Stepbrother Charming

by Nicole Snow

  “Babe, come on...”

  No. I run the instant I hear his voice. I hop off the dance floor and push through tight crowds on my way to the table. Halfway there, I look over my shoulder and do a double take. The psycho bastard is actually chasing me.

  I can't believe he won't take the hint. Or maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he can't believe someone is actually saying no, showing him what a disgusting pig he really is.

  Reaching for my glass in the unlikely event I need a weapon, I spin around and face him, just as he reaches my table. “Look, Ty, I don't give a crap if you run this place. Stop following me. I'm not interested in you.”

  I almost choke when I say the last part. My brain agrees, but my body twists, calls me out as a liar.

  “Hold up. I'm sorry we went too fast. I didn't mean to make you scared. I just figured you were used to the business that goes down here between a man and a woman on a good night like this.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “There's something I gotta ask you...”

  For some reason, the gesture softens my heart a little. He looks genuinely hurt. I shouldn't be hearing another thing he has to say, but I sigh and lean in, letting him bring his lips close to my ear.

  “There's room for one more in my private suite, babe. You wanna be part of my first foursome?” He reaches around and cups my ass. “I wanna make these other sluts jealous when they see what we do. I'll fuck you 'til you scream and break their fucking eardrums.”

  That's when I lose it. My hand flies up and lands on his powerful jaw. I slap him as hard as I fucking can. Giving in to the urge feels incredible.

  I can hear the crack over all the club noises. His lips twitch and he steps backward, drawing one hand to the hot red welt blossoming on his cheek. It's like time locks up.

  For a second, we stare at each other. I swallow, knowing I'm in deep shit. But I wouldn't take it back for anything. Nobody treats me like this – especially not this pompous, strange prick who's obviously used to getting his way too much for his own good.

  Ty tips his head back and starts to laugh. I think I let a growl slip past my lips, wondering if he's some kinda sociopath. Nothing seems to get to him. Absolutely fucking nothing.

  “Asshole!” It tears out of my throat. Too bad it doesn't stop him.

  He's still going, chuckling dark and deep like I just leaned in and whispered the world's dirtiest joke.

  When he finally recovers, wiping his eyes, he reaches into his pocket and slams something down on the table. “Thanks for the laugh. You enjoy your evening, baby. Door's open upstairs anytime if you change your mind about that foursome.”

  He turns smartly and disappears back into the crowd. It's good he moves fast. I swear, one more second and I would've whipped the glass right at his stupid smug face. My heart's racing like mad, probably faster than it has since I gave up tennis my sophomore year.

  I need to sit. Sliding back into the seat, I set down my glass and reach for whatever he's left behind. I don't know why I bother.

  It's an envelope. When I crack it open, I gasp. Inside, there's at least three crisp one hundreds and a bunch of smaller bills. I consider stuffing it into my purse and taking off, leaving Dana a text to explain my disappearance whenever she's done with lover boy. But I promised we'd go home together, and I really don't want Ty the Jackass to ruin my last night clubbing with my best friend.

  I hold up a hand, waving a server over. Ten minutes later, I've got two fresh Long Island teas in front of me and a couple shots of high end vodka.

  “Fuck you, Mister-Asshole-Sterner,” I whisper, lifting the first crisp shot to my lips.

  I don't stop until the entire club is spinning.

  “Claire, holy shit!” Dana hisses. “You look like hell, girl.”

  I crack my eyes open and feel a cool compress sliding over my forehead. The first thing I smell is Dana's perfume, now mingled with the thorny scent of the emo kid. I look up and see her hair. It's all messed up.

  In my dumb state, there's a pang of jealousy. Why can't I walk out of a place like this just once with Dana's sex hair? Then I remember the only asshole who wanted to fuck me tonight, plus two other girls simultaneously.

  My head jerks. Dana leans down, wiping my brow like a concerned sister. I suppose she is.

  “Jesus! Take it easy.” She frowns. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here alone all night drinking?”

  “What time is it?” I groan.

  “Quarter to two. The bar's about to close. Hang on, I'm going to see if I can still get you some water!”

