FIERCED 1: A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Chapter THREE

I pass the weekend home alone, reading. Only going out of the compound to shoot photographs around the city, always with Sandro my minder, just three steps behind. I'm still livid with that big brute who pushed me up against the wall, forcing his thigh between my legs.

I can't get it out of my mind and spend an entire afternoon lying on my bed trying to picture him lying on top of me. Squashing me beneath his massive bulk. Great pangs of lust fire between my legs as I close my eyes and really feel his wide thigh muscle flexing against my pussy.

My fingertips trail up the side of my legs into the inner curve and all the way up to the aching crevasse. I cover the burning mound of my pussy and rub with increasing ferocity as I imagine the Rock would do, while his hot breath scalded into my neck. I tear back the side of my underwear and bury into my wet folds, swiping up and down the length of my slit.

A deep moan escapes my mouth, hanging open in my thrown back head as I rub circles around my open entrance. It takes moments before the waves and waves of pleasure thrash through my body to the edges of my skin. I have never managed to bring about such a tumultuous release before. Thanks to the powerful emotions I have stored up from that encounter in the hall.

“You're married?” My utter disbelief could not have been more jaw-dropping had he told me he was flying to Mars and been birthed by aliens. “But you're -”

I come very close to saying 'You're already married' but that isn't true any more. My mom, his wife, is dead and he's at liberty to take another one anytime he chooses. He just chose sooner rather than later and that seems like a smack in the face to her. If you love someone, surely you don't seek to replace them that fast.

“How? Where?”

“We flew to The Seychelles for the weekend. I only meant to surprise her with the ring but then it was so romantic that emotions got the better of us.”

“Didn't you want your family to attend?” As in me. My own father could not get married without me there. I mean it just doesn't happen. “Who is she? Do I even know her?”

“Yes and no. That's the surprise. She'll be here any moment. I should have waited to tell you.”

“No actually you should have told me much sooner and not waited.” I say, the pain making me vile.

“Now don't start throwing one of your temper fits, Lisa. You should be happy for me. Your mother would have wanted it and she never liked tantrums.”

“How dare you bring Mom into this when you've – defiled – her memory and brought-”

I'm stuttering and blubbering unable to get the words out through the thick goo of my rage and pain and total worthlessness when the door floats open and a vision appears. A woman I know, or think I know, literally wafts into the room and my father throws himself across the broad expanse to hold her arm as though she might fall and break.

How must it feel to know you're that precious to someone? That a man cares about you that deeply? In my envy I'm determined to hate her forever.

“Monica, please allow me the honor of introducing you to my daughter, Lisa.”

“Our daughter now, Cola. Hallo, my dear. I am so glad to meet you finally.”

The woman sweeps me into her bosomy embrace and I'm overcome with the sweet smell of her perfume. The clank of the diamonds dangling from her neck into my collarbone. She's a bundle of over-priced femininity and my father is plainly besotted.

“Yes, finally I get to meet the woman my Father’s been keeping a secret,” I say with clenched jaws as I break free from her suffocating hold.

“That I’m afraid is my fault. You see we're kept under tight contractual control at the studio and my publicity people have the run of me.” She gives me an ingratiating smile with arms held out in supplication like the helpless soul she clearly is not.

Studio?

Oh fuck, yeah, now I know where I've seen her. Some boring movie for the old folks my dad had made me sit through the only night in a year he spent any time with me. I should have known it wasn't a selfless act. He had no interest in us hanging out, he just wanted to get together with his paramour even through the magic of film.

Monica DeAngelis. That's her name. A movie star of a certain age who appears frequently in
People
magazine as one of the sexiest women in the world. Quite a
coup d'etat
for my diplomat dad. No wonder he couldn't wait to get the pre-nup inked.

“And your publicity people didn't want even close family finding out,” I snap.

“Now Lisa, what have I told you about temper?”

“It's okay, Cola,” Madam MovieStar says as she holds up her hand. I've never seen my dominant dad so docile as with this new bride. She is clearly wearing the pants for all her flowing silk gowns.

And why the fuck is she calling him Cola, like he's a fizzy pop? A flash image of the only other person who'd used that nickname makes the chasm between my legs clench anew.

“It's to be expected that she's upset,” Monica is clearly a woman who never stops mouthing off. “My dear, your father was afraid of this. He was worried that telling you about his new love would bring back too much pain about losing your mother.”

“Well he was right about one thing,” I whine.

“So you see why he didn't tell you. But I have a lovely surprise to make up for it.”

I was pretty much all out of excitement for lovely surprises at the moment.

“I have a movie premiere tonight and we're all going.”

“Oh, no -”

“Yes come on, don’t be a spoilsport. It will be a beautiful event with loads of glamorous movie stars to meet including Dante, who plays my lover in the film.”

Dante Nardo, my guilty passion when he was in
Dropkick
with Bruce Willis. Her lover? He ought to be playing her son.

“Wouldn't you like to meet Dante? I can personally introduce you.”

“Of course she's coming Monica,” my father interrupts. “Although I'm not sure I want her meeting hot Italian studs. But I do need her there for when we make the announcement to the world about our wedding on a secret island.”

Right. So I’m to be stuck with my usual role of dutiful sweet daughter, only now completely obscured by two narcissists instead of one.

“And I must get her some new clothes right this instant because you clearly haven't taken her shopping since her mother died. She looks a fright.”

I press my lips together and bite down hard on the soft skin, now dry with adrenalin from the desire to give her a bucking bronco treatment. The personal insult doesn't smart nearly as much as her reference to my mother. If she utters her name ever again I swear I'll-

“She's going through a phase,” Daddy says. “Please do take her for a makeover and bring her back in your own perfect image.”

