Billionaire Stepbrother - Secret Lives

by Du Bois, Madeline

  Copyright © 2015 Madeline Du Bois

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction, and should not be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author. All names, characters, places, dialogue, and events are fictional, and any resemblance to actual people or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Thank You For Reading

  Chapter 1

  Cynthia Millard pushed the elevator button at least 20 times, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. She wasn’t in the mood to stick around any longer because she was about to explode with frustration. She had just gotten out of her third interview in the past week, and it went the same as the other two; poorly.

  It always seemed hopeful. Her credentials matched what the positions needed exactly, and her experience at a huge corporation looked great to whoever was interviewing her. But when it came to the part where they discussed hiring her, there was always some barrier with paperwork or references, and she was pretty sure she knew what was going on.

  Her heels clunked against the metal as she stepped into the glorified moving box that would take her back into the parking garage. There was only one other person in the elevator, and Cynthia was sure to stand as far away as possible from him. He had on the cheapest suit she’d ever laid eyes on, and he kept adjusting his tie like he was either hot or nervous. His briefcase looked like Walmart quality, and he smelled like he had just dipped himself in a vat of onions. At least she wasn’t the only one who would get turned down for a job today.

  She let out a sigh of relief when the man exited on the first floor and the elevator continued down to the garage carrying no one else but her. Being downtown always made her nervous. A single woman in the middle of Detroit in high heels and a skirt never felt safe, but then again, maybe it was because she felt exposed without a man at her side.

  It was rare that Cynthia had no man in her life, but now she was both without boyfriend and without work. Somehow the absence of both made her feel especially alone and vulnerable.

  As she made her way to her five year old Chevy Malibu, she pulled out her cell phone and took it off vibrate. She had missed a call while she was in the disaster interview, but it was a number she didn’t recognize. At least they left a voicemail. Maybe it was another interview or even a job offer. Wishful thinking.

  As she listened to the message, she felt her body go rigid and her face heating up. The voice was unmistakable even before he said his name, and she was now positive as to why she was unable to catch a break lately. Her fucking ex asshole of a boyfriend.

  “Hi, bunny, it’s me, Winslow. I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now, and I see that you aren’t taking my calls. So, I thought I’d call you from a different number just to see if you were avoiding me or if I should be worried about your well-being. I heard that you were in an important meeting today, though, so I guess I caught you at a bad time. If you would just call me back we could work this whole thing out. I’m so lost without you, the business is. The clients are constantly inquiring about you. Won’t you consider coming back? Call me and let me know what the terms would be if you strike out today. I miss you. Bye now.”

  Cynthia growled and stomped her heels on the concrete like a child throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been to not see it coming. She had broken up with Winslow almost a month ago, but he still insisted on practically stalking her. He’d made phone calls, sent her flowers, and even paid her landlord her rent directly, despite her not wanting anything to do with him or his money. It was just his way of making sure that she constantly had to think about him. In hindsight it should have been obvious that a billionaire CEO would be so narcissistic, but she had been so sure when they got involved that he was different.

  She’d let him tell her his story about growing up in the ghetto with two working parents and nine siblings. How he had to start working at an early age and took a lot of abuse from both parents. How he had eaten scraps sometimes and nothing more until he got a college scholarship and met his mentor who taught him discipline, respect, and hard work. That’s how he became such a successful man. Eventually she realized it was the same load of bullshit he was feeding her as well as everyone else he met on his way to the top.

  She had been his personal assistant for three years and his girlfriend for two and a half. One day she walked into the office to tell him happy birthday and found his secretary sitting in his lap. Even if either of them had been wearing pants at the time, which they weren't, that would have been the end.

  Cynthia had no idea how long the affair had gone on or if she was the only one he’d cheated with, but she immediately gave her notice and walked out of his life both professionally and personally. It was the strongest she had ever been in her life, choosing what was best for her. There was no way she could continue being an assistant to a man that had crushed her heart, no matter how well he paid her.

  But now he was using his power over her to keep her from finding anything else. She was sure of it. He must have thought she was weak and would easily give up. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction, though. In fact, if anything this just gave her the resolve to continue with even more determination. And if he blacklisted her everywhere in Detroit, she would just move somewhere else. She'd never go back to him.

