Billion Dollar Bastard: An Alpha Male Step Brother Billionaire Romance (6 page)

I bit my lip. The offer was tempting. But no, I couldn’t afford to waste time in the lap of luxury here. Even if it looked like my career was safe for the time being, I still had work to do. Still had research to do. Classes to plan. There was always work to do.

“That’s sweet of you, bro. But I should be getting back. The weekends are just about the only time I have to get work done on my own research.”

“Oh, come on… Have a little fun, sis,” Kyle continued. He began to unbutton his shirt, slowly, but with precise movements. I found myself biting my lip. No. No. No. This wasn’t what I was supposed to want. But damn it… It was what I wanted… When he was about halfway down his strong, well-formed chest, he glanced up at me.

“What’s wrong? We’re brother and sister. Nothing weird about that—it’s like we’re just sharing a room at mom and dad’s house.”

“It’s nothing like that and you know it,” I laughed, grabbing a throw pillow and hurling it at him. He caught it effortlessly and flung it back at me.

“Fine, it’s not, but only because I was at college and you were in prep school—otherwise, it would have been totally normal. We could have been normal brother and sister.”

I smiled.

“Would you really have wanted that?” I asked, my voice teasing.

“You’re asking, really? I tried. I always tried to get you to loosen up, to hang out with me. I always tried to treat you like a little sister. You act like you’ve never seen any movies about brothers and sisters, silly!”

“Stealing my stuff, making me miserable—you call that treating me like a little sister?”

“Have you ever seen a brother and sister? That’s what they do.”

I rolled my eyes and he finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he stripped off his undershirt.

Oh, god, he was gorgeous. And he was walking towards me. Don’t stare, Karen, don’t stare, don’t stare.

“I’ll have a car take you to the train station then,” Kyle said smoothly, his voice like buttery silk. I could see a tiny glimpse of his flesh, his beautiful, powerful flesh. And damn it, I wanted to see more. I hated myself for it but I wanted it. “And I’ll see you next week when we announce the donation?”

“Sure… Sure… Next week…” I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

He wrapped his arms around me, giving me one more big hug. At first, I felt frozen in his embrace, but then I melted into it, sighing and savoring his scent once more, the strength and warmth of his body. I had to resist the urge to lean up and kiss his neck, resist the urge to make this more than just a friendly embrace… To make this something sordid and… Exciting. More exciting.

“It was good to see you, sis,” he whispered as we broke apart. “Don’t be a stranger.”

And then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes, leaning into that little token of affection.

“Same to you, bro,” I replied, and then drifted out of the condo.

As I rode down the elevator, I realized my heart was pounding in my chest and I had broken out in a wet sweat. I was practically feverish. Hell, I was more turned on than I had ever been in my life!

Oh, god… And Kyle would be there to give me the department’s donation, in front of all my colleagues? How the hell was I ever going to keep it together?!

I did my best to brush those thoughts out of my mind as I focused once more on the scent of his cologne and his flesh… No. That wasn’t productive either.

Work. I had work to do. No time for stepbrother billionaires.

KYLE

The next week came and went in a blur. The busier you are, the faster time moves, I suppose.

Nicholas was delighted when I told him about my decision. We met once more in my office and, once more, he helped himself to a glass of scotch.

“That’s a damned good idea, Kyle,” he said. “People will love this. Just be careful that it doesn’t look like total nepotism.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s good that you’re providing scholarships for all these students, is all. Focus on that. Otherwise, it’s got to look a little odd… You start showering money on a university English department and you’re sister gets a job out of it.”

“She’s not my sister anymore,” I replied hotly.

“But that’s not how it’s going to play.”

“But she’s not—“

“Listen to me, Kyle. I’m trying to help you. I’m telling you how it’s going to play in the tabloids, how it’s going to play on the news. It’s going to look like you’re propping up your sister, which is fine, whatever—if we change the focus, if the focus is ‘Badboy Billionaire Shows Heart of Gold; Sends Poor Kids to College,’ great. If the headline is ‘Badboy Billionaire Bribes College to Keep Sis’s Job’… You’re not much better off than you were before.”

I sighed. He was right. Damn it, but he was always right. This was why I kept him around, after all.

“So, are you going to write my speech for me? I’ve got this ceremony at the college for it tomorrow.”

