from a man with such wealth as his. “Oh, well, please, invite her in,” he said, and he straightened up his clothes a bit, trying to make himself look presentable. He might as well see if she was for real.

  It was clear to him, as she stepped into his home that this girl was unlike most others. She seemed stunned as she took in her surroundings, craning her head around as though genuinely awestruck by what she saw. It was furthermore clear that this was a girl wholly out of place among such wealth and luxury as that which he possessed. This would have been clear from her demeanor alone, but it was a notion further reinforced by the relatively shoddy clothing she wore, looking as though they had had more than one owner.

  He was being judgmental, he knew, and that was wrong. Still, he couldn't help but wonder whether she begrudged him all of this, or whether she was now having second thoughts about returning his money. It was clearly nothing but a drop in the bucket to him, but surely, the amount in that wallet could have made a significant difference for her.

  “Good afternoon,” said Henry, trying to be courteous despite his fascination with this girl.

  “Hello,” said the girl sheepishly, and she flashed him a quick smile; there and gone again. Even from that fleeting glimpse at her teeth, though, it occurred to Henry that this woman was as beautiful as his wife, if not more. She could easily be a model herself had that been her lot in life, but he could see from her bearing that she possessed nothing of the same security as Ashley did about her looks. “I, um, I found your wallet on the street the other day. And I thought I should get it back to you.” she said.

  “I see,” said Henry, skeptical in spite of himself. She was clearly trying to be honest here, but he had such difficulty believing the pure intentions of her motives. He didn't say anything, but continued to look at her as she extended the wallet out to him, and averted her eyes to the floor. Henry slowly reached up and took the wallet, peering inside, and counting the money right in front of her.

  “I'm sorry it took me so long to get it to you. Everything's there, I just. had a pretty busy schedule, and I wasn't really sure how I could get it to you here,” she said, once again looking around.

  Henry was astonished to find that every last cent of his money was still in the wallet, along with every card and scrap of paper that he'd been missing in the ensuing week. Defying all expectations, he'd somehow managed to come across an honest human being. He looked up at her now, with curious eyes, and she smiled anxiously when she spotted his eyes lighting upon her own.

  “This was very honest of you. Thank you for bringing it to me.”

  “Oh, well, it's my pleasure,” she said, smiling, and still she seemed like she felt unworthy of facing him directly.

  He continued to study her
, and then extended a hand to her for her to shake.

  “It's Henry. Henry Jones, as I'm sure you already know by now from the wallet.”

  She laughed tensely. “Megan, Megan Williams.”

  Her hand felt soft and cool in his grip, and he wished he could retain her palm in his own for some time longer without things becoming awkward. He felt strangely fascinated with this woman, and a feeling that he'd not experienced in quite some time seemed to be welling up inside his chest.

  “Well, Megan, I really do appreciate this. Sincerely, I was becoming quite worried about it, and I'd feared that someone had stolen it and ran off with my money.”

  “Oh, well, nope,” she said, smiling, and Henry could tell she was having trouble knowing just what to say. Suddenly, though, her eyes caught on his for the first time in the duration of their visit together. They gazed fixedly into one another for a long, drawn out moment, each mesmerized by the other. But at last, predictably enough, it was Megan who shirked away, feeling overpowered and out of her league. She'd clearly made an impression on her host, and though she was flattered by even the faintest possibility that he may be displaying some interest in her, she knew that she was being absurd in even entertaining such a notion.

  Henry cleared his throat, trying to pick things back up after what had clearly been an awkward moment. He couldn't figure out just what was going on in his head, or how this stranger was having such a powerful effect on him. It was like the time he'd first met Ashley all over again, and he was hesitant to allow himself to fall back into that trap after having done so once, and still reeling from the effects of that first misstep.

  “If you'd care to have a seat, I can offer you a drink perhaps?” he tried.

  “Oh, no, that's really not necessary,” replied Megan briskly, sincerely wishing to do just that, but the butterflies in her chest too prohibitive to allow her to indulge such a luxury. “I actually need to get going here shortly. I have to work in about an hour, and I need to beat traffic across town.”

  “Oh, alright then, I understand. Well, here, let me at least compensate you for your trouble, and of course for your honesty.” Henry began to reach into the wallet, sifting through the bills once more, this time trying to decide what an appropriate reward might be for a favor of this magnitude.

  “No, please, I can't accept that,” she said, waving a hand in front of herself before he'd even removed the money from the inside of the wallet.

  “Really? Why not?” Henry asked, puzzled, further disbelieving that a human being such as this could still exist in this day and age.

  “It just wouldn't be right,” she said, brushing a hair from her face.

  “I don't see why not,” said Henry, feeling like an ass despite the fact that it was she who was refusing the reward money. He couldn't force her to take it, clearly, but he desperately felt a desire to show her how very much he appreciated her effort. “A lot of people would not have returned the money at all. They would have just kept the wallet. I think the fact that you returned it says something about you.”

  Megan twitched her lips in a way that made Henry burn with a craving to lean in and kiss them passionately in that moment. “Maybe,” she said, “maybe not. But that wouldn't be right either. It's your money. It belongs to you, and no one else, no matter who found it. I just wouldn't feel right about accepting it, I guess.”

