Billionaire Stepbrother - Secret Lives (6 page)

“I’m heading to the conference room to get ready for the new client. Do you need anything before I go?” Cynthia asked, standing up with her laptop in hand. The tension had started to subside after lunch, and the silence didn’t seem purposeful anymore while they worked. He had even been able to help her find a new vendor to contact for supplies.

Just as she walked out the door, a familiar man popped in beside her. He could see her nose wrinkle in disgust. It was the P.I. he hired to follow her. He had missed their meeting on Friday, and he half expected that the guy would just run off with the money, but it was irrelevant since he was confident now that he could trust her.

“Do you need any help with this one, Dante?” she asked. He brought himself down from the high of hearing his name roll off her tongue so he could answer. As soon as he admitted to himself his attraction to her, he couldn’t stop pining for her. He felt like a teenage boy instead of a man in his late thirties.

“No, I’ve got this one. You go meet with that client.” He winked at her as she turned around again and headed out the door with a curious look on her face. Meeting with this guy at the office obviously wasn’t a good idea.

“So, are you banging that yet?” The man crudely said, making Dante feel like knocking his teeth out. If it wouldn’t expose him, he’d offer him a spot in the club just so they could beat the shit out of him.

“So, what did you find? You’re several days late, so it better be good.”

The man began picking at his teeth. It must have been some kind of tick. He set an envelope on the desk with photos sticking out. “What are you, the Paparazzi?” Dante asked as he began going through the dozens of photographs of Cynthia. The P.I. was turning into more of a stalker than an investigator. Most of the photos were of her along at the store or talking on the phone or even some headed to the office. None of it gave away much of anything other than that she spent most of her time alone, which made him a little sad for some reason.

Then, he ran across photos of her picking up flowers from her doorstep and people delivering such things. Then a black car in front of her apartment. It looked a little creepy and ominous, but it was the only picture like it. Who was sending her flowers, though? It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. “Is this it?” he questioned the P.I.

“Honestly, she seems totally clean other than the fact she’s gotten a couple calls from the CEO of some company named Vosh. I wasn’t sure if that would mean anything to you. Maybe he’s like a competitor or something, but the phone calls are unanswered. Do you want me to keep following her?” Despite wanting to know more about the flowers and the black car, Dante no longer felt comfortable with this surveillance.

“Lay low for a bit, and just keep an eye on her a little. Just report anything suspicious to my cell phone, but there’s no need for anything else. I appreciate your services.” He knew he should cancel it completely, but he wanted to make sure there was nothing else going on with Vosh or that asshole CEO anymore. He felt like continuing to watch her was more for her protection at this point.

“Gotcha,” the guy replied before getting up and waddling out of his office without another word. Dante was beginning to regret his dealings with the guy, but it was easier than finding someone else. This would at least keep her safe in case Winslow tried anything.

* * *

Dante walked into The Blue Pig to find Bryant, his VP, sitting at the bar and Ax off in the corner with Liz doing who knows what. They were all supposed to be meeting there in the next half hour to discuss their next move. Dante, known only as Diesel by the club members, was planning on bringing up a private security contract as well as the possibility of staffing the bike shop with another member as business picked up. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to go over well, but he had to try.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was almost time for Billy to be off his shift and heading that way. Maybe he could get something out of these three before anyone else got there. “Diesel!” Liz called, coming up for air with her hands still wrapped around a very lustful Ax. She jumped up from her seat on his lap, her hair and clothing askew, and ran at him like a bat out of hell. He was sure to catch her, knowing she was going to jump on him. That’s just what she was like. For a moment he imagined Cynthia doing the same and had to clear his mind before the growth in his pants gave Liz the wrong idea.

He put her down on the stool next to Bryant carefully, smelling the alcohol and weed on her. From the looks of her eyes, she’d probably been doing blow as well, but he didn’t dare say anything. She was unbearable without it.

Diesel took the seat on the other side of Bryant who was drowning himself in several shots of tequila, though he was probably only tipsy. Bryant was over six foot five and a pretty big guy. It took a lot to get him drunk.

“Hey Bryant, what’s up?” he asked, trying to sound friendly. Bryant was always there for him, but he was increasingly annoyed with the way Diesel was choosing to make money for the club. It made him wonder if he was one of the members against him, but he had yet to hear any more than just a few grumbles from the big man.