  She sped out of the garage, wanting to get home as quickly as possible. It was grocery and laundry day, but she didn't care. She needed something else tonight. She had to blow off some steam and get out. It had been far too long since she'd had a good girls night. Some good, old-fashioned fun was way past due. She’d call up her friends and make plans, surely they’d be happy to know she was finally coming out of hiding. She had wasted too much time with Winslow instead of paying attention to them for most of the last year.

  * * *

  Cynthia looked herself over in the mirror, trying to decide what to do with her hair. At work she always wore it in a bun or ponytail, but she wanted to look really good, like she was showing all of her exes what they were missing even if they wouldn’t be there.

  Her caramel colored skin and dark brown hair all reminded her of her mother, one of the kindest women anyone could know. But those features were the only places she saw her mother in herself. She had a lot of her father as well, like his thin build and green eyes which contrasted her skin so well. Her eyes had been her favorite feature all her life. In fact, it’s what her mother told her attracted her to Cynthia’s father in the first place.

  Of course, they weren't enough for them to stay married much longer than it took for Cynthia to come around, and her memories of her father were mostly from pictures and the few times a year he came a
round when she was a child. After she turned about ten she barely ever saw him anymore. It was around the same time her mother re-married, and Cynthia suspected that was part of the reason. The two men never really liked each other. Her birth father re-married as well and from what she heard was much happier. She just would have liked to have seen him more often.

  Her step-father, Grant, wasn't a bad guy; at least not to Cynthia. But like her own father, he had a child of his own from a previous marriage that he barely ever took the time to see either. Cynthia only met Dante a handful of times when she was in her teens. Grant seemed disappointed in Dante and had such a hatred for his ex wife that he never wanted to spend any time with the boy. Said he reminded her too much of her, which seemed like a pretty poor excuse not to see your son to Cynthia. Sometimes it seemed like the only other trait she got from her mother was her questionable choice in men.

  Cynthia smiled ruefully at the thought and picked up the flat iron and began to tame the unruly, frizzy tendrils while she waited for a response from her girls. She’d texted her three best friends and had only heard back from one who was unfortunately out of town with her husband. It was odd to think of friends she’d partied with at spring break in college as being married women, some of them even having children. But when you were thirty one and still unmarried it came with the territory.

  She kept telling herself that she was more like her father and would find love later in life. Cynthia always dated the wrong men, but it never started out seeming that way. It was like she was drawn to these rotten men who could pull a veil over their flaws for the first year and then boom, the real scumbag beneath was revealed. She’d been with alcoholics, druggies, co-workers, and even men who abused animals. It was a sad string of failures that she had to show for her decade of dating experience. She didn’t even have a divorce under her belt, and her friend Lana had two. Not that she wanted those kinds of failures, but at least Lana had gotten a house and a maid out of it.

  Cynthia heard her phone buzz as she unplugged the flat iron and headed to her bed to fetch it. Her apartment was so small that she made it by the third ring.

  “Hello?” Cynthia was hoping for good news from Lana about tonight.

  “Hi hun, I just got your message.”

  “Oh, great! Are you coming out tonight? It’s been way too long.”

  “Oh, you’re right about that Cynthia. I do miss you, hun. But, listen, Jen and I took a quick girl’s vacay to the Bahamas. I didn’t say anything cuz I thought you were still busy with that Wilford character.”

  “Winslow,” Cynthia corrected. “And we broke up. I caught him screwing his secretary.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! Men suck. But listen, we'll do something when we get back for sure, okay? I'll give you a call. I have to run as we’re about to get manis and pedis. So sorry about that asshole. Try not to take it too hard. His loss. Buh-bye.”

  Cynthia looked at the phone to see that her friend had already hung up. That meant all three of them were busy and weren’t going out.

  She glanced at the outfit she had laid out for herself and made a decision; she was going out anyway. She didn’t need a man to keep her safe or friends to have fun. She’d pick a bar and go drink and have fun and maybe meet a nicer man or make a new friend.

  She pulled on her thigh high fishnets and white skirt before topping it off with a black tee, red suspenders, and a page boy hat. “I look hot,” she told herself before walking out the door to hail a cab. No way was she driving tonight. She had three years of drinking to make up for.

