Playboy - A Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

Chapter 3

Cam

No way. This was too fucking weird.

Even though I’d been looking right at Anya for the last few minutes, I still couldn’t believe it was her. She was really here. I never thought I’d see her again
—
let alone be linked to her in a familial sense
—
but here she was, glaring at me as our parents hovered in the background.

“So I guess that’s a no on the closet, then?” I said, murmuring in her ear.

I’d only been kidding about the whole closet hook-up thing, just to watch her squirm. She looked so cute when she was pissed or embarrassed. I knew that from experience…an experience which I’d longed to repeat for the last year and a half. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had the pleasure, for reasons I was still unsure of.

I’d spent one amazing night with her after a party at my penthouse apartment in Tribeca, and one night only. She’d woken up while I was still asleep, left an abusive note on my mirror in lipstick and then vanished, never to be seen again.

Until now.

“Shut up,” she hissed back at me through her teeth before plastering on a smile. “Pierce…nice to see you! I had no idea Cam was your son.”

“Oh? Sorry, I thought I’d mentioned it before. Anyway, is everything okay?” my Dad asked, his eyebrows still raised as he took in my soaking wet head and shirt collar.

“Um…”

Anya’s voice faltered, and I wiped my dripping brow and grinned. “Sure, it’s all good. We were just playing around and Anya’s hand slipped. She didn’t actually mean to tip the water on me. She was just pretending like she was going to and did it by accident.”

I was still a bit ruffled that she’d left me the way she had eighteen months ago, but I wasn’t going to hold that against her and make life difficult for her by making her look bad to our parents for ditching a glass of water on me. She was too beautiful to stay mad at. Besides, I was stuck with her now, seeing as she was apparently my new stepsister, so I figured I may as well throw her a bone and help her out. Ha…
throw her a bone.

Yeah, she really wasn’t wrong about how immature my sense of humor was. I was kind of infamous for it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing I was infamous for.

“Ah, I see,” Dad replied. “So where do you two know each other from, then?”

“Some party ages ago,” I said, slinging an arm around Anya’s shoulder. She stiffened but didn’t protest. “We’re old buddies, aren’t we?”

I gave her a pointed look, and she nodded awkwardly. “Uh-huh. We’ve known each other since my freshman year of college,” she said. “I just never realized you guys were related.”

“Well, this is lovely!” Christina said, her face lighting up. I’d met her a few times, but I’d had no idea she and my father were so serious; serious enough to get married behind our backs. I’d also had no idea she was Anya’s mother.

“Yes, it is,” Dad agreed, his voice booming. “It’s much less awkward this way, with you two already being friends. Anyway, let’s go find our table.”

I guess I couldn’t be too surprised that Dad had married Christina so soon. After all, he’d been married five times already, and three of those marriages had occurred less than a year after meeting the respective women.

They’d also all ended after less than a year.

When he’d told me that he’d married Christina in Vegas last weekend, I hadn’t reacted with the excitement he’d obviously expected, but could he really blame me for that? Christina was relatively nice and all, but if this marriage lasted longer than six months, I’d eat my hat. Figuratively speaking, of course.

It wasn’t like my father cared all that much about my opinion on his relationships, anyway. He’d long since given up on trying to mold me into the perfect son and resigned himself to letting me be exactly who he thought I was.

The rebellious trust fund kid.

The irresponsible, arrogant race-car driver who’d been fired amidst a drug scandal.

The popular playboy-slash-model with a revolving door of women through his bedroom every week.

Those things were only half true, but if you read the newspapers and kept up with online gossip blogs, then you could be forgiven for thinking they were one-hundred percent true. In regards to the drug scandal, I’d been ousted from my racing gig a few months ago for alleged cocaine use. I’d never actually touched the stuff, but all my pit crew members were on it, so I’d been seen as guilty by association. The police had tested me, realized the truth and then let me go without laying any formal charges, but by that stage, the scandal had already broken in the tabloids.

Now every second person in the city thought I was addicted to blow, or at least formerly addicted to it.

It was bullshit, but that’s how things were when you were a big name in the city. Every detail of your life became public knowledge sooner or later, and when people got bored enough, they’d simply make shit up.

Considering all that, I certainly didn’t blame my father for thinking poorly of me sometimes. Even though I was innocent of the drug charges, I knew I’d fucked up more than once in my life in other ways, and he’d still always been there to quietly bail me out of my troubles. I was lucky to have someone as cool as him as a father, even if he was the only real parent I’d ever had. It was better than having two shitty parents.

After losing the race car driving gig, I’d vowed to do something to make it all up to him, but I hadn’t settled on what exactly that would be yet. I still had my modeling gigs, but modeling wasn’t a stable or serious enough job that would impress him and make him feel like I’d paid him back for all his help. He’d already made that all too clear when I’d first gotten involved with it.
Oh well.
I’d figure something out eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Till then, I was keeping myself occupied with mindless hookups, club visits and drinking sessions with friends. It was shit, but it kept my mind off how fucked up I’d felt in the last few months amidst the drug allegations.

We headed back over to the restaurant hostess, who smiled seductively and slipped me a piece of paper with what I assumed was her number on it as she brushed her hand over my pocket.

“Your table is this way,” she purred, keeping her eyes fixed on me. “Please, follow me.”

I smiled back and promptly screwed the paper up in my pocket, making a mental note to dispose of it later. I’d noticed Anya as soon as she walked into the restaurant earlier, and that hostess had been a complete bitch to her…so fuck her.

