My Dad stands too, holding his hands out plaintively.
“Remington, please understand,” Dad says. “I did sign the pre-nup. I agree with you: I wanted your mother to feel protected. I am not interested in her money; I just wanted to be with her. Don’t think for a minute that I have any intention of using your family resources to gamble. I always use my own money. And I usually win.”
“That is actually true,” I interject. “I just help with the bills.”
“It was my decision,” Diana insists, banging her fist on the table. “Jacques begged me to sign it too, but I refused. I tore it up in front of our lawyers. And I would do it again today or tomorrow. It is my choice. So Remington, sit down.”
Remington glares at my father a split-second longer, assessing, and then plops angrily into his chair.
“Back to what I was saying,” Diana says, collecting herself. “Veronique, I want us to be a family. I have so much respect for everything your father has told me about you, how hard you work and how focused you are on pursuing your success as a musician. I want to help you. This is my idea, by the way Remington – not Jacques’.”
If possible, Remington pouts even more.
“We have set up a trust fund for Veronique. And, we have made her a minority holder of Wilde Hospitality Corp. The stocks are already worth several millions, Miss LaRoux, with the trust yielding upwards of two hundred thousand dollars a month.”
My cheeks begin to tingle with something between shock, shame, and hope. Diana smiles at me, completely oblivious to how much her generosity has the power to change my life.
My Dad smiles and takes my hand.
“You do not have to worry about money any more, Kiki: just focus on your studies, if you want to return to school. The trust money is yours to do with as you choose, whether to use as a living stipend in the US or mad money for travel or drugs even.”
“Dad!”
“I know you don’t do drugs honey, I’m just saying, that is the nature of a trust: you use it for what you want and the money will always be there for you no matter what. We will support whatever decision you make.”
Diana nods, her face serious. “You are welcome to stay here or go anywhere in the world: any Wilde Hospitality Corp property is your home. When I took on your father I took on you too, and I want you to know that you are a part of the Wilde family now. That comes with prestige, wealth, and connections. You are not alone anymore, and you will never be poor again.”
I sit stunned, my coffee-cup in my hand in mid-slurp. My heart is hammering so loudly I am sure that Remington can hear it from where he sits beside me.
Can this be true?
Am I suddenly rich?
And not just rich but, like, RICH, rich?
It seems way too good to be true.
This never happens in real life, I tell myself. Fairy godmothers don’t just show up and make you an heiress. Nothing is this perfect, is it? I must be hallucinating. Somebody pinch me.
“Kiki,” my father whispers, “Just breathe. It’s real. This is real. You don’t have to worry about money, baby, and you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
He knows me so well. He knows what I am thinking. This amazing gift hits me like a ton of bricks and I can’t stop the grateful, confused, overwhelming tears from falling down my cheeks.
“Oh my god,” I choke. “Oh my god. No. No, it’s too much. It’s way too much! I can’t take it. I can’t.”
What else can you say when you go from zero to being a billionaire in one brunch?
I am actually having trouble breathing.
My Dad gets up and comes over, hugging me.
“You deserve it, Kiki,” he says. “You deserve this break. I can’t tell you how good it makes me feel to know that you’re going to be taken care of for a change. Let us take care of you.”
Diana is up too, hugging me, and I feel myself sob. I have never felt more confused or shocked in my life. That seems to be my new normal since coming to this tropical playground: shocked and confused, confused and shocked.
Wiping my eyes, I catch Remington studying me, and I almost laugh because his face reflects the same things I am feeling: confusion and shock.
Seems to be contagious.
“Wow,” Diana says, laughing through her own tears. “I knew this would be an emotional morning for all of us, but whew!”
Dad and Remington laugh too in spite of themselves, then catch each other’s eyes and fall silent, awkward again.
“I think we have covered all the bombshells,” my Dad jokes. “And if everyone’s done eating, I think we should get started.”
“Started?” Remington and I say in unison, our voices equally wary.
“Yes!” Diana says, clapping. “We are a family now. Jacques and I love you both, and we love each other, but to you we are still strangers. We will not rest until we are a real family. So, we are spending the day together doing all the island’s best activities.”
My mind is whirling. The shock of my new financial status, the craziness of Diana and Dad’s love story, the revelation of Remington’s depth of emotion about his Dad – I have so much to process, I’d really rather be a classic introvert and retreat back to my bungalow and not come out ever again. Plus, I was really hoping to set up some Skype meetings with my professors to straighten out my finals.
But Dad and Diana look so hopeful, so excited.
I can’t say no to them.
I’m actually terrible at saying no.
Remington and I accidentally catch each other’s eyes, and I read in him the same reluctance and trepidation that I feel. Oddly, I almost feel like he is trying to base his answer off of mine, let me lead the way in responding to Dad and Diana. Is he actually being a gentleman? Giving me the lead?
I’m not sure what it is, but something passes between us, a current of recognition or grudging empathy or something. Something shifts. Something opens.
