Dane (A Foster Family Saga #1)

by Avery Phillips

  Gervais kept his gaze fixed on the tablet I had handed back to him, but I spotted a smile on his lips. He was learning me. He said, “In that case, your driver is arranged for tonight.”

  “Nah,” I drawled. “I think I’ll take the Aston.”

  I was on a mission to outdo myself in wicked behavior. My mind was in turmoil, still reeling from missing Lynn, and rebelling against the social constraints from being in the tabloid limelight. I decided I deserved my bad-boy title. I'd been a good man long enough. Where had that gotten me?

  Later that night I sped down the highway in my black Aston Martin in search of trouble with the long-legged actress, Annabeth, in the passenger seat. She’d made me take her shopping, and went through a hefty chunk of change in a jewelry store that I called in advance to open late.

  “Ooh, this looks nice on me,” Annabeth cooed, modeling a diamond-encrusted engagement ring, but I laughed at the joke. Not even Lynn had been able to get more out of me than an offer to move in.

  “Sweetheart, you know better than that. I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “You scoundrel. I’ll get you to come around eventually.”

  “Keep trying. I love it when you fuck me like you’re determined.” I pulled her into an X-rated embrace that left the jewelry saleswoman blushing.

  We headed over to a lounge in Manhattan, where Annabeth got drunk, and I got tipsy. Then we went back to her place to sleep it off, and by sleep I mean fuck like maniacs, then sleep.

  When she opened the blinds of her bay window, a decent view of the New York skyline at midnight was the backdrop. The flawless glass was smudged with handprints by the time we were done. Annabeth wore a sheer pink dress that ended up bunched around her waist. She had her hands above her head pressed to the window, and her perfectly round ass poked out while I guided my erection in and out of her silky, wet sheath.

  Her succulent breasts jiggled in my hands. They were fake, but they were familiar, and I loved the way her body molded to mine. Erotic sounds filled the room, moans, sighs, panting. I groaned as my hard cock pumped in and out, and her luscious ass bounced off my pelvis. She was so wet her juices coated my erection and dribbled down my thighs. Wealth and power turned her on like that.

  “Fuck me like you mean it!” she cried out, while I pounded.

  I clenched my teeth and swirled my cock in her tight hold. “What’s my motivation, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck me like this is the last time,” she moaned, getting into the role-playing.

  “I’m doing that now,” I groaned into the back of her neck. Any time could be the last time, but I figured I’d keep her around for a while. Her pink-tipped curls tickled my face with each breath.

  I picked her up and carried her to the bed, where I opened her like a book and got engrossed in the story of how she was about to come. Those long, shapely legs rested on my shoulders. Her toned, lush ass fit in the palms of my hands, and I guided the roll of her hips that swallowed and released my cock. I rose up on my knees and drove my quivering hardness deeper. Her inner muscles gripped the shaft like a satiny glove and stroked, and I let out a gasp at the pleasure. “Direct this dick,” I said.

  “Tell me you love me.” I almost laughed. I wasn’t that good of an actor.

  I pulled out and roughly smacked the head of my dick against her engorged labia. I fondled her clitoris with the pad of my thumb, and then I pushed back inside the delicate folds of her vagina. With my fingers stroking her clit and my steel erection plunging inside, I had her coming in a steamy, hot gush all over my cock. It was enough to take me over the edge. Two more thrusts of my hips and I shot a sticky load on her beautiful face.

  The next night it was more of the same, and the night after that, similar. I didn’t keep the antics strictly to public mayhem with Annabeth, however. I wasn’t much for groupies, but occasionally a party crowd would follow me to my various hangouts and play entourage. On one such occasion, I convinced six girls to come with me to a nearby tattoo parlor, where they each got my signature tattooed on their asses. Turned out the owner of the parlor was filming a reality TV show. That made for good entertainment.

  I had a point to prove to the gossiping tabloids and my brother alike: I wasn’t about to be curtailed.

  Regardless of my bad-boy behavior, business was booming. By day I was the consummate professional. I could party hard, but work harder. We closed out spring with Excelsis at its pinnacle. I knew it had to grind my brother’s and my father’s gears that I was able to lead the company so effectively and still maintain my lifestyle, but fuck ’em. As long as we were turning a profit, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.