“Nothin, buddy, just quenching my thirst over here with Missy.” Bryant raised his glass to the female bartender that pretty much called the bar home. She was the same bartender that had served him and Cynthia the night they met.

“You know, the two of you would make a great couple,” Liz chimed in, causing both Diesel and the bartender to break out in laughter. Bryant, however, shot her a glare after spitting half his shot out in shock. He didn’t seem to find the suggestion very funny.

“Oh, c’mon man, can’t you take a joke?” Diesel teased, slapping him on the back. “But hey, can we talk for a moment?” he whispered into Bryant’s ear. Bryant nodded and set his shot glass down before walking away with his president to find a seat farther away from the rest of the club. Out of the corner of his eye, Diesel noticed a few more members coming in for their meeting.

“Is there something going on within the club that I should know about? It’s been pretty rocky lately, and I’m not sure why. I was hoping my right hand man could help me out.” Diesel tried to flash an encouraging smile so that his VP would trust him with the truth no matter what it was. He really had to figure out where the heart of the animosity was or the club would crumble and so would his double life.

“I don’t know, man. I’d be lying if I said everyone was happy with the direction we’re going. I mean, it just seems like it’s not a motorcycle club anymore. We're an MC, and we should be making money and chaos, you know? I don’t think everyone is wrapping their head around all this legal stuff. Even I'm getting a little bored... but hopefully it all work itself out, right?”

Diesel tried to read Bryant’s face, but he got nothing, and Bryant wouldn’t meet his eyes. He was about to ask something else when he heard his name called and had to go meet the rest of the club that had now filled the bar. Billy had arrived with his old lady as well as most of the rest of the members. He could see Pops, the oldest member, coming through the crowd to get to him.

“What the fuck is up, Diesel?” he asked with enthusiasm, slapping him on the shoulder. Pops was also a pretty big guy, but he was all bacon fat and loved every bit of being that way. Diesel got the feeling he was going to be sore from the slap later.

“Not a whole lot, just here hanging with my family, waiting for everyone to grace us with their presence and all that shit. How about you?”

“Actually, I was wanting to ask a favor. The old lady rode on my bike with me today cuz hers took a shit on her this morning. Not sure what’s going on with it, and you know I’m not the tinkering type. Would you mind giving it a look at some point and seeing what you can do? I’d really like my freedom back. I mean, I love her, but it’s just different with someone else on it, you know?” Dante nodded. He didn’t even know how Pops had landed a girlfriend. He had always been a free bird type, but Gem seemed to adore him and the life even though she was about to be sixty years old. She was one of the few women that hung with a club that had a bike of her own.

“Yeah, if you could find a way to get it to that shop after the meeting or tomorrow morning, Billy and I will take a look. I’m sure it’s a pretty easy fix.”

“Okay, I owe you one man. I always thought it was dumb as piss to let a woman have her own bike, like she could take care of the thing.” The old man chuckled and went to the bar to get a drink. A few other members were throwing darts, and Liz was back in her corner with Ax, her skirt hiked all the way up to show nothing but bare skin. If he thought it would be of any use he’d ask them to stop, but Ax treated Liz like a drug. She seemed to intoxicate him and turn his brain to mush.

He decided it was time to call the meeting to order, so he grabbed a beer from the bartender and went to stand up on the karaoke stage. Putting his fingers to his lips, he let out a whistle that got everyone’s attention, and they began to find seats or at least permanent spots where they could see and hear Dante. Liz remained on Ax’s lap, and turned the chair sideways so they could both see.

“So, I’d like to let you guys know that the repair shop we bought is doing much better under Billy’s care and the new manager. I have lots of ideas moving forward like customization, but I think we’ll need some extra help soon on weekdays if anyone would be willing to work a couple shifts. Come and let me know in the next couple of weeks.”

Dante looked around at all the bored faces and felt instantly intimidated. It seemed to be getting worse instead of better. “Also, I have a possible contract for some private security. There’s about to be some filming for a major motion picture going on downtown, and they need some crowd control as well as individual security for some of the actors. It’s a big contract, so your cooperation is crucial and required. It’s going to take all of us to do this job. All those who really work hard at this will be greatly rewarded, but those who just fucking piddle around and don’t help with shit will be on notice.”