Maybe we are both experiencing the same tug of war between loyalty to our parent and the impulse to let our survival mechanisms kick in to deal with all this new unchartered emotional terrain. Neither of us wants to play family, but both of us look like we’re feeling pretty guilty about wanting to say no.
“Come on Kiki,” my Dad says, slipping taking my hand. “It’ll be fun.”
And I find myself smiling back at him. “Ok,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
Remington shakes his head and sighs, falling in step beside me. Between him and my Dad, I am totally screwed.
There are some men a girl just can’t say “no” to.
Chapter Seven
ü Sailing in the Indian Ocean.
ü Nature-walking in a jungle.
ü Snorkeling a coral reef.
ü Screaming underwater and momentarily losing my breathing tube because I see a shark.
ü Realizing it’s a non-threatening, tiny shark, not dying, and actually petting an actual damn shark.
ü Sob-crying because I pet an actual damn shark.
ü Petting giant tortoises and little baby tortoises; not screaming.
ü Petting sea creatures that I don’t recognize.
ü Accidentally petting Remington’s leg at one point (thinking it was a sea creature I don’t recognize).
ü Eating a weird enormous coconut thing shaped like a butt, fresh off the tree.
ü Eating amazing rich people food.
ü Being a rich person.
ü Drinking so many fancy cocktails that my skin feels like it’s breathing.
ü Eating more ridiculously amazing rich people food.
I can now scratch all of these things off my bucket list. Diana’s day of “family activities” around the luxurious, beautiful North Island of The Seychelles has been so packed and so busy that I’ve hardly had time to feel awkward or shy.
Until now.
Now, to cap everything off, Diana has us on a sort of a self-guided kayak tour. And by self-guided she means that she and Remington are guiding us.
Because they, you know, are from here. Dad and Diana have paddled ahead and around a bend of the coast, disappearing from view.
Which means I am alone with Remington. In a deserted cove. In a kayak.
Which means that his legs are wrapped around my hips from behind, and his arms keep reaching around my shoulders, and I can feel his breath and his muscles move every time he paddles.
Which means he is so all up on me that it’s impossible not to notice how good he feels, and impossible not to fantasize about how much better he would feel if we were naked.
Which means I keep forgetting to paddle, and we are actually slowly spinning in a circle because I am a sex-obsessed idiot who can’t focus on anything but her new stepbrother’s perfect body and infuriating personality.
I can even feel his…you know…against my ass.
Not that I’m thinking about that.
Nope.
Definitely not thinking about it.
“That’s a pretty spot,” I say, pointing to the beach.
“Yeah,” Remington agrees. “That’s the private beach off Villa 1, where I’m staying.”
“Right. In my bed, which you kicked me out of.”
“In my bed, which I invited you into. Sis.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your sis. And yeah, group sex parties: not exactly my thing.”
I remember; the sex party, the fight, the nakedness. The glimpse of his…
Oh god I’m thinking about it.
Worse, I think Remington is thinking about it too.
“What about private sex parties?”
I blush and try to concentrate on the scenery, falling silent.
We had been maintaining some strained chitchat for a while, painstakingly avoiding the topics of this morning’s brunch and yesterday’s sexual tension. But now that’s a bust. Now that he’s brought it up I can’t stop thinking about the strange intense physical reaction I have every time I’m around him, or about the odd twisting jealousy I experienced seeing him naked in bed with other women yesterday, or the utter fascination and glee I felt just seeing him naked at all.
Now that I’m thinking about it I can’t stop thinking about it, and I can’t stop imagining what it would be like to be with him.
Thinking about it is so good and so consuming and so palpable that I seem to lose the ability to function for a minute; I’m literally paddling our kayak in circles and we’ve both abandoned all attempts at conversation. Behind me, I can feel Remington staring at me, his attention shifting to my body.
And I swear to god I can feel him thinking about it, too.
He’s got a reputation as a playboy for a reason. This heat is unreal, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. He emanates sex. He radiates sex.
Can’t breathe. Can’t function. Oh god.
I swear I can feel that same energy and heat in the air between us that I felt yesterday, a presence of something between us: a chemistry so palpable and disturbing it’s like a whole other entity in the air.
That is, if there were any air between us. God, you’d think with the sun setting it would be getting cooler but I am starting to sweat. This hyper-awareness of Remington’s body is driving me insane, and I can’t help but remember the flash of seeing him totally bare and aroused yesterday. I wish I didn’t know exactly what he looks like or the exact size of his glorious, smooth, huge dick. I wish I wasn’t thinking about how that particular area is shoved up against me right this second, so close, so tantalizing, and so forbidden.
So, SO forbidden.
Oh god! That thought isn’t helping.
I shift in my seat to try to make space between us, accidentally rubbing myself even closer to his body. As the kayak glides across the quiet water, the gentle tide rocks us against each other and in spite of my best intentions at self-control I let out a small, subconscious groan.
Immediately I feel Remington stiffen – in more ways than one.
The sudden unavoidable awareness of his arousal freezes me like a deer in the headlights.
Oh god. This is happening. It’s happening.