  CHAPTER 2

  I had been at my worst for over a month and was on my way out of the penthouse to an event when my personal line rang. “Hello?” I answered impatiently.

  “Dane Evan Foster,” came a familiar voice on the other end.

  It was my younger sister, half-sister. “Selene!” I sprawled out on my massive bed for a chat. “Hey, how’s school?”

  “Out for summer. Is it true you had dinner with a dominatrix? You must be shooting to make Dad’s ‘favorite son’ list.”

  “Ha! Madame Lolita is a dominatrix, but only a friend. And we both know I’m all Dad thinks about.”

  “For all the wrong reasons. Have you talked to Simon? He asked me to give you a call.”

  I repositioned my head on the small mountain of plush pillows, crossing my feet at the ankles. Annoyed, I replied, “How nice of you to do as he commands. Simon knows I don’t have two words for him right now. He can live long and go fuck himself.”

  She said, “You’re holding a grudge over Lynn? Dane, she just wasn’t the one for you. I never thought she was. Besides, you would’ve eaten her alive.”

  “I would have. And she would have liked it.” Selene’s soft giggle filled my ear, and I found myself smiling. She was my half-sister by my father, and she had grown up with Simon. Yet while he was imperious and disdainful, Selene held a fondness for her illegitimate brother from another mother. I hadn’t felt like I had any real family until I met her. Though I hadn't known her long, I knew she was looking out for me, in her own way.

  “This isn’t about Lynn,” I explained. “Simon and I never have seen eye to eye. He has his life, and I have mine. Unfortunately, there’s a tasteless media preoccupation with the rich and famous, and I happen to have caught the attention of a meddling writer. Some shit-for-brains celebrity will come along and do something worse than me soon, I promise.”

  “That’s good to know, but I wasn’t calling you about the rumor mill. I want you to swallow your pride and sit down, have a man-to-man with Simon. You don’t know him like I do. Under his stern exterior, he’s a decent guy, and it has to break his heart to feel like you hold it against him that he’s marrying Lynn.”

  I mumbled, “Ooh, look at the time. I was on my way out.”

  “Listen to me, Dane. I know, and you know, that you’re hurting. Under the circumstances, anyone would hurt. You met a girl you poured your heart into, and she turned out not to be the one. She isn’t the only woman out there. I don’t think you’ll be able to heal until you address and resolve the issues you have with her.”

  “I respect what you’re saying, Selene. You’re usually very astute, but you’re wrong this time. Do I feel like Simon is a piece of shit for asking my ex to marry him? Yeah, but I’m not fatally wounded. Trust me. I’ve moved on. Lynn’s been replaced by Annabeth, who happens to be way better in bed, by the way.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” she said. Her word choice made me laugh, and she laughed along with me. I felt better.

  “All right, Little Dove, I’ll hit you up some other time. I have an event to attend.”

  Selene said, “I’m afraid to ask. What kind of event? An orgy?”

  “For your information, it’s a charity fundraiser.”

  “Do a few more of those while you’re at it. It seems you need to stay away from the nightclubs for a w
hile.”

  “Gervais says the same thing. Funny, how you two manage to tell me what to do. The question is, do I listen?” I grinned.

  “Stubborn ass,” Selene said good-naturedly. “Talk to you later, love. Have fun at your fundraiser.”

  “Thanks. Will do.”

  I hung up, feeling lighter. It was always kickass to hear from Selene. “Ready, Gervais?” I shouted. On this rare occasion, Gervais was coming out with me. It was an important fundraiser, and business would be handled, so I couldn’t be without my assistant.

  Gervais materialized in that ninja way he had. I had my driver run us the lengthy trip out of the city to the countryside, where the fundraiser was being held at the home of a wealthy heiress. “Well, Gervais, tell me how much we’re giving away tonight?” I asked.

  “Nine million dollars, sir,” Gervais said.

  “That’s reasonable.”