“I’ve already got a draft. Add your own flair and you’re golden, buddy.”

This called for a scotch. I clicked my phone and my secretary answered.

“Yes, Mr. Stone?”

“Tell my 4:30 that I’ll be fifteen minutes late. Mr. Blink and I have some spreadsheets to look over.”

“Of course, Mr. Stone.”

Her voice disappeared and I shot a grin at Nicholas as he poured me a glass. We clinked and took simultaneous sips.

“To the Silliman University English department!” I declared.

“And to nineteenth-century American literature saving your ass.”

I finished my drink with Nicholas over small talk: what his family was up to, when they were heading up to Cape Cod to go boating and camping, and so on. I kept promising to come camping with him and his family—this was their great passion—but things always got in the way.

Besides, rugged outdoors living isn’t really my style. I can do it, of course, but I much prefer luxury and exotic locales. I’ll take a tavern in Athens or a bistro in Paris over a tent on the Cape any day.

I made my way through my afternoon and evening meetings in a daze. I found myself… Excited. Excited to see Karen again.

This feeling was so damned strange. I knew I wanted to fuck her, of course. I wanted to fuck her even when she was my stepsister and damned if I was going to fail now.

But even more than that, I imagined having wine with her, having a cup of coffee, walking down the old, cobbled back streets of Brooklyn, arm in arm in the winter time, the chill of the coming season sending shivers up and down our spines as I draw her close…

I liked the way she teased me. I liked the warm, feisty glow in her eyes when she called me out. It was something Liana never did. Liana would simply roll her eyes, or even ignore me—always in her own little world, so many light years away from me, away from Earth.

But Karen was present in so many ways, lived so deeply, felt so passionately about what she was doing.

Passion. Feelings. God. What was I turning into? Had my divorce made me go soft?

I never bothered with this bullshit before. I never made love before; I only fucked. Now, yes, I wanted to fuck Karen, but more than that, I wanted to make love to her: to kiss her neck, kiss her plump lips, kiss my way down her toned, firm body and feel her tremble and squirm beneath me, feel her pleasure bursting through her skin…

I wanted that more than I wanted to bend her over my desk and plow her.

Admittedly, I’d still like to do that too. But not as much as I wanted her in bed, as I wanted to treat her like a princess and woo her.

God, what was wrong with me?

Whatever. She would submit to me before long. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that women can’t resist a man with a fat cock and a fatter wallet. Before long, she would be all mine. It felt so taboo, so wrong—but after all, we weren’t related by birth. There was nothing illegal about it.

I would have rather had her when she was sixteen but now was just as much fun. I hadn’t been with anyone since my divorce and I was craving the touch of a woman, craving the feeling of hot, soft flesh beneath me…

And, no matter how much I might try to deny it, I craved the sound of her laugh and the sound of her delighted squeals just as much.

Oh, damn it all to hell. What had I gotten myself into here?

At least the donation meant I would be close to her… Close to her always. For the next few years, as long as she was a professor at Silliman. She would be mine.

And, in the mean time, so long as we played it right, the tabloids would eat it up.

Friday evening finally came and I left the office at noon to drive up to Silliman. Pulling away from the city in my silver Jaguar, I found myself glancing behind myself absentmindedly, even as I dipped in and out of traffic. There, behind me, was the city skyline, framed beautifully in blue. It rose up, bearing over me as I raced away from it, like a monster chasing a child in a nightmare. But this was no nightmare.

This city still was my destiny. I was positive about that. And there was nothing that would come in between me… And it.

And along the way, I would fuck whomever I wanted. Maybe even make love to them.

To her. To Karen.

I arrived at Silliman around three o’clock and was at the Faculty Club by three-thirty. Karen met me outside, wearing a smart, professional suit with a skirt that nonetheless showed off her shapely legs and rear. All that Crossfit had really been paying off for my homegirl.

“All good?” I asked, sliding my hand coolly around her waist as we strode into the Club. I saw her look down at my hand in indecision. I wasn’t about to move it.

Move it, Karen. Move it if you don’t want it there.

But she didn’t move it. If anything, she sidled closer to me, and I could smell the fragrance of he perfume, could feel the hotness of her skin and how close she was to me. She was close enough to touch, to taste. I could have her right now.