  Chapter 2

  The cab pulled up to the entrance with a sign flashing The Blue Pig. Cynthia had never actually been here since it changed names two years earlier. It had a different scene now, but she had heard it had great specials. It was the first thing she’d thought of.

  Walking in she felt slightly out of place, though her clothing was pretty close to spot on. Most everyone in there had on leather, pleather, or fishnets. It was a smoking crowd, and she almost felt like she had to cut the air with a knife to get through to the bar to order a drink. She found one empty stool in between a couple who was practically having sex against the bar as they made out, and a small group of men hovering around each other with beers in their hands watching them.

  “What can I get ya?” Cynthia found herself startled by the sound of the voice speaking to her. She hadn’t noticed the bartender come up. It was a woman with scraggly hair below a hat not unlike her own, but that was the only similarity. She was dressed in a white muscle shirt that showed off the fact that she was a body builder and that she had tattoos all up and down her arms. She stared at Cynthia looking both bored and annoyed to be there. Clearly, the service had gotten worse since the bar changed.

  “I’ll take a Malibu and O.J. please.” Cynthia said it as flat as she could, letting the bartender know she was not impressed.

  “Here you go, sweetheart,” the bartender said sarcastically, passing her the drink with a napkin under it. “Would you like to keep that tab open?”

  “Yes, please,” she rolled her eyes and turned around in the stool to survey the crowd. She watched as an older man with a blue jean vest with patches all over it took a microphone and got up on the pitiful looking stage at the front. The place was packed, but it had its charms. People of all ages seemed to be mingling, and that was something you didn’t see every day.

  The man started doing karaoke to the song “Born to be Wild”. It was cute to watch the older guy gyrate and growl out the words as his old lady cheered him on in the crowd. That’s what she assumed the woman was anyway. Their do rags and attire made them seem like bikers for sure. Of course, they could have been living out their fantasies and pretending to be bikers at their age. Everyone was entitled to living out their fantasies, as far as she was concerned.

  After a few more songs a young woman took over and did a Joan Jett song. Cynthia found herself swiveling back and forth on the stool to the music and sipping on her second drink. The couple that had been playing tonsil hockey finally left, leaving an empty seat next to her. But near the end of the song her knee knocked right into someone, and she almost lost her balance. She had to uncross her legs in order to try and keep her balance, but the guy she bumped into caught her arm as well.

  She instantly felt her face heat up at how clumsy she’d been, turning herself into some kind of damsel in distress. “I’m so sorry,” she eked out as she looked up at the man, turning herself to face him. She almost choked on her own saliva as she looked him over.

  It was hard to tell how old he was; he had one of those timeless faces. He had on black jeans that looked like they had been worn down and a leather jacket. Underneath she could see he had on a tight black shirt that hugged his muscular tone. His short brown hair was tussled, but she could tell it had started the night off spiked at least a little bit. He was incredibly handsome, but also vaguely familiar. Probably because he reminded her of some sort of Calvin Klein underwear model.

  “That’s okay. I probably should have asked before I sat down here. I’m just used to taking what I want, although my mother would be horrified since she raised me to know how to treat a lady.” The man gave her a sly smile, and she tried not to stare or let her mouth hang open at the sound of his sexy, deep voice.

  She couldn’t think of what to say to him, so she just smiled back and turned around to order another drink. “I’ll get that on my tab, Josey,” the man told the bartender. Apparently him and the bartender were on a first name basis. How did he get on her good side? Cynthia’s mouth dropped open as the bartender, Josey apparently, winked at the man sitting next to her as she made Cynthia’s drink. She had to know his secret because she was pretty sure he wasn’t the bartender’s type.

  “My name’s Diesel.” He pulled her out of her thoughts as he officially introduced himself and reached his hand out to shake. “I promise I don’t bite.”

  She realized she’d been staring at his hand and frozen for a bit. He must have
thought she was slow or something. She took his hand and shook it, finding it to be very firm and callused. “Well, that’s too bad. I was hoping for a little nibble.” She couldn’t believe what just flew out of her mouth. Was she flirting with this guy? Oh well, at least it was a nice save. “I’m Cynthia. It’s nice to meet you.”