“Can you scoot forward please?” he asks, his voice gruff. “You’re…my…um…”
He sounds irritable and awkward – the way people do when they are thinking about sex when they aren’t supposed to.
I decide to pretend that I don’t know it’s happening.
“Sorry,” I say, and shift again. “Sorry. Better?”
But there really isn’t anywhere to move in the kayak besides up and down, which means I mostly just end up rubbing my ass against his rapidly hardening man parts even more, inadvertently kind of in the exact motion of a lap-dance.
“Uhh…no, can you...”
“Oh sorry, let me…”
I shift again, faster, accidentally and unavoidably rubbing again, faster. Now Remington is the one to groan, a low and soft and deep sound so primal and masculine that I actually feel my insides gush wet and throb. It makes my thighs tremble together, which pushes my ass against him even closer. His cock shudders, pressing harder against me.
Holy shit.
“Sorry,” I say again. “I’m sorry. I…uh…maybe we should paddle to the beach and I can just walk the rest of the way?”
I feel him try to pull his hips back away from mine, but it turns into another accidental rub and this time we both catch our breath and groan at the same time. A tremor works through my body, curling my toes, and I have to grab on to the side of the kayak for stability.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “Ok, yeah, let’s get out here. Good idea.”
“Ok. Yeah. Ok. Right. Good. Let me grab the paddle. I’ll just –”
Leaning forward I reach to where I’d placed the paddle across the prow, and in doing so I once again unthinkingly slide the length of my ass against the length of Remington’s cock. The friction and the pleasure are painstakingly slow and impossible to ignore, the magnetism between our bodies as strong as gravity. I’m so wet now I am sure he can feel it through both our pants.
And this time he doesn’t pretend not to notice.
“God damn it,” he gasps.
A few things happen really fast.
Remington’s free hand grabs my hips from the side and pulls them back hard and tight against his to create a forceful pressure as he deliberately arcs himself against me, slowly and assertively letting me feel him thrust against my ass.
I can feel everything.
I can feel that he wants me.
I can feel how he wants me.
I can feel how he’d fuck me.
I can feel the hardness of his erection springing under his shorts, an almost nuclear heat radiating from him.
“What are you doing to me,” he groans. “Veronique, what the fuck!”
“God!” I gasp. “Oh god please. I…”
He drops his paddle and I vaguely hear it splash into the water, but I don’t have time to pay attention to it because his now-free other hand snakes around my body and embraces me, winding its way around to crush my breasts.
“Oh god,” I moan.
Then, being an idiot, I try to do two mutually exclusive things; the lower half of my body melts into him, as if my ass and my sex are literally inviting him in, wantonly begging for the fuck of a lifetime: but the upper half of my body – you know, the half attached to my brain – has the opposite reaction of jerking away from his erotic touch in self-preservation.
My confused body causes the whole boat to rock. And the confused boat decides like me that it can’t handle all this, and capsizes.
“Ahh!”
With a startled yelp the world goes upside down and I am splashing into the bath-warm ocean, wishing it were cold enough to shock my body back into its senses. But it’s not. The seawater is warm and sensual, the salty scent enticing, the texture like thick magic against my skin. And it’s also shallow enough that within a few minutes Remington and I have found our footing and stand facing each other in the waist-deep sea.
We are dren
ched and panting, staring at each other with hungry eyes. Steam is literally rising from Remington’s skin where the salty drops of sweat and seawater vaporize into the air. He’s hot, heated, hard, and hell of dangerous, his face searching mine for permission.
I recognize this moment; this is the point of no return.
I can turn away and wade toward the beach and run away from temptation like a smart person with an actual brain. I can just not mess around with my stepbrother. I can just not cross the line.
Or…
Chapter Eight
It takes approximately one second for me to decide I’m not leaving. This is my chance to act out all my fantasies with Remington Wilde, and I will be damned if I will let anything stop me. He wants me, I want him; we’re adults.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Do it. Do it. Do it.
Remington reaches for me and grabs me, his hands huge over my waist, relentlessly snatching my body into a kiss. For the first time since meeting him I don’t resist the lust, simply letting the waves of desire and excitement build up from our mouths to our hips. My body melts into him, writhing in anticipation. His arms are like a vice, squeezing out all thoughts of escape.
It’s too late now. I know as soon as we kiss that this is going all the way, past inhibitions and taboos. This passion, this lust is mutual; my stepbrother and I are lovers now, tasting and wanting and sucking at each other like ravenous animals. His tongue lashes under mine, aggressive and firm, giving me a taste of what’s to come.
“Oh, Rem, please, don’t tease me.”
“Tease you? I’m not. I’m not.”
His hands frantically push my shirt up and over my head, then rip off my bra. My breasts fall bare against him until his hands cup me, tugging and kneading my flesh until it’s hot and smooth. I moan, feeling my nipples harden under his fingers. He kisses my neck, my ear, rolling my nipples in his fingers and grinding his cock against my hips.
“God I want you,” he groans. “You’re mine now.”
“God you think you own everything.”
“Maybe I do.”
My Billionaire Stepbrother Page 6