My Stepbrother's Rules: The Complete Series (Steamy Stepbrother Romance) (9 page)

I hung my head shamefully. Betraying Alex felt like a crime, but it was a small relief to get it off my chest.

“And what were you going to do with the money?” he asked.

His voice was icy. I could see the level of control it took for him not to shout.

“Hand it over to her.”

Did he think I was going to keep a cut of it?

“I wasn’t going to get a penny,” I said defensively. “She didn’t want me to tell you because she knew you wouldn’t go alone with it.”

“She was right about that.”

I’d really screwed up. Now Alex was mad at me. He’d never trust me again.

“And everything you said about your medical bills and debt? Was that all a lie?” he asked.

“No! That was true. I just thought it would be easier to get the money if…”

“If I felt sorry for you? Unbelievable. All your lecturing about our family’s ‘ill-gotten’ wealth and you behave like this?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I said lamely. “I was scared she would destroy your life.”

“May I interject?” the man asked.

I’d forgotten he was in the room. Neither of us responded.

“It’s my job to protect the interests of my clients. You have been a loyal member of our club for years and as such, I will deal with this problem with Miss Ivy.”

What club was Alex a member of? Wealthy men seemed to gravitate to this place. Maybe the mansion was more of a business venture than a home. The place was crawling with sex workers and wealthy men looking to buy their services.

The journalist in me was thinking a million miles an hour. What if the house was a front? What kind of business dealings went on behind closed doors? Were girls promised in exchange for business favors? It was too much to take in and completely irrelevant anyway. I would not be allowed to report on this. Or would I? If Ivy was out of the picture…

I looked at the thin man. He was more on top of things than Ivy. If I exposed the mansion’s secret, I’d be in bigger trouble than when I’d started. The man’s withering gaze forced me to look away.

“We have much to discuss,” the man said to Alex. “I’d suggest you leave the premises immediately, young lady.”

Alex turned to leave with the man.

“Alex, wait!”

He half turned to face me. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It sounded pathetic, but what else was there to say?

“This way,” the man said, escorting Alex out.

3

I called Alex a hundred times. I left so many voice messages that on my final call an automated voice informed me that his inbox was full.

I spent the next hour in a cold sweat pacing around my childhood bedroom in my parent’s home. I’d left so many rambling messages begging him to call me that I’d started to panic. What had I said? Had I made the situation worse? Who was I kidding? It couldn’t get any worse.

My cellphone rang. Without looking at the caller ID I answered it.

“Alex?”

“Christ! Where are you? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day.”

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. It was my editor.

“I’m working on the piece, but it’s a bust. I didn’t see a single powerful, important public figure,” I lied. “There’s no story.”

“What do you mean there’s no story? There’s always a story. Tell me what happened.”

“There were a lot of guys and they bought drinks for the girls…”

“Christ, you make it sound like some formal dance or something. I’m not interested in this. Were the girls from the club there?”

“Yes.”

I felt like I was being grilled by a lawyer in a courtroom.

“And was money exchanged for sex?”

Talking about sex with my editor made my skin crawl. It was like discussing sex with my father.

“Yes.”

“Then you have a story. Prostitution, BDSM, dirty sex, there’s your story.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? You were begging me for a chance to write this story. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Did someone threaten you?”

“No. Nothing happened. It’s fine. Look, I really want to get started on my piece. I think you’re going to love it. I’ll talk to you when I have a first draft complete. Bye.”

I hung up before he could ask me anymore questions. I checked the clock. It was after eight. I hadn’t heard from Ivy since the party. Had the strange man in the mansion dealt with her? What did ‘dealing’ with her mean?

I sat down on my bed; my lower back cramped. I straightened and tried to massage out the soreness.

My laptop sat on my desk. The letter of resignation I’d started to type stared at me on the screen.

