Step Scandal - Part 1
Page 1
STEP
SCANDAL
Part 1
ROSSI ST JAMES
COPYRIGHT 2015 ROSSI ST JAMES
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher or author. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or received an advanced copy directly from the author, this book has been pirated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
DEDICATION
This one’s for my readers! Love you ALL! ;)
xoxo,
Rossi
OTHER BOOKS BY ROSSI ST JAMES
Biker Stepbrother 1
Biker Stepbrother 2
Biker Stepbrother 3
CRAVED (By the Alpha Billionaire #1
CLAIMED (By the Alpha Billionaire #2)
CHERISHED (By the Alpha Billionaire #3)
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DESCRIPTION
At the ripe, young age of just twenty-four, Harper Bliss is officially an aging pop star. Her label has just dropped her and she can’t book an acting gig to save her life. On top of it all, her mother and stepfather, who happen to be Hollywood royalty, are going through a bitter divorce battle and have little time to help her revive her career.
Harper needs a scandal. A salacious, jaw-dropping, attention-grabbing scandal that will reignite her career faster than you can say publicity stunt.
So that’s when she calls in a favor from her estranged stepbrother, Xavier Fox. Though they never really got along growing up, Xavier agrees to help. Guarded and temperamental, he has his reasons.
The plan? A fake relationship. Three months. Kissing on camera only. No tongue. No sex. All for show. What could possibly go wrong?
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Part 1 of 3 in a new mini serial. Contains a cliffhanger and adult content. Approximately 50+ pages.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ONE – HARPER
TWO - XAVIER
THREE - HARPER
FOUR - XAVIER
FIVE - HARPER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SAMPLE – CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE #1
ONE
Harper
“You’ve aged out, honey,” my personal assistant, Elijah said as he filed his nails. His pristine Gucci boots, bought and paid for courtesy of the generous salary I’d bestowed upon him, rested atop my crushed velvet ottoman.
“I’m only twenty-four. There’s no way. That can’t be it.” I paged through the latest issue of Celebrity Weekly magazine and rattled off three pop stars that graced their pages that were at least a few years older than me.
“One had twins via surrogate. One’s getting divorced from her 80 year old shipping magnate husband. And another had a very public nervous breakdown where she shaved off all her hair.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Harps. I love you to death, but you’re kind of boring. I say that with love.”
My phone buzzed on the sofa beside me. Another text from my agent about yet another acting gig I didn’t book. “I don’t understand how two years ago, there wasn’t enough of me to go around, and now I’m chopped liver. I can’t even book a Lifetime movie.”
Making the transition from music to acting seemed like a no brainer when my record label dropped me. I had the connections. I had the chops. I’d studied with the best acting coaches. And being the daughter of legendary stage and screen actress Sharon Bliss should’ve at least opened a few doors.
“You’re too wholesome,” Elijah said, scrunching his face at me. “I think that’s your problem. It’s because everyone remembers you from that mouse-eared show. And then you did that whole stint about saving yourself for marriage and being all wholesome.”
“That was not my idea. You know that. The record label wanted to pitch me as this modern-day, pure-of-heart pop star.” I shook my head. I never should’ve listened to them, but at the time they were dangling a multi-million dollar contract over my head and the pen was in arm’s reach. I’d have done just about anything back then to launch my career. “Had I known I was selling my soul at bargain-basement prices back then, I’d have gone a completely different route.”
All I ever wanted was to make a name for myself and step out from under the Sharon Bliss umbrella.
“People got bored with the whole sexy virgin act,” Elijah stated matter-of-factly as he slicked his hand over the shaved side of his blond head. “It was cool for, like, a hot minute and then people moved on. What does the incomparable Sharon Bliss think?”
Elijah was obsessed with my mother and had gone to see all of her Broadway shows. He was also the proud owner of every movie my mother had ever starred in on Blu Ray. My mother ate him up, and I was pretty sure she liked him more than she liked me. If Elijah was a fine face cream, she’d have bathed in him and then slathered him all over her body.
I tried talking to her about it, but all I got was an unsympathetic, “That’s Hollywood.” It was easy for her to say. She had decades long, indestructible career that started before I was even an idea in her self-centered little brain. My mother loved two things in this world: her career and herself. She never had to worry about where her next job was coming from.
“I tried to talk to her about it the other night,” I sighed, recalling how distant she was as she frantically polished her Oscars and Emmys the night Conrad left her. She still refused to take off her 20-carat, canary yellow, diamond wedding ring. Sharon Bliss never handled rejection well. “She’s too wrapped up in her divorce right now to even attempt to give a rat’s ass about my flailing career.”
“I still can’t believe she’s divorcing Conrad.” Elijah set the nail file down and grabbed his bottle of water. “You don’t hear about many marriages lasting longer than theirs did. Not in this industry, honey.”