“Oh, Professor Kennedy,” Karen said suddenly, pulling away from me after only a few steps into the luxurious old club. Imagine an Ivy League university to yourself, and the Silliman University Faculty Club will pop into your mind: beautiful old Gothic architecture and, inside, gorgeous old wood and stone-work, with luxuriant red carpets and smartly dressed students and teachers everywhere.

“This is my brother, Kyle Stone. Well, ex-brother, actually.”

“Ex-step brother, to be perfectly accurate,” I corrected gently, grasping Anthony’s hand. He was old, grey, and Irish, though still fit, even if he did walk with a noticeable limp. His handshake was firm and powerful. I liked that. I respected that.

“Mr. Stone, it’s a pleasure. We can’t tell you how much we appreciate your gift.”

“Professor, call me Kyle. It’s all thanks to Karen here—she convinced me absolutely of the importance of the work you do here. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

“And I probably wouldn’t be here much longer without you,” Karen said with a smile. Anthony smiled grimly. I nodded seriously.

“Well, we all have our debts,” I whispered, my voice low enough so that only she would here as Anthony turned to greet another professor.

A look of surprise flashed over her face, though not just surprise—it was more… Intrigue? I couldn’t explain it, but my hand once again found its way around her waist, going lower and lower, till it was all but resting on her behind. I felt her freeze, but then melt under my arm.

“We… We should go get our seats,” she whispered as the guests started to file into the auditorium. “We’ll be on the stage.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I expected no less.”

Inside the huge, soaring auditorium, we found the rows packed: professors from other departments, administrators, students, community leaders, and more. As we strode up to the stage, I watched the eyes watching me.

I could feel them, picking me apart, looking at me as if I were made of money. Bastards, all of them. Thinking I’d fun their after school program or their research trips or their dissertations, let them expand and get themselves fancy new raises, enough to buy a new car, put a new addition on the house…

But could I blame them? Wasn’t Karen treating me the same way?

I didn’t want to admit it but… She was, wasn’t she? There was no reason she would have called me, talked to me, met with me, had she not needed my money.

I felt my face darkening as we ascended the stage and took our seats. I focused and forced a gentlemanly smile onto my face. When you’re a rich man, a powerful man, you learn fast that society expects you to do what you’re doing with a pleasant smile on your face.

Even if you’re skinning a company, firing a thousand workers, shorting the housing market—do it with a smile, pretend you’re just oh-so-delighted to be here.

Pretend that everyone isn’t just looking at you, seeing a dollar amount hanging over your head and wondering how much they can slice off.

“I’m nervous,” Karen whispered, her voice musical and giddy. “I always get nervous before public speaking.”

“Don’t you do that all the time? You do lectures every week in class, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure. And I get nervous before those too.”

“You should work on that,” I whispered back, letting my lips touch her ear. I felt her gasp slightly and then her elbow digging into my ribs.

Yes, I liked that. No matter how much money she was hoping to slice out of my bloated bank account, I liked the way she laughed, the way she giggled. I liked it bad.

The auditorium quieted down and Anthony took the stage, limping up to the podium. He cleared his throat. The impression was one of a gruff old lion about to address his pride.

“Friends and faculty, students and people of the community, welcome to Silliman University’s Wordsworth Auditorium on this glorious fall day. We’ve got a beautiful blue sky, the sun is shining, and the last of the leaves are just barely hanging onto the trees before winter sets in. This is a great time of year, and it’s my pleasure to announce some truly great news with you.”

He flipped a page in his briefing packet. I knew the page he flipped to well. It was the page that outlined the talking points that Anthony was to address. Nicholas had sent them over two days ago.

“Kyle Stone is one of America’s most successful entrepreneurs and, I think, one of its most socially conscious thinkers. You can imagine my delight when, earlier this year, he approached the department, hoping to support the work we do and especially research into American literature. Well, I told him—we’re always happy to have a few more research grants. Hell, if he’d like to bankroll a professorship, we wouldn’t say no to that.”

Chuckles ran through the auditorium.

“But no, Kyle went above and beyond even that. Not only am I proud to announce the Stone Research Grant, which offers $5,000 for summer research in the area of American literature—and we’ve got ten of those to give out every year, and not only do I get to announce the Kyle Stone Endowed Chair of 19
th
Century American Literature and Women’s Studies, a position to which we are appointing our very own Karen O’Lowry—“