‘It is with great regret that I…’

I couldn’t finish the sentence. Journalism was my dream profession and I was being forced to throw it all away. I looked at my cell phone. Alex wasn’t going to call. I’d probably lost him for good. If that was the case, then I had nothing left to lose. There was nothing stopping me from writing the story I wanted. The thin man in the mansion popped into my mind. He would not be pleased with an expose on his business. And what of Ivy? What if she hadn’t been silenced? There was only one way to find out. I picked up my coat and headed out the door.

4

I walked straight to the front of the line at The Red Room. I expected resistance from the bodyguard, but he simply nodded to me as I walked past him into the club.

It was the weekend and the place was packed. I squeezed between couples and passed beneath the sign that warned: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

I scanned the room; Ivy was nowhere in sight. She was known to change her style, switching between different wigs and makeup, but her corset and leather pants were a constant.

I made my way through the crowd, garnering strange looks from the clubgoers. I wasn’t dressed for the club. I was wearing jeans and a trench coat. In this crowd full of latex, leather, and half-naked girls, I stood out like a sore thumb. I made my way to the bar.

“Shirley Temple?” the bartender asked.

“Martini.”

“Coming up.”

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The man I’d encountered in the mansion with the Shakespearean voice walked out onto the stage. Ivy followed behind him at a distance. She did not look happy.

Her wig was gone. She wore her hair natural. It hung limply at her shoulders, a mousy brown. Her makeup was mute; her attire cheap. Her signature corset and leather pants were replaced by a latex bra with spikes and hot shorts.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was looking at a new girl.

The man spoke with a loud theatrical voice. Ivy looked like she wanted to kill him. A second girl walked out on stage. She stuck out her tongue to the audience. Men whistled and catcalled. She glowed at the attention. She pranced along the edge of the stage and twisted her pink pigtails around her fingers.

Ivy watched her with contempt.

“Let the show begin!” the man declared.

He jumped off the stage into the crowd. The stage lights turned a hazy shade of red. Ivy walked up to the girl and grabbed her by the pigtails, yanking her backwards. The girl yelped in surprise.

Everyone laughed.

Ivy led her by her pink hair to the middle of the stage. She forced the girl to her knees then whipped her twice with a riding crop.

“Down,” she ordered.

The girl dropped onto all-fours. She looked up with big, round blue eyes and pouted like a little girl. Ivy whipped her again. The girl flinched and bit her lip as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.

“Looks like I underestimated you,” a voice to my right said.

I turned to find the girl from the mansion who’d help me dress before the stage show. She was sipping on a drink; a small smirk twisted her face as if she tasted something sour.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The audience oohed and awed. I turned my attention back to the stage. Ivy had attached nipple clamps to the girl. They were connected to a metal chain wrapped around Ivy’s fist. She pulled hard, stretching the girl’s nipples.

“Scream for me,” Ivy ordered.

The girl let out a moan of pleasure. Ivy ran her hands through the girl’s pink hair.

“You’re a good pet,” she told her before forcing her onto her back.

She walked around the pink haired girl like a shark circling wounded prey. She raised her foot into the air. Ivy wore a pair of shiny, leather stiletto boots with a lethal looking six inch spiked heel.

She dropped her foot onto the girl’s chest. The stiletto went straight into her nipple. The crowd squirmed and murmured. They loved every second.

“Ivy got demoted. She lost the club, thanks to your boyfriend.”

The thin man at the mansion had acted quickly. I can’t say I was displeased. Ivy had threatened to destroy Alex’s life.

“Well, she looks like she’s right at home,” I said, motioning to the stage.

Ivy was securing chains to her Sub’s ankles. The restraints were attached to a hook on the ceiling. When Ivy pulled a rope, her Sub’s legs lifted into the air and spread wide.

The girl was panting and breathing heavily. Her chest rose and fell quickly. A flash of jealousy washed over me.

“And where is your boyfriend?” the girl beside me asked. “He hasn’t moved on, has he?”

She spoke as if she knew something I didn’t, but I could tell she was faking. She had no more knowledge of what Alex was going through than I did.