Great, looking like the younger version of Morticia Addams. I just watched that movie on the weekend, while they were celebrating their love. I couldn't help fantasizing about living in that family. At least they had each other's backs.

I don't think I need go into details of the girl's getting-to-know-each-other shopping trip with my evil stepmother. Sure enough, the woman's a manipulative self-absorbed fiend but to give her some benefit of doubt, it's gotta come with the territory. Being a
numero uno
movie star would make you obsessed with your appearance and what people think of you. And it's all Monica talks about.

I don't care. I never asked for a replacement mom and although she pulls me in close when a roving
paparazzo
stops us for a picture, she's not taking the new role as seriously as she takes herself. Whenever a fan pulls out a phone for a selfie, it's all Monica and to hell with the new step daughter.

I'm all good with it and at least the woman has taste. I suggest a cool store called Humana Vintage but she sniffs and has the driver stop at Balenciaga. Just walking into that place is like entering a massive art gallery. Monica selects a strapless satin mini gown with a bell skirt just like I'd seen on Misha in a magazine. New shoes, mini purse and I'm done.

I haven't been out in forevs. I can survive a night out at a movie premiere gala especially if it means going skin to skin (okay sweaty palms but I can dream) with Dante Nardo.

My father and new step mom forget my existence the moment we step from the limousine. They're all about the red carpet, waving and turning this way and that to strike a pose for the paps. I wander along behind feeling like a dolled-up assistant and no one even wonders who the fuck I am.

Inside the massive warehouse at Cinecitta movie studios is decorated to look like what- an alien space station I guess. I get with the program by ditching the units and ordering a glass of prosecco from the bar. And then I turn and crash eyes with a gorgeous hunk, creamy tanned skin and filthy blonde hair.

“Don't I know you?” he says, which is not the greatest opener but still I cross one heel over the other foot and hitch my hip in a flirty little stance that allows me to squeeze my thighs together good and hard.

Because the guy is just. so. beautiful. His square cut jaw and green tinged eyes are the thing of movie heroes. Which he's gotta be but I'm not going to be lame and starstruck enough to ask.

“No, I'm not in the biz,” I say and extend a confident hand hoping the tremoring doesn't let me down. “Lisa St. James, Ambassador's daughter.”

“There you go, Ryan Jacks, diplomatic attache. Which makes us practically old friends, although I hope to change that.”

He's shaken my hand but continues to hold it in both his own, softly stroking one thumb along the ridge of my finger like it's – oh crap I have to get my mind out of the filth. Ever since that asshole in the hall, all my senses have been on overload.

“You're new in Italy?” I ask. “And you collect hands.” People are looking. It's time for him to release me much as I like the caress.

“Yeah just transferred from Morocco, sudden replacement. And sorry about the hand. It just seems to fit so naturally in mine.”

His glittering eyes delve into mine with a ton of promises I don't care if he never keeps, so long as I get to feel those lips as well as palms covering mine.

“My father, he gets a bit, you know, -”

“Uptight?”

“I was gonna go possessive but uptight works. He's just obsessed about me being abducted.” Ryan stifles a grimace. Does he think it could never happen to me? Or that I'm making myself out to be too important?

“Well I'd probably be the same if you were my girl,” Ryan, golden boy says. “Yeah, I definitely would. Are you going to the big party next week?”

“I don't get to go out too much. Which party is that?” Because I would love to continue the flirting. He's only been in Italy a short while but he's learning the art fast.

“Some biggie billionaire corporate devil is having the party of the century at his palace in Venice. There's gonna be movie stars and TV coverage. He's flying a whole bunch of veeps up there.”

“I guess my father will be invited seeing as he just married a movie star, but I'm unlikely to be extended one.”

“Well, you are definitely welcome to come as my date if you can lower yourself to taking the train. I'd sure love to-”

“Hey there,
Principessa
, so they let ol' bucking bronco out of the bullring for the night?”

There's no need to turn and check. I'd know that voice even in the firestorm at the end of the world. Unforgettable. It haunts every waking moment and all my fantasies of being taken hard in the dead of night. Or the middle of the afternoon. My fury rises with how much I despise this character and my body betrays me with a gush between my legs. Only question is what the fuck is he doing here at a movie premiere? Gotta ask.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Out on parole? Or furlough to instruct some movie actor playing a criminal?”

I turn to glare at him with all the loathing I can muster and my knees almost buckle beneath me. The guy is pure virility in a suit. The black and white only highlights his gorgeous face, the slicked back hair. He scrubs up like every woman's fantasy super spy. The designer jacket hugs the swell of his huge biceps and they kick right back at the snug fabric. Unlike Ryan whose tie is neat and perfect, Rocco wears his bow undone with the two tails hanging over his shoulders. I don't dare look down to check out the rippling thighs.

Do. Not. Look. Down.

Oh shit. My eyes trailed a sneak preview and he totally busted me out.

“Just doing a little stalking.” Now he's grinning like a maniac and Ryan is looking decidedly pissed.

“Are you going to introduce me to your, er friend?”

“I'm sorry for my rudeness but I don't know this person aside from the fact that he accosted me a few days ago in my own home.”

“He did what?” Ryan beefs up with the chest and fists which is sweet but maybe a little ridiculous unless he's a black belt. Beside the Rock he looks like Princess Leia. I mean he's a well enough built guy but Romeo Rocco is ripped.

“Relax dude,” Rocco says with a flick as though he's swatting at a fly. “The
principessa
and I got acquainted the other day right before -”