Mine - A Stepbrother Romance Read online

  I wasn’t the only one who adored her. Jeez, the whole world loved her.

  “My name’s Mason, by the way. Mason Crest. So now you have to tell me your name,” he said, lips quirked up.

  “Arizona,” I said. “Arizona Keller.”

  “Arizona. That’s an interesting name.”

  The way he said my name slowly as if he were rolling it around in his mouth and savoring it made my stomach turn to mush yet again.

  “My mother was born there,” I replied. “So that’s what my parents decided to name me.”

  “Well, Arizona,” he said, slipping a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “While you were over there serving canapés to that old couple earlier, I took the liberty of writing you this.”

  He handed me the paper, and my jaw dropped as I unfolded it. It was a check for a hundred thousand dollars.

  “Oh…oh my god! This is so generous! My boss will love you,” I said, practically stuttering every word. The feeling of holding so much wealth on just a little slip of paper was intense as hell; like nothing I’d ever felt…not that I’d get to keep the money to myself, though. It’d go straight to the hotel refurbishment plan.

  “Thought you’d like it,” he said before taking a final sip of his drink.

  “Thank you so much,” I said. “Really. This is amazing.”

  I put the check in my pocket and reached forward to take his empty glass. He slid his hand onto my forearm and gently stroked my skin, and every hair stood on end. His touch was electric.

  “So,” he said. “This thing should be winding up soon. Wanna get out of here? I’ve got a room upstairs.”

  “I…what do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant. How the hell was I meant to respond to that? Just because he’d given the hotel a massive donation didn’t mean I was automatically going to sleep with him, if that’s what he was implying.

  He smirked. “Oh, come on. You’ve spent half the night talking to me and throwing flirty glances my way. Don’t say you’re not into me.”

  “It’s my job to be attentive to customers,” I replied, my voice stiffening. “That includes you.”

  “So you flirt with me all night, take the money from me, and that’s it? Not interested at all?” he asked.

  I shook my head slowly. Christ, the nerve of this guy. If I’d originally had any interest in him, then it was fast waning due to his presumptuous attitude.

  He leaned forward, smug smile still fixed to his handsome features. “You know, that kinda makes you even hotter,” he said in a low voice that made my stomach do somersaults.

  I didn’t know what to say, and he pulled away. “Hey, I’m not saying that you owe me anything. Just misread the signals, I guess,” he said.

  “Um…yes, you did,” I said. “Thanks very much for your donation. I better give it to my boss before I accidentally lose it.”

  I forced a smile and hurried away before he saw how flushed my cheeks were. Sure, he was hot as hell, but I didn’t want to sleep with a sexy guy only hours after meeting him, even if he was the wealthy son of my favorite actress. Hell no. If a man really wanted me, he’d have to try a lot harder than that.

  I headed back to the kitchen to take more empty trays back and hand the check off to Barbara, and Tina glanced up at me as Barbara gleefully walked away with the donation.

  “Talk to your boyfriend again?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. I found out his name, though. It’s Mason Crest.”

  She clapped a hand to her mouth for a second. “Oh god. I thought he looked familiar. Layla Wade Crest’s son, right?”

  “Yep. He also…err…he kinda propositioned me. He wanted me to leave the gala with him and um…spend the night with him.”

  “Okay, seriously, Ari, I don’t mean to pressure you, but you have to do it! I know you have this whole ‘wanting to save your virginity for someone special’ thing, but he is special! He’s famous and hot as hell. And maybe it could turn into something awesome.”

  I pressed my lips into a line and reluctantly thought about it. Maybe she had a point. Maybe if I kept waiting for Mr. Right, I’d end up waiting forever. Mason Crest certainly was hot as hell…but I wasn’t a fan of the way he’d just spoken to me, as if he expected me to hook up with him. I couldn’t stand arrogance in people.

  “I don’t think so,” I finally replied. “He’s probably the kind of guy who’d never call me again afterwards. I really don’t want my first time to be like that. I want it to at least mean something.”

  “Bullshit. I saw the way he was looking at you. I bet you a million bucks he’d call you again. But…I have a suggestion. Go back to his room with him tonight and just hang out. Don’t have sex with him, just talk or whatever. If he’s a decent guy, he’ll still want to see you again no matter how long you want to wait.”

  “You know, I guess that’s actually not a bad idea,” I said, mulling it over in my head. But somehow I knew it wasn’t a good one either. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, and I didn’t know if I could spend a night just hanging out with him without inevitably going further. I might have been fairly innocent, but I knew what the tingling between my legs when I’d looked into his eyes had meant.