I watched for a few minutes longer as Ivy pulled out a huge purple vibrator. She rubbed it against her Sub’s pussy and pulled on her nipple clamps. The girl screamed with delight.

A hint of a smile spread across Ivy’s face. She didn’t want to show it, but she was enjoying herself. I could have stayed longer, but I had what I wanted: Ivy was officially out at the club. I was free to write a story without fear of reprisal from her, but what about the thin man?

5

I sat in front of my computer staring at the blinking cursor. I couldn’t decide how to approach the story. Should I play it safe and just cover the prostitution angle, omitting the rich, well-connected men I’d seen? Or, should I be brave and give the full story?

Ultimately, I ended up writing three accounts of my experience. One was heavily sanitized and left out any mention of the politicians I’d seen. The second exposed everything. The third was somewhere in between.

Now I had to decide which story to submit to my editor. I threw myself down on my bed. Where was Alex? I looked at my cell phone. No new calls.

I picked up the phone to call him again, then remembered his voicemail was full. I ran my fingertips over my bare skin. Red marks and fading bruises covered my thighs and back.

He wants you to chase him.

The memory came back to me in a rush. After the stage show at the mansion, Alex disappeared. The Dom at the show insisted that it was a cat and mouse game. Was Alex playing with me now?

I jumped out of bed. If that’s how he wanted it, fine. I would come to him.

6

I stood on the street looking up at Alex’s condo. The doorman was eyeing me suspiciously. It was three o’clock in the morning. I was uninvited and probably unwelcome. I walked up to the doorman with a bright smile on my face. I hoped he would simply open the door and let me in.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’m here to see Alex.”

“And is he expecting you?”

“Well, no, but it’s an emergency- a
family
emergency. I’m his stepsister.”

I pulled out my driver’s license and showed it to him, though I don’t know what it was supposed to prove since Alex and I have different last names. The doorman examined it closely. He looked up at me and handed it back.

“Could you call him?” I asked. “I’m sure he’ll confirm what I’m saying.”

“Why don’t you call him? You’re family. I’m sure you have his number.”

“My battery is dead,” I lied.

“Look, sweetheart, you’re the not the first girl who’s come around here in the middle of the night. Just forget about him and move on.”

I raised an eyebrow. I’d never thought of Alex as a lady’s man. Shows how much I know.

“That’s not what this is,” I said, though a part of me wondered if it was. “He really is my stepbrother. It’s important that I talk to him immediately.”

The doorman frowned and turned away. He walked inside the building, closing the door behind him. It was harder to get into Alex’s building than The Red Room. I shook my head and looked around impatiently. Drunken couples walked up and down the sidewalk; a car horn honked in the distance. It was the weekend and downtown was busy despite the hour.

The doorman approached with a sour look on his face. I braced myself for bad news.

“He says you can go up.”

“Really?”

The doorman opened the door for me. “Have a nice evening.”

I walked through the huge lobby to the elevators and rode up to the top floor. The doors opened on a huge penthouse apartment. This was the first time I’d ever been to Alex’s place. The size of it was shocking. Floor to ceiling windows gave panoramic views of the city. The apartment was decorated in a modern style. Everything looked expensive and sleek. I didn’t want to touch anything for fear of breaking it.

Alex was nowhere in sight. I walked to the window and looked up at the sky. The stars weren’t visible due to the light pollution.

I turned around. A staircase led up to a second floor loft. Alex stood at the foot of the stairs leaning up against the railing. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of silk boxers. His arms were crossed in front of his chest in a way that made his biceps bulge.

For a second, I forgot that he hated me. Then I saw his face. His eyes were intense; his jaw set as if it was made of stone.

“I went back to The Red Room,” I blurted out.

He turned his head to the side incredulously. I knew this was not what he wanted to hear, but I continued on anyway.

“I wanted to see what- if anything- happened to Ivy. Your friend at the mansion works quickly. She was demoted. She works alongside the girls now, putting on shows and whatnot.”