  I yell out to her, but she's moving too fast. Jesus, my head keeps pounding. I know I've been out at least an hour. Fastest, swiftest hangover in the world – just my luck, right?

  My stomach lurches as I stand up. I try to make it to the bathroom before she gets back, but it feels like my knees are jelly.

  I manage to make it just in time. The bathroom is halfway down a long hall with a big fancy burgundy door at the very end – probably leading to the kitchen or some VIP lounge. I wash my hands and stumble out, but not before I crash into the second asshole of the night.

  I look up. They say karma's a bitch, but I think it's deja vu.

  Ty's huge chest stops me like concrete, except this time it's almost bare. He's got a robe halfway open and draped around his shoulders. I catch a glimpse of some wild geometric designs going around his neck, above what looks like a tiger or panther in full roar on his breast.

  “Fucking shit. Didn't think I'd run into you again tonight, babe.”

  I barely stop myself from sticking my tongue out. “I didn't think so either – and I'm really sorry that I did.”

  Predictably, the bastard laughs. God damn it. The laugh I loved at first now just sounds like nails on chalkboard. Well, if scraping an old blackboard could be deep, sexy, resonating –

  Stop. I can't let myself think another positive thing about this royal dick.

  “Christ. I can smell the booze rolling off you, babe. You need a ride home or something?”

  I shake my head furiously. Big mistake. It only makes the pounding in my head worse. While I'm frozen, he reaches up and tucks a few stray hairs back against my ears.

  I'm drunk and hungover, but I'm not dead. My hand shoots up, pinches his forearm, and I rake my nails down him. Just like a feral cat.

  “Fucking hell!” Ty growls, steps back, and hits the wall. “Don't be a bitch. I was just trying to make sure you're –“

  “What? Okay? Yeah, I was, until you decided to get in my face tonight. You fucked up my last night in this city with my best friend!”

  He tries reaching for my shoulder, but I dodge him. Looks like I'm not the only one drunk tonight. Except there's the unmistakable smell of women all over him. Sickly sweet sex and perfume. He must've fucked them for hours.

  My stupid brain wants to think about it too, but I won't let it. I try to get away as fast as my feet will carry me.

  Then my heel catches on an unwieldy step going up the short staircase and I tumble.

  I brace myself for a lot more pain when I hit the floor – except it never comes.

  I fall right into his huge arms like a damned fairy tale. Okay, now I'm really pissed.

  Ty flattens me against the wall as I fling my elbows against his hard abs, screaming my frustration. It doesn't faze him.

  “Shhh. Quiet, babe. Just relax.” His voice rolls low, soothing, dangerously close to my ear. “Let me walk you out for a taxi. Just need to get a shirt on. I never got your name.”

  “No!” Hellfire flows through my elbows again, and I stab him in the guts, as hard as I can.

  I can't even hope to hurt him. I don't care if he's trying to help. I don't trust this jackass, and I need to get away before he drives me insane. I shove my elbows into his rock hard abs two more times, squirming like a madwoman.

  He's just stunned enough to let me go, and I practically crawl up the stairs. For some dumb reason, I stop and look back, using the banister to get back on
my feet.

  There's a wicked sneer twisting his lips. He looks at me like something he's just stepped in, shakes his head, and shrugs. “Fine, babe, do it your way. Go the fuck home. Get some sleep.”

  My stomach heaves. I'm terrified I'm about to lose the liquor left in my belly all over the place. I fight back the urge to vomit and watch him stomping back to his room.

  I feel like total shit. I've made an ass of myself way too many times tonight, even if it was partially this dickhead's fault. I call out to him and stumble forward, back down the stairs, before I know what I'm doing.

  “Wait!” My voice echoes down the long corridor.

  He stops when he's almost to the burgundy door and turns, waiting for me. “Is there any way I can hit you back for the money? I spent it, and I shouldn't have.”

  Brutal guilt. Shame. Typical for a Frost girl, especially one who grew up seeing her mom slandered every two years for re-election. But I don't want to owe this fucker a dime, even if we're talking about my own internal good karma counter instead of money.