He started getting more serious as he heard some groans from the crowd. It was really starting to piss him off the way they were disregarding his authority.

“And one other thing, and I want all of you to open up your fucking ears and hear me. Like it or not I am your president, I am the fucking pirate king of this damn club, and what I say goes. Just because some of you think I’m softer than your last leader doesn’t mean you won’t be just as sorry for going against me.”

He bunched his hands into fists and stepped off the stage, heading for the bar. He needed to chill the fuck out before he got so pissed that they would be right to mutiny against him.

“Diesel, Diesel, Diesel, Diesel!” Five or six people were chanting at their president, urging him to drink down the Irish car bomb he had just been handed. It had to be his fifth drink or so, and he had no intention of stopping. His family was turning against him, and it felt like shit. He just wanted to get smashed and forget all about it. It felt good to have some of them still cheering him on, seeing him as their fearless leader.

The bar had officially opened for business other than the club, and Dante was beginning to regret telling Cynthia she had to stay away from the place. Half of the club had coupled up and found a dark corner or a back room to fuck in, and it was making him feel incredibly lonely. It seemed everyone had someone other than him. Even Billy, who was more than a decade younger had found a girl to call his old lady, and here he was, the president of an infamous motorcycle club, without anyone to call his own. No wonder they didn’t respect him.

Growing up had been rough on the streets of Detroit. He’d been alone having to fend for himself for so long after his parents had given up on him. Admittedly, he hadn't been an easy teenager to manage, but the club had saved him from himself and the many other gangs that would have been a lot worse. He’d fallen right into the routine of being a member of Devil’s Pirates MC, and the vice president had taught him how to repair the bikes. It was how he had learned what he needed to start Essential Steel. Once Cynthia and his parents were gone from his life, the MC became his family and he cared more for them than his own parents. He never blamed Cynthia for any of it, of course.  She was so young at the time, and barely even knew him. He knew she had no idea what was going on, and he also knew her own father pretty much abandoned her as well.

But the only relationships he’d ever had with women were nothing but sex, and there wasn’t even much of that to show for himself. He never did learn how to form any deep bonds. It had come naturally with being part of a group, but on his own he seemed to be worthless. He was fucking pathetic, and he knew it.

Those surrounding him erupted in a cheer as he guzzled down his drink and ordered something else. Bryant came up and tried to take his keys, but Dante got in his face, feeling suddenly furious at the man he had so often considered to be practically a brother. But before he could totally ruin their relationship, he backed down. “You can have that drink I just ordered. I’ve probably had too many, so I’m gonna get out of here. Cover for me, okay? I just don’t feel like hanging around tonight.”

Bryant slapped him on the back and walked him to the door, giving him a squeeze before he stumbled out the exit. As Dante looked around at the warm Detroit night, he could feel the humidity in his bones. It was going to rain; he could smell it, and the downtown skyline rose before him. He couldn’t see his own office from where he stood, but he knew it was just on the other side of downtown. He didn’t want to go home to his big, empty apartment. He was feeling down, and he knew he was a bit drunk. Despite this, he rode his bike up to the office, knowing it would be empty other than security and the janitorial staff. He could sober up there and think through his next move with the MC. It always felt more comfortable to him than his apartment anyway.

When he got to the office, he hid the bike around the back; the side not facing the main road. He left his jacket on top of it so his patch wouldn’t give his secret away. His bike was recognizable, and he didn’t need questions later if any of the club drove by on their way home or to the after party.

He swiped his card to get into the building and tried to look natural as he passed the two security guards on the first floor before getting to the elevator and hopping on. It was up to the fourth floor for him and to his office. Luckily, he only passed one more officer before reaching his door and unlocking it. He was sure to lock himself in and shut the shade.

Dante pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels from the drawer at the bottom of his desk. He kept it there for the occasional office celebration, but he was feeling like he might need a little liquid courage while he figured out how to take down the faction that was rising against him in the MC. He was almost sure it was only a matter of time before they did something drastic. But as he sat there thinking it through, he had the increasing urge for some help, a clear mind to go over the problem with him, but who?

There was only one person who knew his secret and might be able to help him figure it all out. So he picked up his phone and texted Cynthia, telling her he needed her at the office for a work emergency.

