STAG: MC ROMANCE (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 7) (127 page)

A Stepbrother Romance

Leela Ash

Copyright ©2015 by Leela Ash. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Thank you so much for your interest in my work

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

Katherine checked her watch and sighed. The plane was going to be leaving in ten minutes, and she still couldn't find the right gate. She squinted up at the large sign above her head, wishing she could dig her reading glasses out of her luggage. She hadn't anticipated needing them so soon. Finally, through a stroke of luck, she saw the number she needed out of the corner of her eye and rushed just in time to make her flight.

In all honesty, it wouldn't have broken her heart to miss it. She was heading out of the country to attend her mother's wedding to some hoity-toity billionaire. As she settled into the first-class seat that her mother had set up for her, she leaned her head back and sighed. Her mother had a very specific taste in men, and she was sure, whether he was a billionaire or not, that he would match the same profile as the other assholes her mother had always gone for.

A flight attendant whisked by, asking everybody if they were comfortable and reminding them to fasten their seatbelts before takeoff. Katherine pulled the strap over her waist and smoothed the cardigan her mother had insisted she wear.

“You should wear something slimming,” she had said on the phone. “I really want you to make a good impression.”

It had made Katherine bristle. There was nothing wrong with her body. In fact, the men she had dated were all very pleased with her every curve. What did she care if her new stepfather thought she was fat? And so what if she was? She was also stunning, intelligent, and artistic. The opinion of her mother's latest boy-toy was the least of her concerns.

Still, she humored her mother and wore the cardigan, putting extra care into her makeup and jewelry. Even if the woman had always cared more about the next man in her bed than she did about her daughter, she still had a deep love and loyalty for her mother. And looking nice was more for herself, anyway. She would be meeting a lot of new people, and dressing up was just one way to boost her confidence so that her personality could shine through.

***

Dirk glanced from his father to his soon-to-be stepmother and sneered inwardly. They were taking this wedding really seriously, even though Dirk suspected that it was going to be a very short-lived relationship. The rehearsal dinner was scheduled to begin in the next hour, and they were deeply engaged in conversation with the priest. His future stepsister would be arriving soon, just in time to be introduced to the chaos of their parent's unholy union. He had no interest in meeting her, and the whole fiasco was really getting on his nerves. He had better things to do with his time than pretend to care who his dad was fucking.

He rose abruptly from the round, neatly decorated table where he had been lounging. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his tight shirt, revealing the dark marks of his neck and chest tattoos. Dirk caught his father's eye and stared at him challengingly as he pulled his hair tie out, letting his neat ponytail fall into a cascade of brown hair. His father opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and let him go.

There was no reason for him to be there. Not when he could be working on Sally, his antique motorcycle. A few of the parts had just arrived, and now that he had escaped the rehearsal dinner, he would be able to work on her in peace. He rolled up his shirtsleeves in anticipation, grinning to himself as the caterer for the rehearsal dinner stared at his bulging, inked up forearms. He winked at her and turned away, chuckling to himself about her reddened cheeks. Most women found him irresistible. And why wouldn't they? He worked hard to look this good. Not only that, but the appeal of his money seemed to seep right into his aura.

Dirk was feeling restless. He decided to take a walk around the island. There was a spot he liked to go to think when he was agitated. Sometimes it helped to calm him down; other times it just made him more angry. When that happened, he would work on Sally or go cause some trouble. There was nothing quite like picking a fight to make a man feel alive, especially when he knew he was always going to win. One thing Dirk never did was lose. Whether it was in business or a brawl, he came out on top.

He sat quietly on the large rock that overlooked the ocean, resting his chin in his hands. It was getting a little stubbly, and the short, bristly hairs scratched the skin on his palm. He briefly considered whether to shave for the wedding or not. Thoughts of the wedding filled him with a new bout of irritation, so he stood. He needed a drink.

Chapter 2

A limo had promptly picked Katherine up and whisked her away. Before she knew it, she was stepping out onto the enormous estate, where her mother and stepfather were waiting patiently to begin the rehearsal dinner. Katherine's bags were tugged away from her, and she watched as they disappeared in a blur of maroon-colored uniforms. Suddenly, she was being embraced tightly by her mother, who smelled strongly of wine, and pushed in the direction of her reserved-looking future stepfather, who nodded politely.

“You look great, mom,” Katherine said, smiling tightly. Her mother was in a black sequined dress, and her chest boasted a round, 24-karat gold locket.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. She had never called Katherine “dear” in all her life. Katherine could tell she was putting on airs, and it made her feel a little sick. However, they hadn't seen each other in a long time and she didn't want to succumb to her negative feelings toward her mother.

“This place is beautiful,” she said, a little begrudgingly.

“You haven't seen the half of it!” her mother said, suddenly excited. She pulled Katherine by the arm. “I'm going to show her the fountain!”

Katherine followed her mother's enthusiastic pulls until they were away from the tent where the rehearsal dinner was being held. Soon, they were standing in front of a giant fountain illuminated with blue and golden lights. It looked like an image out of a fairy tale.

“Isn't this
lovely
?” her mother asked. Katherine cringed at the use of another pretentious word she had never heard in her mother's voice.

“It's definitely something,” she agreed.

“Can you imagine? Me, married to a millionaire!” her mother exclaimed.

“Yeah. And here I thought the best you could do was that mechanic. I think he was the only one you brought around who had a job.”