  “You don't owe me shit,” he growls. “I paid you for the laugh, just like I said. No different than any other entertainment tonight. You wanna give me something? Go home and rest like I told you. You're not Club Zing material.”

  “You're not my boss.” I try not to shake my head, though it's impossible when this ham-fisted apology is the dumbest idea in the world. “I just want you to know I'm not a bitch. I'm not a bad person.”

  He looks me up and down. Slowly. His eyes zero in on my cleavage, and I flush.

  “Does that mean you changed your mind about the foursome?” He steps close, and next thing I know, I'm back against the wall. Fighting but not really fighting as he moves in for a kiss. “Shit, I'd settle for one on one at this point. Drunk and pissed, you're still fucking hot.”

  Hot. Nobody's ever called me that before. It's the only explanation for why I let his vile lips connect with mine.

  This isn't a kiss. This is a fucking explosion on my lips. My entire body tenses up, muscles clench, everything below the waist writhes like I'm made of snakes. I moan just as he presses his tongue in my mouth.

  Of course, I've read about sexual tension in books and seen it on the big screen. I just didn't think it really happened, not like this animal spark igniting between us.

  His tongue twines with mine and his lips move rougher, faster. My palms are on his back and my fingers go jagged, tearing at the skin underneath his thin robe. I can't decide if I want to hurt him or make him fuck me.

  The unbelievable hard-on I feel grinding on my thigh definitely says he's willing.

  I'm about to come completely undone when my legs kick hard. I knock my knees on his and shove my hands to the wall, twisting and flattening myself, crazy to get away before I do something I'll really regret. The other shit that's happened tonight is an afternoon sprinkle compared to this hurricane staring me down.

  “Don't!” I yell, pushing against him when he comes close. “Really. I mean it. This was all a mistake...I need to go.”

  “That's not what your body says, babe. I know a girl who wants to fuck when I see one. Hell, I can taste how bad you want it.”

  I run. This time, I don't stop. I'm like a hummingbird darting up the stairs and through the bar, grabbing Dana by the wrist.

  “Hey! I've been wondering where the hell you went. I've got your water if you want to down it before they –“

  “We need to go. Right now, Dana. Now, now, now,” I whisper, urgent as all hell. “Let's find a cab.”

  The rest of the night happens in a blur. Dana makes me crash at her apartment, and she doesn't let me sleep until I take a multivitamin and swallow three huge glasses of water.

  I keep telling her I'm okay. I whisper something about a guy being too aggressive, too close to me when I'm drunk off my ass.

  I don't dare tell her it's Ty, or that I practically invited the last collision with the sex-crazed jackass.

  I'm already stuck in enough crap. I can't imagine telling her how good his lips tasted on mine.

  At some point, she stops interrogating me and throws a blanket over me as I'm lying on her couch. I pass out and sleep like the dead until my phone screams me awake in late morning.

  “Claire, it's Mom. Just making sure we're still on for lunch?”

  Of course we are. The universe has decided to make me pay for last night.

  I inwardly groan, wishing I could pass out for a few more hours. I'm alone in Dana's place. My friend went out shopping and left me an extra key to lock up if I decide to leave, as the note on the counter says.

  “Yes, mom. I'll be there.”

  “Oh, good!” her high, almost sing-song voice makes my ears ring. “Don't be late. I've got some huge news to tell you.”

  Huge? As if big isn't enough? I hope to God she isn't going to say she's launching her Senate run early. I can't deal with the stress of that, especially the media storm it'll bring, when my first summer as a real adult has barely started.

  “Honey, what's wrong?” Mom pauses, oh-so-concerned. I'm surprised she can't smell the vodka through the phone.

  “Late night with Dana. Nothing to worry about. I'm just shaking off all the fun.”

  “Claaaire.” She clucks her tongue in that haughty, disapproving way she's always done. “You need to start taking better care of yourself. You're out of college now. When I was your age, I was struggling just to keep my head above water. I didn't have time for all night drunken –”

  Blah, blah. Fuck you. And blah.