* * *

Cynthia sat up in bed to the sound of her phone buzzing. She had laid down only an hour before and was trying to get some rest. Winslow had assaulted her with phone calls almost all night, and she was getting tired of it. She was ready to threaten a restraining order when she looked at her phone and saw that it wasn't her ex boss, this time, but her new one.

The time read 12:07 a.m., and she wasn't sure why Dante would text her at such an hour. The message had a lot of typos, but he wanted her at the office for a work emergency. It wouldn’t be the first time she worked that late. Winslow often had her attend events that went into the wee hours of the morning, but she didn’t really think Dante needed a companion. It must really be serious.

Be there in a few.

She texted him back and climbed out of bed to pull on the first thing she could find. Hopefully Essential Steel afterhours didn’t have a dress code because she was not about to do her face up again or get dressed in a business suit. Jeans and a tee shirt would have to do.

She ran her fingers through her hair, leaving it down and hoping it would behave long enough for her to take care of whatever it was Dante needed. At least Essential Steel was only twenty minutes away from her apartment.

When she got there, she parked out front and gave her name to the security officers. One of them escorted her up to the fourth floor where Dante’s office was. It felt like she was in prison or something, unable to move anywhere without an officer next to her. She knocked on his office door, and he came to open it. He had the shade pulled down, and she couldn’t help but notice the bottle of Jack on his desk. He smelled a little boozy for sure, but he didn’t look falling-over drunk, just tipsy.

“Hi Dante, what’s going on?” He was wearing his street clothes instead of his suit and she was becoming increasingly curious as to why he'd asked her there.

“Saw the MC tonight, and they really seem against me. I just didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry if I woke you up in the middle of the night for something non work related.”

She looked at him sympathetically and saw that he was really vulnerable, more so than she thought him possible of being. But she wasn’t sure why he wanted her there. Did he just want to vent or did he want her to help in some way? She wasn’t sure what help she could give him, but it was a part of her job to keep his secret and assist him. Even if it wasn't, she wouldn't turn her back on him.

“What happened?” she asked, hoping he’d get to the bottom of it quickly. Despite their relationship becoming closer lately, he was still her bad boy, motorcycle riding stepbrother boss, and quite possibly very drunk. There were many ways this situation might go wrong. Although, she could think of a few that might end in them going pretty right, as well. Despite everything, even in the darkness and his drunken, vulnerable state, Dante was still incredibly handsome.

* * *

Dante almost forgot what he was supposed to be talking to Cynthia about because she was so sexy in her tight jeans. He had only seen her in her normal clothes once, and he hadn’t really looked at her then the way he was looking at her now. She had come to his rescue without a question, and even if she thought it was for work it was a pretty big deal considering the time. And once she arrived, she hadn’t run away despite the fact that he was pretty sure he reeked of booze.

Her hair was down, which was a rare sight, and he had the strong urge to reach out and feel some of it. It looked like it would be so soft. He wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but he didn’t think he’d really texted her to talk about the motorcycle club anymore. He was sure he just wanted her company.

“We had a meeting, and I threatened them, basically demanded that it was my way or the highway. They all seemed to be against me, Cynthia. I’m not sure who is my friend and who is my enemy anymore.”

He felt himself being pulled to her, and he ignored all reason as he just went with it.

“I’m sorry, Dante. I know how important the club is to you.” Her eyes seemed to say something that she didn’t, and her breath picked up as if his closeness made her nervous.

“It is, but sometimes I wonder if I still belong there. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere else, though, either.” It was the first time he had admitted such a thing to himself much less to anyone else. Cynthia seemed to put him in the mood to spill his guts, among other things. “To be honest, my main motivation these days is keeping the club together, mostly because I just don't have anyone else.” He didn’t say it out loud, but he knew immediately that he wanted Cynthia to be that someone else.

He took another step forward, and while she seemed uncomfortable, she also didn’t back away. “What are you doing?” she asked him, and he could almost taste her breath.

“This,” he answered, placing his hands on either side of her face and pulling her in for a kiss; the most meaningful kiss he’d ever given. He let it linger, delighting in the fact that she didn't recoil immediately, but unsure whether it was because she shared his desire or was paralyzed in fear. As he pulled away, he felt his own fear swell with in him. Fear of rejection as he waited for her reaction.

Would she run, or would she stay?