Alex was still watching closely, an angry look on his face.

“I didn’t hook up with any guys if that’s what you’re wondering. I went to the club to see about Ivy.”

“Why do you care about what happens to Ivy?” he asked.

“I wanted to make sure she was out of the picture, that she wasn’t a threat to you or me.”

“And now you’re free to write your article.”

“Yes, but more importantly I don’t have to worry about our relationship being used as a weapon against you.”

“You should have come to me. Ivy played on your naïveté. She knew that if you approached me, I’d go to Mr. Hirst. He doesn’t tolerate blackmail, or any sort of foolish games.”

Mr. Hirst must have been the thin man from the mansion, the one who ran everything.

“And now you’re banned from ever returning to the big house,” he added. “Not that I’m upset about that. You had no business being up there to begin with.”

“You didn’t seem disappointed to see me on stage.”

He took a step towards me.

“You think I didn’t have a problem watching someone else dominate you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, what are we doing? First, you introduce me to BDSM, then you tell me to stay away. Then you want to be my Dom, but you don’t want to tell me anything about the people in that world- many of which turned out to be dangerous. And now you hate me.”

My voice started to shake. I hated myself for being on the verge of tears, but the stress of the last week was catching up to me.

Alex uncrossed his arms and stepped forward.

“You’re right. This is my fault. I should have protected you.”

“I didn’t mean that everything is your fault. I’ve certainly played my part.”

It made me angry to admit it, but Alex was right: I’d been naïve.

“I should have known better than to think I could just walk into a world where I don’t belong,” I said.

It wasn’t just the BDSM world I didn’t fit into; it was Alex’s world as well.

“You won’t hear from me again,” I said. “I’m done with the clubs and the mansions. Once my story’s published, I’m done with all of it.”

“That’s not what I want- and I don’t hate you. I wish I hated you. It would make things easier.” He ran his hands through his hair and walked to the window. “I know I can’t stop you from publishing your story. But for your own good, you need to leave out what you saw at the mansion. No mention of Mr. Hirst or any of his patrons. If you threaten his business, he’ll see that you end up somewhere worse than you can ever imagine.”

“I won’t talk about the mansion,” I said.

It felt like a huge concession. The meatiest part of my story involved the mansion. I’d prepared for this possibility though. I’d have to submit the censored version of my story to my editor.

I turned away from Alex, training my gaze on the city. He took my chin and forced me to look at him.

“I don’t know if it makes a difference,” he said, “but I do believe you. You were trying to protect me when I should have been the one protecting you. I just wished you would have trusted me enough to come to me first.”

“I’m sorry.”

It didn’t feel like the time for excuses. A tiny spark of hope had ignited inside me. Maybe Alex and I still had a chance? I didn’t want to blow it by making lame excuses.

“Promise me you won’t go back to The Red Room?”

“I promise.”

“You have to be honest with me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, slipping back into my role as his Sub.

“No. Don’t say that. Just talk to me like a real person.”

“The truth is… I want you, but I want my career too.”

“You can have both.”

“If you knew my editor, you might think differently.”

“It will work out. I’ll help you. I know people who work in the media. If you lose your job over this I’ll find you a new one.”

I should have been grateful to have Alex’s connections, but I felt irritated.

“It’s not that simple. I want to succeed on my own without my family’s connections.”

Referring to Alex as family made me cringe. He was family, but he was also my Dom. Or at least I hoped he was still my Dom. I didn’t want to think of him as my stepbrother anymore.

“There’s only so much I can do to protect you from Mr. Hirst. Keep that in mind when you write your story.”

“Who protects you?” I asked.

“What happens when word gets out about us?”

“My colleagues would be wise not to pass judgment. They’re far from being saints. If word of their indiscretions were to leak it would devastate them. And trust me- they’ve got more skeletons in their closets than I do. Besides, I’ve made Mr. Hirst a lot of money. It’s to his advantage to ensure my reputation and business connections stay in place. Assuming, you don’t destroy his business.”