“He wasn't so bad,” her mother said.

“He sexually abused me for two years!” Katherine cried.

“Yeah, well that's what you say,” her mother said dismissively.

“Because it's the truth! You always believe your boyfriends over me!” she exclaimed. “You have the worst taste in men. Makes me wonder what's wrong with the rich guy you snagged. Is he a murderer? Or maybe he's a mobster! That sounds about right.”

“You were always such a jealous child, and it seems like you're jealous now, too. You just can't stand to see me happy, can you?” Her mother's eyes filled with large, wine-induced tears, and she stormed back into the tent.

Katherine groaned. There was no way she would be able to handle a rehearsal dinner now, not with that woman. She heaved a heavy sigh and turned toward the collection of large buildings, wondering where on the island she could get a drink.

Chapter 3

Dirk stripped off his tie and dress shirt, revealing the tight tank top barely concealing his broad, muscular chest. Whether he was a billionaire or not, he didn't need to dress like one. It wasn't his style. Why would he want to look like a goody-two-shoes little prick like his father? Dirk was a self-made man. That was something his father would never be able to say about himself. Dirk's billions had come from years of hard work. His dad was just an inheritance kid who got handed a few million dollars and had no desire to work for more. He was used to all the work being done for him.

In Dirk's opinion, that wasn't honest. He would rather get his hands dirty like anybody else. And he wasn't afraid of being disinherited like the other idiots he had grown up with. Why would he, when he seemed to have a natural gift for making money? He had all the freedom he could ever want, and nobody, especially not his weaselly little father, could tell Dirk how to dress or behave. He had always been a willful and spunky child, and he had grown into a willful and stubborn man. The difference between him and his dad was that Dirk's attitude was the result of knowing who he was and exactly what he wanted. When it came right down to it, though, his own father was just spoiled.

The estate was set up like a country club. There was an open bar where some of the wedding guests were mingling, and he decided to head that way. As he emerged from the woods, he nearly collided with a woman whose eyes were downcast. When she saw him, she looked up and brightened.

“You look like you might know where I can get a drink,” she said, examining him up and down.

He laughed despite himself. He nodded, taking the stunning blonde woman by the arm. “Right this way.”

***

Katherine had been pleasantly surprised by the wall of raw masculinity that she had nearly collided with. He was the last kind of person she had expected to see somewhere like this. He had given her a cocky grin before taking her arm in his, nearly pinching it when his muscles flexed against her. Feeling the warmth of his strong arm against hers had sent a small thrill through her body, and he seemed neither surprised nor bothered when her gaze lingered on his chiseled face a little longer than it should have.

He led her to the huge mansion. They walked through a glass door and into a room that had the classiest bar she had ever seen. There were some fancy tables with a few people scattered at them, drinking and speaking softly to one another. He led her to a table in the corner, the farthest away from everybody else. She sat down, and he strutted to the bar. He was just as muscular from behind as he was from the front. She was embarrassed to discover that she couldn't take her eyes off him. As he passed each table, people nodded their respects to him. He strode by quickly, ignoring all of them, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar. Nobody said anything about it, and he returned to their table.

“You do straight whiskey?” he asked her, setting a heavy glass down in front of her.

“Is there any other way to do whiskey?” she asked, rubbing her temples. “That might not even be strong enough.”

“I know what you mean,” he said with a grin, pouring her a shot. He took a deep gulp from the bottle and sank into the seat across from her. “So what's your name?”

“Katherine,” she said, downing the shot. She squinted at its strength, and he laughed heartily, pouring her another.

“Nice to meet you, Kate,” he said pleasantly. “Where are you from? A small tribe of assholes lives on this island, and I don't think you fit in.”

“Good call,” she laughed, sliding the glass back in front of her and studying the caramel color of the whiskey. “I live in New York.”

“Ah, so you hail from a place with several tribes of assholes.”

“Pretty much,” she said, fighting the urge to defend her city.

“That's all right. Artists live there. You're an artist, aren't you?” he asked, his silver eyes twinkling.

“Artists can be assholes, too,” she countered, avoiding his question. She actually was an artist, but something about him made her think that he would use any bit of personal information she gave him against her. Whether to tease her or to exploit her, she wasn't sure. Either way, he seemed ruthless.

He flashed her a dazzling grin, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. She was briefly mesmerized, and took a moment to study him. His light brown hair fell past his shoulders, grazing against his biceps. The gentleness of the strands seemed a stark contrast to the intimidating tattoos they rested against, and she quickly took her eyes away and looked back up at his face. He was smiling at her like he could tell exactly what she was thinking.

He peered into her eyes as if to confirm her suspicions, and her cheeks reddened under his gaze. He laughed heartily, and she shrank back against her chair in embarrassment. His laughter subsided until all that was left was a smirk etched deeply into his face. He was ridiculously attractive, even with the sprinkle of stubble lining his strong jaw. If anything, it magnified his appeal. He was about as rugged as they came.

He opened his mouth to say something, his silver eyes twinkling, but suddenly his phone rang loudly. He looked alarmed and stood, fumbling to pull the phone out of his pocket. Suddenly, Katherine didn't exist anymore, and he was carried away in an urgent conversation. He turned his back on her and rushed out the door, leaving her at the table alone, with nothing but the bottle of whiskey to show he had ever been there at all.