Step Scandal - Part 1

by St. James, Rossi

  “I’m just going to cut to the chase here.” Harper cleared her throat, her eyes shifting into mine as she rubbed her palms on the fronts of her tanned thighs. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Okay.”

  “I know we have a history…”

  Oh, shit. She was going to bring up that night. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

  “I know things have been strained between us,” she continued. “And I realize our parents are married, and that technically makes us…”

  Fuck. It was coming.

  “Stepsiblings…” she said slowly. “But I was wondering if you would consider…at all…pretending to date me?”

  My brows furrowed, and I cocked my head to the side thinking maybe I’d misunderstood. “What was that?”

  “Elijah had this idea, that maybe if I created a scandal, a fake scandal, it might generate a little buzz and help restart my career,” she spoke with a half-assed confidence that had been tarnished and eaten away by too many young years filled with naïve hope. “I’m having a hard time getting work right now. I’m desperate.” Her shoulders fell.

  I lifted my hands to my temples and began massaging them, as if that’d help the fact that my mind was completely blown. Here I thought she wanted me to come over so she could yell at me for getting her drunk and kissing her six years ago, but all she wanted was for me to pretend to be her boyfriend.

  “This is just, I’m sorry, this is weird.” I tried to laugh the awkwardness away, but it wasn’t going anywhere. “I need to kind of digest this for a second.”

  “Three months,” she said. “That’s all I need. We’ll be seen together. People will speculate, and we’ll deny it all. We just need to be seen together mostly.”

  “Lots of famous siblings hang out,” I said. “That’s not going to generate much buzz, Harper.”

  Elijah cleared his throat.

  “Okay, maybe we’ll have to, like, kiss or something too,” she muttered. “No tongue or anything. Just, you know, how they do it in the movies.”

  I slumped back in my seat, trying to imagine what it would actually feel like. Harper had always gravitated toward the limelight, whereas I was perfectly happy slipping away into the background and not telling a soul who my father was. Most people knew I was Conrad Fox’s look-a-like son, but I tried to brush it off when I could. I like privacy. I liked the anonymity of being an afterthought and a familiar face that still blended in for the most part.

  “I’m afraid I’m not your type,” I said, looking her up and down. Her pretty little virginal branded look was going to contrast highly with my shredded jeans and piercings and tattoos lifestyle.

  “Three months,” she said again. “I’ll pay you.”

  Money. Money could make a man do a lot of things. “How much are you talking?”

  “What do you want? Name your price,” she said. “I realize I’m asking a lot of you, and you should be fairly compensated.”

  I’d been working in my buddy’s tattoo shop the last couple years, but more than anything I wanted to open one of my own on Ventura Boulevard. The only thing I needed was enough capital to get a loan to start my business. I’d saved up a little bit, but I wasn’t making much working for someone else, and at that rate, it was going to be a good ten years before I’d be able to even think about opening a shop.

  “Two hundred fifty thousand,” I said. That was the amount I’d asked Conrad for, and he’d laughed in my face. Said he’d consider if I was opening a more respectable business. Mom lived on a fixed income, nursing the residual income that came from investing her life’s work into a modest passive stream. I wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole, though she’d have probably cashed out some stocks for her only son. She shouldn’t have to do that. Not when Conrad was worth more than the gross national product of Sweden.

  “Done,” Harper said, clapping her hands. Two hundred fifty thousand must have been pocket change for her, then again, she’d been working since she was a kid.

  Elijah stood. “I think I earned the rest of the day off, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, go home,” Harper smiled, seeming instantly relieved. Her body held more of a relaxed posture than it had before. Elijah leaned down and kissed her cheek before hightailing it out of there.

  “What do you even need a personal assistant for?” I asked as soon as I heard the front door shut.

  “He’s my best friend,” Harper said. “I’ve known him for years. It would be weird not to have him around. And he does work for me…when I have work for him to do. So what do you want to do with this two hundred fifty thousand?”

  “Open up a tattoo shop,” I said without missing a beat.

  She stood up, tugging her shirt up above her belly button as she pushed the waistband of her shorts down until it was mere inches above her panty line where a tiny little anchor was inked into her tan flesh. “Remember that?”

  “I do.” It was a tat of the drawing I’d done for her the night I kissed her.

  “I kept that picture you did and had it put on me,” she said, pushing her clothes back into place. “I really liked it.”

  “Interesting placement.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I had to keep it hidden. You know, for my image. The record label would’ve had a shit fit if I had any hint of visible tattoos. Don’t read into it too much. What about you? Any more tattoos since I saw you last?”

  I lifted up my shirt, exposing my chest where two winged drawings I’d designed covered my pecs. “Just these.”

  Harper laughed. “I’ve never heard of a tattoo artist with hardly any tattoos.”

  “I have commitment issues.” I pulled my shirt down. “I can’t commit to a single drawing. I’ll get fixated on one and just before I go to have it drawn on me, I change my mind. What if I won’t like it in five years? What if it loses it’s meaning? I just haven’t found the perfect one yet.”

  “You can always laser them off if you change your mind.”