Not literally, of course. The only girl I wanted to fuck right now was Anya. She looked unbelievably sexy in her black stilettos; shoes I could tell she wasn’t used to walking in. They made her hips sway from side to side as she walked, albeit in a slightly wobbly way, and they added an extra curve to her already amazingly-rounded ass. I resisted the urge to smack it as I followed closely behind her towards our dinner table.

The thought triggered a distinct memory of the night I’d spent with Anya last year.

She was on all fours, balancing near the edge of the bed with her back arched and her perfect ass staring me right in the face. I was standing beside the bed, slamming in and out of her tight, wet pussy as she moaned and gasped, and I grinned and lightly spanked her gorgeous ass cheeks. Her flesh wobbled slightly as I pulled my hand away, and she let out a louder gasp than before.

‘Mmm…do that again,’ she moaned.

‘You like that, do you?’ I growled before slapping her ass again, drawing another long, whimpering moan from her throat.

She’d been so innocent when I’d met her, and now, only an hour later, she was already the best lay I’d ever had. She was wild, uninhibited and dirty; just how I liked it.

My dirty girl.

I shook the thoughts away just as she turned her head back over her shoulder and muttered something at me. “Did you know about this at all?” she asked. “Was it your idea of a joke to not tell me we’re related now?”

“No,” I replied. I’d been just as shocked as she was, although I’d hidden it fairly well. “I had no idea. I didn’t even know your last name, let alone who your Mom was, until now.”

She rolled her eyes like she didn’t believe me, and we took our seats a second later. The hostess simpered something about how a waiter would be right with us, and I ignored her, keeping my eyes on Anya instead.

A moment later, a waiter appeared to take our orders, and as he poured water into our glasses a moment later, Christina smiled at me from across the table. “It’s so nice to see you again, Cam. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, I think it’s been about three months since we last saw each other,” I replied. “That’s ages. It’s half as long as you two have known each other, after all.”

Dad stiffened and squared his jaw. “Cam…” he said in a warning tone.

“What?” I said, holding a hand up. “It was a joke.”

“We’ve been over this,” Dad replied. “Your jokes aren’t very funny, son. You have the sense of humor of a prepubescent boy.”

Anya snickered beside me.

“I thought it was funny,” Christina replied, winking at me. Hmm. Maybe she was cooler than I’d initially thought.

Dad rolled his eyes. “You’ll get sick of his silliness one day, sweetheart, believe me. So anyway, how’s college treating you, Anya?”

“Good,” Anya replied. “Very busy, though. My management minor requires a lot of hands-on work. I’m actually meant to get an internship for it soon.”

“Any luck finding anything?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ll keep looking. It’s New York. There’s always something.”

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Dad said with an approving nod. “Hopefully you’ll rub off on your new stepbrother.”

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows, giving me a thin smile, and I grinned back at him. He was just giving me shit; he wasn’t actually angry at me or anything.

“I’d rather rub off on you,” I murmured to Anya, pretending to lean over to grab my glass of water.

“Careful, or I’ll tip that one on your head too,” she whispered back.

I chuckled. I had to admit, she was witty, and that made it even more fun to play with her and make her squirm.

She ignored me for the next fifteen minutes to keep talking to my Dad, and I made small talk with Christina until our meals and drinks arrived, upon which my father tapped a teaspoon against his wine glass.

“Okay, everyone. Before we eat, I just want to properly thank you two kids for being here. I know this marriage came as a big shock to you, but not much is going to change for you other than the expansion of your family. You both already live on your own, so there’ll be no need for anyone to move when Christina moves in with me,” he said, looking at me and Anya before turning to her Mom. “And Christina...thank you for being you. I’m the luckiest man on earth. I can’t wait till the move is finalized, so that we can spend every night together for the rest of our lives.”

Ah, my father…ever the romantic. Let’s just hope it stuck this time.

He nodded at me and Anya, and we raised our wine glasses as Christina beamed at him. “Cheers,” I murmured before emptying my glass into my mouth.

“You’re supposed to drink wine slowly,” Anya said, looking at me. “Savor it. That way you get the best taste.”

I smiled at her and arched one eyebrow. “There are better things to taste at this table.”

She blushed, and I dipped my fork into my boeuf bourguignon. “Such as this,” I continued. “Tastes amazing. Didn’t think I was talking about you, did you, sis?”

“Of course not,” she replied in an acid tone before checking to see if our parents were listening. They weren’t. “I’m going to the bathroom. Can you meet me outside it in three minutes?”

“Sure. I’ll bring condoms.”

“God, you’re gross,” she hissed, standing up and pushing her chair in. “I just need to talk to you about something, that’s all.”

She excused herself to our parents and stalked away. Curious as to what she had to say to me, I headed to the restrooms exactly three minutes after she’d left the table. Who knows? Maybe she’d finally tell me why she left me high and dry without any explanation last year.

“Good, you’re here,” she said as I strode up to her. “Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but
please
don’t tell your Dad or my Mom what happened between us at that party.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. She wanted to know that her shameful little secret was safe.

“What makes you think I’d tell them?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just the way you’re acting, and the comments you keep making. They aren’t blind, deaf or stupid. If you keep doing it, they’ll catch on eventually.”

I took a step closer. “Maybe I like doing it,” I murmured. “I seem to remember you liked it too, once upon a time.”

She shied away. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Just keep it up, Cam. See what happens.”

I smirked. “Oh, I plan on keeping it up for you, princess…if you catch my drift.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Can you ever take anything seriously, even for just two minutes? Or would you explode and die if you didn’t get to make a sleazy, childish joke every five seconds?”