“Conrad was a saint for putting up with my mother for twenty years,” I said. “I think he just got sick of her.”
“What about that stepbrother of yours? How’s he taking the split?”
“Xavier?”
“Yeah, the big, muscle-y one with the tattoos on his chest and the brooding personality. The one who never says much when he’s around because he’s too busy being the world’s biggest asshole.”
I shrugged. Xavier was like one of those complicated 3-D puzzles with a million pieces that only incredibly smart people knew how to put together. He was a couple years older than me, but growing up, he’d lived full-time with his mother so I only saw him on special occasions. I’d booked the mouse show when I was twelve, and after that I saw him maybe a handful of times during the year as I was always busy working.
“He hates Conrad,” I chuckled. “That’s the one thing I know about him. Like hates him with a passion. He doesn’t come around much because of that. I’m sure he’s thrilled about the divorce. He didn’t much care for Mom either. Or me. Hell, he’s probably out having a cold one right now.”
“At least someone’s having some fun,” Elijah said as he leaned over and pinched me on the shoulder. He stood up and walked his water bottle to the trash. “I’m bored. Let’s go do something. You’re such a homebody, and you’re depressing me. I’m about to have to double up on my Zoloft. Let’s live a little.”
“I don’t feel li
ke going anywhere. You know the other day someone asked me if I was Christina Aguilera?”
“Whaaa?”
“She’s ten years older than me,” I said. “We might look alike if you squint really hard. But my point is, people are starting to forget who I am, Elijah. Five years ago, I couldn’t go anywhere without a team of bodyguards and a crazy fan mob chasing after me. Now I’m just one of those people who used to be famous and who people constantly mistake for other, more famous people.”
“Okay, Harps, but don’t you kind of think back then it might have also been ‘cause you were dating Hayden McDaniel? I mean, he was – and still is – one of the biggest actors in Hollywood. And you were this budding little pop star who happened to be on his arm at every event. I think you ended up in the tabloids more because of your relationship with Hayden than because of your music.” His shoulders shrunk in, as if he were afraid to have hurt my feelings. “I’m just being honest.”
“I know.” I rested my chin against my hand and glanced out the window toward the sparkling infinity pool in my backyard. For 24, I’d certainly accomplished a lot. But I’d barely scratched the surface of what I wanted to achieve. Hollywood was a bunch of people climbing and crawling to reach the top of this ridiculously tall mountain, and if you gave up, even more people trying to get to the top buried you. It didn’t take long for people to forget all about you, and if enough years passed, you became a nostalgic relic. An icon. And then no one took you seriously. “You’re probably right.”
“What if you and Hayden pretended to get back together?” Elijah wrinkled his nose. “That would generate a little buzz. Maybe get you back on the radar a little bit?”
“Hayden and I had a horrible break up. You know that.” Just the mere mention of Hayden McDaniel made me feel sick to my stomach, dizzy with wistful excitement, and punched in the gut all at the same time. He was my first love. We dated for two years, and our demise really did a number on me. “I can’t talk to him again. It’s not an option. Absolutely not. Next…”
Elijah snorted as his lips curled into a devious smirk. “Do you trust me?”
“Trust you? Yes, of course. Why?”
“I have an idea.” He rubbed his manicured hands together like a young, hot, and unapologetically gay Dr. Evil and did a tiny hop before skipping back to the sofa. “We have to create a scandal.”
“What kind of scandal?”
“We need to create some kind of rumor about you that will have people talking about you. I’m talking, your face plastered on every page of every tabloid, every gossip website talking about you, and your name in the snarky little mouths of every pop culture loving American with a social media account.”
“I don’t want to do anything that would offend anyone,” I objected, raising my hands in the air. “I don’t want to be controversial.”
“Ugh,” Elijah groaned. “Work with me here. You said you trusted me.”
“I do.”
“As I was saying… We just need to create some kind of buzz surrounding you. How do you feel about contacting your stepbrother?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know. I might still have his number. I think he hates me though.”
“Perfect. Call him.”
“And say what?”
“You and Xavier are going to be Hollywood’s next “It” couple!” He clapped his hands like a giddy schoolgirl.
“That’s disgusting. No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing that. And I doubt he’d ever agree to it anyway.”
“You don’t have to, like, really date him or fuck him or anything. Ew. It’s all for show. Just make a few appearances together. Little closed-mouth kisses here and there. Make it look like you’re dating, and then when people start speculating about it, deny the hell out of it. It’ll drive people crazy. They’ll be dying to know what the hell is going on between the son and daughter of Sharon Bliss and Conrad Fox. I mean, I have to say your parents’ divorce is really perfect timing. It really adds a whole ‘nother level of crazy to this whole faux-mance.”
I ran a hand through my silken blonde locks and released a deep breath. “I don’t even know how I’d approach him about that. He’d probably laugh in my face or hang up on me.”
