Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Read online

  He has a box tucked under his arm, wrapped in royal blue paper and tied with a silver bow, and a coffee cup in each hand. He hands me one of the cups, and I take it apprehensively. "What's all this?" I ask.

  "It's a peace offering," he says. "Three creams, two sugars."

  Four years since I walked out of his life, and he remembers how I take my coffee? He's being way too nice this morning. I peel off the lid of the coffee and sniff it, then look up at him. "Should I question whether it's been poisoned?"

  Gaige cocks his head to the side. "I'm horrified you even have to ask, darlin'," he says in that drawl of his, the one that practically drips with sex.

  I can't help but laugh. "Sure, because you'd never spike my drink with anything."

  "If you're referring to the moonshine incident, that happened four years ago, and I've matured since then," he says.

  "You're claiming to have matured?" I ask. "Now I definitely don't trust you."

  "You have to admit it was funny," he says. "And you were a lot more entertaining at my mother's event than you would have been otherwise."

  "Oh my God, Gaige, it was a charity event," I say. "A bunch of socialites didn't need to see me trying to do karaoke at a party where there wasn't even a band." At least Gaige escorted me out of the room without causing an even bigger scene than I'd already made that night.

  "I can hardly be faulted for what happened," he says. "If you recall correctly, I didn't exactly spike your drink. You stole mine, and it wasn't my fault it was leaded instead of unleaded fuel."

  "What?" I shake my head. "You didn't stop me from taking it!"

  Gaige shrugs, but his eyes are bright. "Caveat emptor," he says. "Let the buyer beware and all that. How would I know you had less than zero alcohol tolerance?"

  "Because I was eighteen," I say.

  Gaige laughs. "My tolerance was great, and I was eighteen."

  "You were wild." I put the lid back on the cup and Gaige watches me, chuckling. "I was innocent."

  A slow smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth, and my hand trembles just seeing that smirk. I have to steady it with my other hand. "Not that innocent," he says.

  The words are heavy, dripping with desire. Or maybe that's just the way they sound to me. I clear my throat to cut the tension between us. "Thanks, anyway, but I'll pass."

  "You really aren't going to drink it?" he asks. "You don't have room to complain, not after what you did later to get me back. I mean, you went the obvious route, so you got zero points for creativity, but whatever."

  "Laxatives in the coffee might not be that original," I agree. "But it was effective. You were running to the bathroom every five minutes, and that was good enough for me."

  Gaige sips from his cup. "I expected more from you, Delaney."

  "Next time I'll try not to disappoint." When he brings his cup away from his mouth, I reach out and take it from his hand.

  "What are you doing?"

  "I'm swapping with you." I hand him my cup, and take a sip of his while he laughs.

  "There is nothing in that," he says. "Cross my heart."

  "Then you can go ahead and drink that one. But I'm glad you've turned over a new leaf," I say. "No more pranks."

  "No more pranks," Gaige says. "Of course not. We've both grown up. And I've vowed to behave appropriately."

  "I'm glad to hear it," I say. I don't believe a damn word that comes out of that boy's mouth. Behave appropriately, my ass. I'm just glad he hasn't seen fit to strip naked right here in the office just for shits and grins. Okay, whatever, maybe I'm a little disappointed he hasn't seen fit to strip naked.

  "And as a token of goodwill, I brought you a gift." Gaige hands me the package.

  A knock on the door interrupts us, and my bitchy boss storms in, her jet-black hair pulled tight into a ponytail that makes her high cheekbones look even sharper. She's the kind of long-legged porcelain skinned girl you'd see on a runway, not in an office, but her attitude makes her appearance even more severe. "Delaney, HR is just a complete clusterfuck with your file, and they're up my ass instead of yours like they should be. Just because your father is who he is doesn't mean you -- oh."

  "Chelsea, this is Gaige – " I start, but she interrupts me with a look of scorn, immediately greeting Gaige with a kiss on the cheek, before thrusting the file into my hands.

  "Obviously I know Gaige," she says, her hand tracing along his bicep, her fingers lingering just a little too long to be appropriate.

  Irritation surges through me as I watch Chelsea touch him. "Of course," I say. "I didn't realize."

  "Gaige is a dear friend," Chelsea says, and the way Gaige glances at me, I wonder if he's slept with her.

  I struggle to maintain my composure, steeling my jaw. Of course Gaige is Chelsea's dear friend. I'm sure Gaige has a million other dear friends.

  It's totally irrelevant who he's slept with. I have zero claim on him. We fooled around years ago. And he's my stepbrother. I had a stupid teenage crush, and that's it. I'm not jealous, I tell myself. I just don't like Chelsea. To be more accurate, I didn't like her before. But now I'm starting to really hate her.

  The bitch's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Fix your PR paperwork, Delaney. If you can manage to fit that into your busy schedule," she says. "Gaige, we need to talk about this weekend."

  This weekend? Gaige addresses Chelsea, irritation in his voice. "Chelsea, there's something I need to talk to De - "

  "Vegas, Gaige," Chelsea says curtly. She turns to me for a brief moment before returning her attention to Gaige. "Your stepbrother and I are on a flight out to Vegas tonight, Delaney. Gaige, we need to go through the schedule."

  "Chelsea, I was in the middle of a conversation with Delaney, one I plan to finish," Gaige starts.

  "Oh, I'm sure it can wait," I interrupt. "Chelsea has a more immediate claim on your time, I think."

  His eyes meet mine, and I look away, ignoring him as Chelsea steers him out of the office.

  I set the package down on the desk, intending to leave it there, unopened, for the rest of the day. In fact, I should toss it in the trash. Leave it to Gaige to have slept with my perfect-looking boss, the one who hates me enough as it is. And, what's worse, be going to Vegas with her.

  I make it through the HR paperwork -- which takes all of thirty minutes -- and then sit there, staring at the gift box for another five minutes before I finally cave.

  I lift the lid off the box gingerly, half-afraid of what's inside. Knowing Gaige, it could be anything. When nothing jumps out at me and the box doesn't explode, I pull the lid off and set it aside.

  It's a cock. Gaige sent me a box with a freaking cock inside.

  As a first day at the office gift.

  I'm shaking my head and opening the note at the same time. I can't believe Gaige had the balls -- pun intended -- to send me a fucking dick, of all things.

  Delamey,

  Since you couldn't admit what you really wanted last night, I thought I'd remind you.

  P.S. It's a dildo made from a mold of my cock. I know, it's awesome, right? If you're lucky, someday you might get to see the real thing.

  P.P.S. The box is a TOOLbox. Get it?

  I stare at it in disbelief. That fucker actually sent me a dildo made from a mold of his cock? I shove the lid back on the box like the entire thing is radioactive, and stare at it for a few minutes, before pulling it back off and looking at it again.

  Holy crap. There's no way in hell that's Gaige's actual, no shit, real-life dick.

  I put the lid back.

  It cannot be made from his cock. He picked up the dildo at an adult store.

  Oh my God, what if it really is his? Pulling the lid off the box again, I touch my fingertips to the surface of the shaft, then jump back, like it's going to explode.

  Don't be ridiculous, I tell myself. Gaige did not have the time to make a mold of his cock.

  There's only one way to find out. The thought jumps into my head. Now, that is an inappropriate thoug