“I wouldn’t do anything that hurt you.”

“You have to trust me.”

“I do.”

My eyes started to cloud with tears. I didn’t want Alex to see me cry. I tried to turn away, but soon found myself in his arms.

“I won’t let you get hurt,” he whispered.

His mouth was close to my ear. If I turned my head slightly, our lips would meet. Would he return my kiss? As if reading my mind, he lifted my chin. His mouth found mine slowly. Hesitantly, our lips came together. It was as if we were each afraid of scaring the other away. Our lips barely touched.

We pulled away from each other, then met again. He kissed me hard, running his tongue over my lips. His hand slid down my back to my ass. He squeezed hard.

I moaned with a mixture of desire and pain. I was still sore from our last encounter.

Alex squeezed my ass harder. I bit his lip playfully.

Suddenly, he was pulling me away from the window and up the stairs. My heart raced. We walked past an open door. I peeked inside. It was obviously the master bedroom. Where was Alex leading me?

We moved quickly down a long, white hallway. The walls were strangely blank, devoid of any artwork. I felt like I was walking down a hall in a doctor’s office.

Finally, we approached a door with a keycode security system. Alex entered the code. The door opened with a hiss as if it was electrical. We stepped inside and were flooded with red light. The room was designed similarly to the infamous Red Rooms except this room was somehow sleeker and more modern looking.

Every surface was polished and shiny. Whips, handcuffs and various sex toys hung from hooks on the wall, or were locked up inside display cases as if they were prized museum artifacts.

The room appeared to have everything you could ever want out of a BDSM encounter. It made me wonder why Alex bothered with The Red Room at all. Maybe he liked the dirty environment, or the club girls. A spark of jealousy ignited in my stomach.

“I promised you I’d never return to The Red Room,” I said. “You have to promise me that you won’t return either.”

“As long as we’re together we belong to each other. I won’t return. But you have to promise me something in return.”

“What?”

Dread filled my stomach. I had a bad feeling that I was about to make another big concession.

“You have to break up with your boyfriend.”

“What?”

Then I remembered: the night Alex and I met in the kitchen of my mother and stepfather’s home. I’d been wearing boxers and Alex assumed they belonged to my boyfriend. I started to laugh.

“Why is that funny?” he asked.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I just let you think that to make you jealous.”

“I don’t get jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. You are the most possessive man I’ve ever known.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Do you want to fight or do you want to fuck?”

That shut me up quickly. The answer was obvious.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smile.

“Don’t get smug,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, easing back into my role as his Submissive like it was a second skin.

I took off my coat, tossing it to the floor. I kicked off my boots and shimmied out of my jeans. It wasn’t easy to undress in a sexy fashion when you’re wearing practical cold weather clothing.

Alex watched me struggle with my sweater with a smile on his face.

“Shut up,” I said, even though he hadn’t said anything.

Finally, I stood before him in my underwear. At least I’d chosen to put on my sexiest bra and panties today.

“Do you approve, Master?” I asked.

I turned in a circle before him.

“Very nice,” he said.

Alex spanked my ass and told me to walk to the center of the room. I looked around anxiously. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Where would we begin?

Alex walked past me and opened a drawer. He reached in and pulled out a long, black silk blindfold. The red light cast a strange glare on the silky fabric. It looked like a dead snake in his hands.

He slid the blindfold around my eyes and tied it tightly behind my head. My world went dark.

With one quick motion, my bra fell loose. Alex’s fingers passed along my side and over my curves, before stopping at my hip. He ripped my underwear, tearing them from my body.

I jumped at the violence of the motion. Then suddenly something light and airy was passing over my breasts and down my stomach. It felt like feathers. The tenderness of the gesture was startling.

The way Alex took me from one extreme to another left me edgy in the best possible way. I never knew what was coming next. It heightened my senses; the slightest touch left me trembling.