  “Nah.” I shook my head. “They’re permanent. At least for me. Once it’s on, it’s never coming off.”

  “Well, I hope someday you can overcome your commitment issues and find the perfect one.” She stood up and headed to the kitchen. “You want a beer or something?”

  I glanced at my watch. I had to be to work soon. Friday nights were usually our busiest night of the week. “I should get going.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t try to hide the disappointment on her face, and I almost felt bad. “Thanks for coming. This went a lot better than I thought it would. I thought you were going to hang up on me when I called you.”

  I shot her a look. “Why would I hang up on you?”

  She slinked one shoulder up, her pretty blue eyes landing on the wood floor. “I don’t know. You weren’t really that nice to me growing up.”

  I stood and worked my way toward her, realizing how much I towered above her when we were close. She stared up at me through long, dark lashes, her cleavage spilling out from her paper-thin tank top like an invitation for me to do all kinds of naughty things to her. She was all woman.

  And yet, she was still my stepsister. Though not for much longer, but still.

  She bit her lip as she stifled a smile, and I instantly recalled how inexplicably giddy she’d act around me when we were younger.

  But damn, she was a sweet girl. And she’d grown up to be sexy as fuck.

  Without warning, my hand flew to cup her soft cheek, and as if in slow motion, her lips began to part as I lowered my mouth to hers.

  THREE

  Harper

  Xavier tasted like mint and a hint of clove cigarettes. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like an electrode the minute his lips hit mine. It felt just like that drunken summer night six years before, only this time I was completely coherent.

  Our lips danced, and my mouth opened to invite his tongue inside, but he pulled himself off me before it could go any further.

  Releasing his hand from my face, he leaned back, his l
ips curling into a smile. “Don’t act so surprised.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to kiss me.” My fingers grazed over my swollen, blood-rushed lips as my lungs gasped for air. I could feel the color draining from my face as I tried to wrap my head around what just happened. “You could’ve warned me you were going to do that.”

  “Listen, Princess,” he said, running his hand along the faint stubble that lined his strong jaw. His honey maple eyes flashed with the intensity of a lion ready to strike. “You want my help. Here’s how it’s going to go. This is going to look as real as possible. You have to get used to me kissing you.”

  He took a step toward me, backing me up against the wall.

  “When I touch you,” he said, slipping his hand around my waist. “It has to look natural. Not forced.” He lowered his mouth to mine, though he didn’t exactly kiss me. He teased and toyed my bottom lip between his teeth. “When I touch your mouth, you have to look like you’re enjoying it.”

  His right hand slid down my hip, grabbing a handful of ass through my shorts and causing my heart to skip a few beats in the process.

  “I thought we were only going to kiss when cameras are around?” I said, breathing in his leather and tobacco scent.

  “We have to practice,” he said, claiming my mouth again. “You might be a good actress, Princess, but no amount of acting in the world is going to wipe that conflicted look off your face. The one you make when I touch you.”

  I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. A mix of confusion and delight. That’s what it was. The way he touched me forced my legs to clench together, stifling off the wetness that gathered in my panties. But the confusion came because I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. Not like this.

  He lowered his glance to my tank top, where my nipples were standing at full attention through the sheer fabric. “We’re making progress.”

  My cheeks flushed red-hot as I bit my lip. I could barely look at him. “My body always responds that way when I’m being…teased.”

  “Aren’t you a virgin?”

  “No,” I huffed, almost insulted. “I’m twenty-four. And I dated Hayden McDaniel for two years. You think he’d have stayed with me that long if I didn’t put out?”

  “Look, I have to go to work now.” He slipped his hand into his pockets and jingled his keys. “Are we clear on everything or do you need more practice? I’m not being facetious, Harper. I want this to work. I have goals. You have goals.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay doing this? I mean, what about our parents?”

  He pushed a gush of air out of his lips and shook his head. “When have I ever given a shit about what Conrad thinks about anything?”

  “And we’re clear on the rules?” I asked, needing just one more confirmation that we were both on the same page. “No sex. No real kissing. No tongue. No…”

  “Harper, I got this,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he slicked his hand through his jet black hair. “I’m going to make this shit look so real, you’re going to have a hard time telling the difference.”

  Xavier flashed me a wicked smile before showing himself out. I grabbed into the back of a nearby armchair to steady myself, my knees threatening to give out from under me.

  What the fuck just happened?

  FOUR

  Xavier

  Saturday night we hit up some club in downtown L.A. at Harper’s insistence. Evidently she was ready to get the show on the road. Dressed in a black skintight number that barely covered her ass and the pinks of her nipples, we sat in the VIP lounge with candles illuminating our table and bottles of Moet and Chandon on ice. Apparently this was her place, and the owners always gave her the VIP treatment whenever they knew she was coming.

  “Wanna dance?” she cooed, slipping a pink straw between her cherry lips. It was her third drink, and we’d only been there an hour and a half.

  A group of girls walked past, and I could’ve sworn I heard them mutter something about, “Isn’t that Xavier Fox?” Of course that would happen. No one said two shits about Harper.