  Shaking my head, I slam my phone at the edge of the sink and wash up, listening to her lecture me about all the thrills and dangers of being a young woman. I want to cut the speaker phone, or else drown the fucking thing in the sink.

  “Mom, I know. I hear you. Let's not talk about this, okay? I really want to have lunch and figure out the ride back to Tacoma. I haven't seen you for a while, and I actually want to. I just don't want you treating me like a total idiot.”

  “Yes, Tacoma...” She trails off oddly, and I don't really understand why.

  Maybe admitting she actually counts freezes her cold in her tracks. Mom and I haven't really been close since I was a teenager. Her last couple terms in Congress were a blur. There wasn't much hanging out with her staying in DC half the year while I was stuck here for school.

  Then when she left the US House and came home, she was always busy with something, and I can't say the desire to reconnect has been crazy pressing until now.

  “All right. You know I'm only hard on you because I love you.”

  “I know. So, Carbonari's at one?”

  “No, no. I thought we'd try something new. There's this great new wine bar a little north of the city.”

  She gives me the name and I almost fall over. It's a budget buster for me, and way beyond anything my frugal-minded mom normally indulges too.

  Damn, now I really know she's contemplating that early Senate campaign. She's going to bribe me to soften the blow.

  “Okay, I'll be there. Uh, you're paying, right?”

  I exhale relief when she says yes, because I'd be going home hungry if she wasn't. It's a miracle I'm not ass deep in loans like my friends, but hitting the classes hard hasn't left me much time to work, and my bank account looks really pale.

  Slipping out of Dana's apartment, I lock up and slide the key back underneath the door. Then I'm in my car, struggling for oversized shades to blot out the blinding sun.

  My eyes don't want to let go of what happened last night. They're throbbing like mad, making me re-live all the stupid memories at Club Zing. My mind won't get off him the whole way to the wine bar.

  I can't believe I kissed a total asshole. And I definitely can't believe I let him put his hands all over me, however brief. Jesus, what would've happened if I'd been so fucking drunk I said yes to Ty's gross advances?

  Shaking my head makes my eyes feel better, so I'm practically swaying to the music buzzing out my radio the who
le trip. Last night needs to be my last big drinking binge ever. A tall order, I know, because right now a glass or two of wine sounds awfully good, if only to take the edge off.

  The place is even fancier than I thought. If it's not the Senate campaign, I wonder if she hit big in Vegas. Mom was gone there for a whole month up until my graduation. She's a gambler by nature, which I guess is what makes politics so appealing.

  I can't say I'm immune to the same adrenaline rush – and certainly not to finer things. When I walk into the place, it's heavenly. The light potpourri of high-end wines blends with well-cooked steaks and starters. My stomach growls something fierce, reminding me I haven't eaten since a quick dinner last night, before meeting up with Dana.

  “Honey! There you are!”

  I turn toward Mom's voice and see her sitting in a stylish tall booth. And – what the hell? – she's not alone.

  I can't get a good look at the guy next to her until I slide into the free seat. When I do, he looks vaguely familiar, but my brain can't place him. He's about her age, broad shouldered and generally well built with just a hint of a gut. His face is nice, except he's rocking some thick ass glasses that make him look like my Chem 101 professor.

  “Claire, this is –“

  “Gary Sterner.” He smiles, jabs his hand toward me. I take it, and he gives me a powerful shake. “I sincerely hope this isn't too rattling for you. Your mother assured me this would be the best way to make an introduction, so...here I am!”

  I can tell by the way he's talking that this guy is a blend of distinguished rich guy and slightly awkward nerd. My stomach starts to tighten up when I think about why the hell's he's here at all.

  “Don't tell me...this is your new campaign manager?” I blurt it out and guzzle water. Jesus, my throat's so dry from last night.

  I just want to get this disaster over with, and find out how royally fucked our family's going to be for the next year.

  Mom laughs, loud and a little childish. She gives my question a big fat no by wrapping her arms tight around the rich geek's neck – way closer than anything that would be professional or platonic.