  “I see,” said Henry, slowly re-inserting the cash into the wallet. “Well, very well then. I just want you to know that I'm very appreciative of you for returning it to me, and if you ever need a favor or anything-”

  “You're very welcome,” said Megan, interrupting him, and for the first time throughout the course of their meeting she flashed him a full, sincere smile, as though genuinely enthused at the fact of his appreciating her.

  It was in that moment, Henry realized looking back at the situation, that he began to genuinely fall in love with her. He stared, stupefied, for several seconds as he peered at her, and only very slowly forced himself to smile at her in return.

  There was a moment there, long and heated, in which it seemed as though things should have suddenly escalated between the two of them. Had it been a situation involving any two individuals who were less in control of their passions, the sexual tension would surely have burst over their heads at precisely that moment. But given their remarkable capacity for repressing things, neither of them allowed the moment to overwhelm them, and it passed along like a thundercloud, sweeping away, leaving them clear of any danger.

  Megan let out a shuddering breath, and once again her eyes were on the floor.

  “Well, then, I should really get going I think. I don't want to be late for work.”

  “No, no of course.” said Henry, trying not to let the extent of his disappointment show in his voice. “Well, thank you again, and it was an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

  “The same to you, Mister Jones,” she replied, bowing slightly, and it chewed him up inside to see her do so. She stepped toward the door, and he watched her go with an immense degree of sadness, hating himself for letting her slip through his fingers with nothing resembling a fight on his part.

  “Take care of yourself,” he added, and she turned to give him a last, nervous glance before vanishing, and leaving him alone with an immediate longing to see her again.

  Chapter Three

  Over the next several days, both Megan and Henry were on one another's minds far more than either of them could have imagined. Henry found himself foolishly swooning for this mystery girl, stumbling along the same avenues he'd once made his way through when first loving Ashley. His wife, for the next couple of weeks, was away doing an important photo shoot- and, if his suspicions were to be believed, screwing the director of the shoot all the while.

  Maybe it was time, he began to tell himself, for him to begin considering options for his love life outside the confines of his hollow and passionless marriage. Although most would have accused him of knowing next to absolutely nothing about this mystery girl Megan, that single meeting when she'd returned his wallet to him had spoken volumes as to her personality and character. He found himself largely consumed with desires for her that were almost excessive in nature.

  He longed for her, felt his heart aching with uncertainty as the time between their meeting and the present fell further and further apart, and he despaired with his inability to come up with some excuse for meeting her again.

  Megan, for her part, was entertaining similar fantasies, and her own emotional state could be said to be almost more conflicting than Henry's own.

  She'd done her best to move on with her day after their initial meeting, showing up on time to one of her three jobs which she kept in a desperate, insane effort to make ends meet and be able to afford rent. But her mind had scarcely been on her job as she went about her usual mundane tasks with a stunned look on her face, letting her fantasies take her into territories she knew were nothing short of pure delusion on her part.

  Her life, at times, seemed like absolute shit. She'd been born into circumstances that were in fact largely similar to Henry's own, but unlike Henry, she'd never had the proper luck or knowhow to make it anywhere near the point where he found himself. She'd always done her best in life, but still she found herself scarcely capable of getting by. She was so tired, so sick of her numerous jobs, her shitty co-workers, and the terrible treatment she endured. The long hours, the meager pay, and the extent to which people seemed willing to wring her dry for every cent they could possibly get out of her were sometimes overwhelming.

  Reasonably, she should have had no real impetus for returning that fucking billionaire's wallet to him. Surely, he wouldn’t have missed the relatively meager amount of cash contained in that wallet, and keeping the money would have eased the burden of her finances considerably in the coming weeks. Hell, for that matter even the reward money would have been a welcome boost to her income, had she accepted it.

  After turning it down, she found herself wa
nting to kick her own ass for doing so. There was no justifiable reason not to have accepted his offer, but even now she was certain that she would have done the same thing had he offered it again now. She was just too proud, she supposed; too unwilling to accept that which she hadn't earned as her own. She'd been stepped on enough in life that it had filled her with a strange morality about that sort of thing- she didn't take what she didn't earn, as stubborn and as resolute a notion as that may have been. She wouldn't want others to do so, and so she saw no right for her to take what didn't belong to her either.

  God, was she a moron sometimes.

  When the hell would she ever learn?

  But it wasn't just the money that was occupying her thoughts. Not at all. Mr. Jones, that illustrious billionaire who was worth infinitely more than she would ever be, filled up a great portion of her thoughts in the ensuing days as well. The way he had looked at her, over the course of their interaction... There had been something more in his eyes than simple gratitude, she felt certain. Frankly, she had to confess to herself, she'd felt a similar way in return to what she fancied he'd been experiencing in those long, hypnotized moments of silence.

  But even as she entertained the notion of some magical love connection between a poor girl and a wealthy billionaire, she chided herself for doing so on any number of levels. For starters, it was rather an ugly and exploitative notion. Surely she was just attracted to him for his money, after having lived a lifetime in poverty and becoming sick of her inescapable circumstances? She despised herself for the possibility that she had become this sort of woman, more interested in comfort and luxury than she was in finding the sort of person who could truly make her happy in life.

  Or had she, in fact, become this sort of woman?

  Perhaps she was becoming too hard on herself, and accusing herself of such attitudes without having any real reason or basis for doing so. She'd done nothing wrong, and wasn't it entirely possible that the strange and unpredictable feelings she felt for this man were more substantial in nature than simply revolving around money?