“Okay. Fine. Other options would be that you could get addicted to drugs and go to rehab, get into a car accident with a paparazzo, or start a Twitter feud with one of the Kardashians. You pick.”
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “I’m not doing any of those things.”
He grabbed my phone from the sofa cushion and began thumbing through it until he arrived at the contact information for Xavier Fox.
“Wait. No. Stop. Elijah, what would our parents say?” I stalled him.
“It won’t matter because the relationship will be fake.”
“Yeah, but it’ll still affect them. They’re already dealing with a very public divorce, and to throw in the fact that their son and daughter may or may not be dating on top of it? It’ll create a nightmare for them.”
“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Elijah said with an air of unbridled excitement. “God, I need to be a publicist. Anyway, there’s no such thing as bad publicity. You’ll be helping them. I promise. They might be ticked for a minute, but then Conrad will go back to acing his golf game and Sharon will find some tight-assed little pool boy to play with for a bit, and they’ll forget all about it.”
He was probably right, but it still didn’t change the chaos of nervous tension fluttering around in my stomach at the mere thought of proposing such a ridiculous idea to my estranged and soon-to-be ex stepbrother.
“What are you waiting for?” Elijah shoved the hand into my phone with Xavier’s number filling the screen. The fucker had already pressed it and it was ringing.
My fingers flew to my lips. The very ones my stepbrother had kissed one drunken night before shoving his hands down my pants and massaging me until I came all over his thick fingers. I was only eighteen, and he was twenty. I was very drunk, but I very much wanted it. The next morning he left without saying a word, and I hadn’t told a single soul since. It was our dirty little secret.
“You asshole.” I jerked the phone from him and placed it up to my ear, barely able to hear the ring above the hard thumps of my heart. One ring turned into two, and then two into three. “He’s not answering.”
The second I pulled the phone away from my ear, I heard a man’s voice say, “Hello?”
TWO
Xavier
“H-hi, Xavier.” She sounded like a woman. The last time I saw Harper, she was just eighteen with newly developed tits the size of ripe grapefruits, and she looked at me in a way that instantly made my dick hard. I was visiting Conrad for a week in the summer, doing my due diligence as the only spawn of Conrad Fox and 80s swimsuit model Deidre Jordan, when Harper’s mom and my dad went out for an evening. I ended up raiding their liquor cabinet and getting my virginal kid “sister” drunk as hell before making out with her amongst other things.
After that I felt guilty as fuck and left the next morning without saying a word. I headed home and stayed the fuck away from her. She never contacted me after that, and the times we were around each other she never brought it up, which made me wonder if she hated me for it or if she was too drunk to remember the fact that my tongue was down her throat while I fingered her virgin pussy.
“Harper,” I said as my heart raced. I’d dreaded this phone call for years, feeling like a dirty piece of shit. I stayed silent, waiting for her to throw a string of expletives my way but she never did.
“I have a question,” she said, her words seeming meek, like she was almost afraid of me. “Can you come over? I mean, are you in town?”
“I am,” I said. “Yeah. I can come over.”
Shit. I mean, I at least owed it to her. Maybe she’d gone to therapy and needed to confront me or some shit like that.
***
I climbed out of my rusting blue Ford pick up after parking it in the circle drive of Harper’s beac
h house. I shoved my keys into my jeans and skipped up to her front door, where she was already waiting.
Enveloped in a cloud of flowery perfume with long blonde hair that covered up her enormous tits and a tank top just low enough to show off the top of her cleavage, she nervously jutted toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“I haven’t seen you forever,” she said, forcibly replacing the awkward tension between us with over-the-top excitement. At least she didn’t want to slit my throat. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about that night?
“You look good.” I drank her in like a tall-necked bottle of top shelf liquor before silently scolding myself for appreciating her beauty in with the most impure of intentions. She looked like the kind of girl I’d try my hardest to score with in any other possible setting. Reminding myself of who she was, I nudged her shoulder. “Sis.”
“Stop,” she rolled her eyes, her full, fuckable lips curling into a wide grin. We only really ever spent holidays and a partial summers together, but she always sort of looked at me with those fuzzy, love-filtered aquamarine eyes that always made me do a double take of her. “Come on in.”
I followed her to a bright, airy space in the back of her house with sweeping views of the ocean. Funny, you’d think being the son of Conrad Fox, I’d be living in similarly fancy digs, but alas, Conrad didn’t give me a single penny. He paid for half my college while my mother struggled to come up with what she could. Everything else was covered my private student loans I’d signed my name with in blood.
“Have a seat,” she ushered me to a plush, overstuffed sofa where another man sat with his feet kicked out. “You remember my assistant, Elijah, right?”
I shook his hand and pretended not to notice the way he was checking me out. “I do. Good seeing you, man.”