  “Would you like a refresher on names and faces?” Gervais turned his ever-present tablet my way. I declined, uninterested in the tedium. I was good with names and faces anyway. Truthfully, I had invited him to avoid showing up alone. Annabeth was filming.

  “Tell me about your mother, Gervais,” I said.

  Gervais studied me closely before placing his ankle across his knee and choosing his words. “She was firm, but fair,” he responded laconically. “What’s this about?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about my mom. You know I hired a private investigator a few years ago to find her? I never told anybody.” Gervais knew the bare bones of my history, that I was born to a cast-away woman from an affair between her and a wealthy businessman. He knew I had a shitty childhood, and my mother hadn’t kept in touch since my transition from the bottom to the top. I considered opening up, because so few knew what it had taken for me to become the man that I was.

  “Of course, sir,” Gervais replied.

  I chuckled ruefully. “The trail went cold. He never found anything.”

  “D’ah, well, there are other PIs. I’ll compile a list, have it to you midmorning,” said Gervais, ever the efficient assistant.

  I smiled, grateful for his effort. “No, don’t worry about it. We got other shit on our plate right now. Loosen up, buddy! Hey, here’s to hoping we both go home with hot chicks tonight. You have a girlfriend, Gervais?”

  “I’m married to my work,” Gervais retorted with a laugh.

  “Damn! Remind me to give you a vacation.”

  “Dane, somebody has to take your brother’s calls. Be serious.”

  “That’s what voicemail is for. Oh, before I forget, test your earpiece. Can you hear me clearly?” I spoke into a microphone tucked in my collar, and Gervais indicated he heard, and then tested his so we could communicate if we got separated. It reminded me of when I was a kid playing spy games. “This is gonna be an epic night. I can feel it. And meet a girl tonight, would you? I hate being the reason you don’t get laid.”

  Gervais replied, “I have enough to handle with your sordid sex life, sir. Too much to give thought about mine.”

  We arrived at the fundraiser and strolled through the throng of who’s-who into the grand mansion. There were hundreds of guests, largely concentrated in the ballroom at the center of the house. A crystal chandelier dripped from the ballroom ceiling, which was ornately painted with cherubim, and the walls were papered in gold.

  The vast marble floor was peopled with elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen. There were servers who traversed the room carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne. There was an orchestra playing sophisticated classical pieces. The scene was like something from the 1800s, destined to bore me to tears.

  I leaned in to Gervais and muttered, “I usually work the bar first. What about you?”

  “I suggest you mingle a bit before you get shitfaced,” Gervais responded dryly. I shot him a dirty look. “You told me to loosen up,” he said with a shrug. I laughed.

  I made my way around the floor, playing the part of Responsible Young Foster, since this was business, but I kept an eye out for sexy socialites for the after-party; I knew damn well somebody was leaving with me tonight. There was a willowy model-type by the bar glancing in my direction, but I got stuck in a conversation with a judge who had a booming voice and an upstate accent.

  He said he knew my father, and complimented me on my business acumen. I was impressed he knew about me, and said as much. “Oh, yeah! Me and your dad go back a ways. I keep my eye out for trouble for my friends, in case I need to bail you out one day,” he said with a loud guffaw. I managed to keep my smile in place.

  “Great to know,” I said tightly.

  “Sir, Your Honor.” Gervais appeared at my side. I mouthed a mute thanks to Gervais. “I hate to pull you away, Mr. Foster, but there is a young lady requesting an introduction.”

  “Good seein’ ya, Dane. Keep out of trouble, kid,” the judge said.

  I hurried away with barely a nod. “Gervais, you’re a lifesaver. I’m sure he was about to launch into a ‘back in my day’ story. I thought I was going to be sick. So where’s the lady?”

  “Follow me,” Gervais said.

  I raised a brow and suggested, “Well, why don’t you bring her to me?”

  “Or we can stand here discussing who should go to whom while a hot girl gets bored waiting for you.”

  I nearly spat out the champagne I was sipping as I burst out laughing. “Lead the way, then, buddy. How hot is she? How old is she?” I fired off questions as he led me across the crowded ballroom floor. But we were already there, and he didn’t have time to answer. There was a woman sitting at a table with a small group of ladies.