  “Why the hell not.” I stood up, reaching down for her hand, and led her to the dance floor where some hip hop number that completely called for intense grinding and fully clothed sex on the dance floor began to rattle out of the speakers. She backed her tight little ass up against me, bumping it into my crotch and making my cock tingle with a threat to harden if I didn’t quickly think about golf or some shit soon.

  In her drunken state, she grabbed my hands and slipped them around her, and while she probably meant to place them around her hips, she landed a little high and placed them just beneath her bouncing tits.

  Flashes of what I could only assume to be camera phones blinded my vision, so I let my hands do the seeing for me. All I saw was pitch black in between blinding lights, but my hands felt the body of a curvaceous young woman I was technically not supposed to be touching in that way.

  I pulled her into me, running my hands down the length of her curved body and slipping my lips down to her exposed neck, peppering soft kisses into her skin. All for show of course. She spun around to face me, resting her hands on my shoulders as we danced, and smiled as if to tell me to keep up the good work.

  The second the song ended, she grabbed my hand and led me back to our little private booth.

  “I never knew you could dance,” she shouted over the music.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I took a swig of my beer and glanced around the packed room. “I think people were taking pictures of us.”

  “Perfect.” She smiled and reached down to find her glass.

  “Don’t,” I took it out of her hand. “Drink some water.”

  She pouted her bottom lip.

  “I know you’re nervous, but fuck, Harper.” I shook my head, taking another swig of beer. “Slow down.”

  She sat back, brushing the blonde hair from her face and drew in a deep breath. Suddenly her eyes scrunched. “Is that – is that Hayden?”

  I followed her gaze to a guy in a khaki linen suit with a flock of giggly, scantily-clad girls around him like a thick fog. “Yep.”

  I’d kept tabs on the two of them from afar while the dated. And by “from afar”, I meant clicking on gossip website articles that happened to show up in my newsfeed. I never went actively looking for that shit, but it seemed to be everywhere while they dated. I didn’t know much, but from what I gathered, he’d cheated on her. A lot. And he seemed like the Lord of the Douchebags.

  My arm slipped behind her shoulder, and I pulled her close. I leaned down, nuzzling my face into her neck and drinking in her sweet perfume. “Should we let him know you’re off the market?”

  She nodded vigorously, though she kept her gaze on him. I’d recognize a girl with a still-broken heart from a mile away. Her lips found mine in the dark of the club, and my hands cupped her face as we made out sans-tongue. It was fucked up how natural it felt, but we both just went with it. Maybe our “acting” genes were to blame.

  “Harper?” a man’s voice interrupted our fake make out session. I peeled myself off her and turned toward the voice. Fucking Hayden McDaniel.

  “Oh, hi, Hayden,” Harper said, her cherry lips swollen.

  He glanced at me as if I were familiar. A lot of people did that. I had that face they just couldn’t place until they realized who my dad was.

  “How’ve you been?” he asked. He slid his hands into his pockets and peered around the room, looking like the king of all royal asshats. His smug look belonged to a man who still secretly pined for Harper, but didn’t want her to know.

  “Good,” Harper said, staring at him like he was some kind of teen idol. I wanted to tell her to wipe the smile off her face before I replaced it with another heart-attack-inducing kiss right in front of that asshole.

  “Wanna go outside? It’s kind of loud in here,” Hayden said. His eyes traveled to me, and his face fell slightly when he saw the look I was giving him. “If that’s okay with your boyfri
end here.”

  Harper looked at me, raising her eyebrows as if to ask permission. I cocked my head to the right and gave her a piercing glare, as if to tell her ‘no’ in not so many words.

  “I’ll be right back. I won’t be gone long,” she promised. She tugged on the hem of her tight dress, pulling it down and smoothing it out as she stood up to follow him outside.

  A few minutes later, she still hadn’t returned. I finished my beer and spun the rim between my thumb and pointer as a restlessness stirred in my legs that eventually forced me to rise up and go find her.

  I wanted my fucking tattoo shop. And more than that, I didn’t want her to get her fucking heart smashed again by that dick wad.

  I left the club and headed out front where a line of hopefuls stood a half –mile long waiting to get inside. Searching for her, and I ignored the burn in the pit of my stomach that told me she’d left with him. It shouldn’t have bothered me like it did. After all, this was just an act, and she was a grown woman allowed to do whatever she pleased.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me!” a woman’s voice yelled from down the street. I turned only to see Hayden and, to my relief, Harper going at it. At least verbally. Had he touched a hair on her head, I’d have kicked his ass so hard he’d shit blood for a week.

  “What’s going on?” I pulled my shoulders back, resting my hands on my hips and staring down my nose at the tool in the linen suit.

  “Mind your own,” Hayden said, reaching for Harper’s arm and pulling her toward him, though it was more possessive than protective.

  “Is he bothering you, Harper?” I asked, ignoring him.

  “We were just talking,” she said, pulling herself away from him and looking crestfallen, like he’d hurt her all over again. She stood equal distances between us as she crossed her arms guardedly.

  “Harper, baby, come with me,” he said. “I’ll take you home. You belong with me.”

  “She belongs to you?” I scoffed. “Is that why you stuck your dick in everything from here to Vegas when you two were together?”