  Gervais flourished a hand in my direction and said, “Excuse me, Ms. Sorenson. Allow me to introduce Mr. Dane Foster. Mr. Foster, Hanna Sorenson, from Norway.” He did a small bow, and I followed suit. I gathered her fingers in mine and placed a light kiss on her hand, inhaling the scent of her perfume. She smelled like lilacs and vanilla and some elusive strain of elegance that fit the vision of her perfectly. Gervais glared at me. I shrugged slightly, realizing I had gotten wrapped up in her scent and held her hand longer than was appropriate.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gervais. How kind of you,” she said. She’d dismissed my assistant. I refrained from commenting. I gave her the once-over, expecting the usual caliber of preening socialite, the sort with a forgettable face and the wit of a blown light bulb. What I saw was a very young woman with fiery red hair piled atop her head and flyaway curls at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were an indeterminate color, hazel or green or gold, depending on the light.

  She stood, and my eyes widened at her svelte figure. I gave a soft grunt of masculine appreciation at her curves. She definitely wasn’t forgettable. She wore a stunning emerald dress that complemented her ginger hair. The dress spilled low and exposed pale hills of breasts. Creamy shoulders and arms were bare, and a diamond choker encircled her slender neck. There were also modestly sized diamonds in each of her delicate earlobes. The emerald gown clung to the flare of her hips, falling to the floor to cover gold sandals. “Mr. Foster, I believe we have business to discuss,” she said with authority. I arched a brow, wondering what exactly the business at hand was.

  She led me from the din of the crowded house, to the main entrance, then out into the warm night. I made the leap that she wanted privacy to talk real estate. I said, “I’d be more than happy to set up a meeting with you and one of our representatives at Excelsis, Ms. Sorenson. Are you interested in acquiring property, moving to the US for good?”

  “Oh, would you just shove it with the Ms. Sorenson shit. I’m only twenty-four, hardly old enough to be your miss.” She had a faint accent and a soft voice that sounded strange throwing around curse words.

  “Okay. Hanna. Are we talking houses? Because I take care of the corporate stuff. I may not be of direct help, but I can connect you with someone.”

  “My aunt, Ettie Danos. Do you know her? She warned me all about you. She said you’re an asshole
and a womanizer.”

  “I can’t say I know the name, but she sounds lovely,” I said. I stuck my hands in my pockets, rocking on my heels, waiting for her to tell me why she’d dragged me outside. She was pacing back on forth at the top of the step. There were other guests hanging around the entrance, some going, some coming, but she ignored all, including me. She dug out a phone from somewhere near her cleavage and studied the screen. I tentatively leaned forward and asked, “What’d you say you need me for again?”

  Her eyes found mine and a devilish smile curved her sensual mouth. “I need you to show me what all the fuss is about,” she said, licking her lips.

  A ripple of lust went through me as I followed the sweep of her tongue. Arching a brow, I said, “My reputation exceeds me.” She moved in closer, leaning against me seductively. Her breasts brushed my chest, and I pondered the consequences of fucking her right there on the front steps. She was asking for it. Or I would have, if what she said next hadn’t caught me so off guard.

  “You don’t have any handicaps, do you?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “No knee problems, hip problems, right?”

  “No…” I drew the word out, imagination ablaze. If she wanted to know if I could handle her in the sack, the answer was absolutely.

  At my response, she started taking off her sandals. “That’s good to know.” She skipped down the steps two by two, calling over her shoulder, “Come on.”

  “Wait, where are you going?” I trailed behind her at a slower pace. When she got to the base of the steps, she stared at the handful of people scattered around the circle drive, and I figured she was looking for someone. Beyond that, there was a long stretch of driveway, and then the gates to the estate. She took off running in that direction. “What the fuck?” I mumbled in confusion.

  “Come on!” she yelled. I instinctively ran after her. I loped past startled guests. She ran like someone was chasing, but when I looked back, there was nobody. We darted up the driveway, flanked on both sides by rolling green fields, and a full moon bathed the landscape in cool blue light. I suddenly had a vision of a car slamming into us, and my heart thumped faster. This was a driveway. The girl was crazy, bonkers.