  Not only that, even if we did somehow manage to spend the night chatting and getting to know each other without doing the nasty, it wouldn’t take too long for him to realize we had nothing in common. We were from two vastly different worlds, and that would inevitably create problems, as much as idealistic Tina didn’t want to admit it.

  Ewan strode into the kitchen a moment later, a dark expression on his face.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said. “I hate some of these rich pricks.”

  “Huh? Why?” Tina asked.

  He looked at me. “You know that guy you were talking to earlier?”

  “Which one? The young one?” I asked.

  “Yeah, him. Mason something-rather, I think he said. Anyway, he just pulled me aside a minute ago and asked me about you.”

  “So?”

  He hesitated. “Okay, don’t be offended by this. The guy is just a dick. But he sort of asked me how much it would cost him to have you for the night. You know, for…”

  His voice trailed off, and my eyebrows shot to the ceiling.

  “Okay, fuck that guy,” Tina said, her delicate features contorted in a scowl. “Forget everything I said earlier. Don’t go near him.”

  “Believe me, I won’t,” I replied, trying not to let the hurt show on my face. Mason Crest thought I was some sort of hooker? What an asshole. Just because I made barely above minimum wage at a waitressing job didn’t mean I was willing to sell myself to men just to make a little extra.

  I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I’d only vaguely considered spending the night with him anyway, but it was still enough to shake me to the core. I’d almost considered going against my long-held beliefs just because a rich, quasi-famous and stunningly attractive man had dangled himself in front of me, and I couldn’t believe how dumb I’d been. Of course he was an asshole who thought all women were for sale. No one that sexy, smart and wealthy could actually be a halfway decent guy…right?

  “You okay?” Tina asked, blue eyes wide with concern.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied as my stomach turned over. “I just don’t feel very well all of a sudden. I shouldn’t have eaten that fish for dinner earlier.”

  “Go home,” Ewan said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure Barbara won’t mind.”

  “Err… have you met Barbara?” I said, plastering on a weak smile.

  He grinned at my quip. “Just ask. You never know.”

  With that, he and Tina went back to work, each flashing me sympathetic looks over their shoulders. Damn, now I didn’t just feel like an idiot, I felt like a pitied idiot, and my stomach was honestly not feeling great.

  Barbara was in the manager’s office, sorting out the donated checks we’d already received, and I hesitantly tapped on the door.
/>
  “Barbara? I’m really sorry, but I’ve suddenly got a splitting headache and stomach cramps. Do you mind if I leave a little early tonight?”

  “Sweetie, you handed me a check for a hundred grand ten minutes ago. I’d let you slap me right now if that’s what you wanted. Of course you can go home early. Go home right now if you want.”

  I gave her a weak smile and rushed out to the staff room to grab my handbag. That was the first time Barbara had ever been nice to me. I guess money really could buy anything…or anyone, more like it.

  I slipped out one of the back entrances, not wanting to risk seeing that Mason prick again, but as luck would have it, he was standing in the rear parking lot having a smoke. He took a drag of his cigarette and called out to me.

  “Hey! Arizona.”

  I knew I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t heard him, because he was right in front of me. The chilly wind blew loose wisps of my hair into my face as I stood there, frozen in time for what felt like ages but couldn’t have been more than mere seconds. I was unsure if my hands were trembling because it was cold or because I was angry.

  He stepped closer. “I didn’t know whether or not I’d run into you again tonight. Did your friend pass on my message?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yes, my friend passed along your message loud and clear. The answer is no, asshole.”

  I strode away, feeling slightly giddy. It wasn’t often that I stood up for myself like that, but it felt great. I didn’t turn my head to see if he’d followed me, and when I got into my car I was glad to note that he hadn’t.

  God, what a crappy night. At least I could be comforted in the fact that I’d never see him again.

  Mason Crest. What a bastard.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MASON

  Arizona. That was her name; the waitress from that hotel fundraiser in the middle-of-bumfuck-nowhere Wisconsin that I’d attended the other night. I couldn’t even remember the name of the town, or the hotel for that matter, even though I’d thrown a hundred grand their way…and yet her name played on my lips constantly.

  It had been seven whole days since I met her and was subsequently rejected, and try as I might I couldn’t put the whole thing out of my mind. It really wasn’t normal for me to be like this. Hot waitresses were a dime a dozen, and seeing as most of them recognized me from the tabloids and gossip sites, they were usually champing at the bit for a shot with me. Not just waitresses, of course. All kinds of girls. All looking for their shot to score with the son of Layla Wade Crest. I couldn’t say I didn’t like the attention most of the time, but I honestly didn’t get it. What had I ever done in my life to deserve such adoration and attention, aside from simply being born to a certain famous woman?

  That didn’t stop me from reaping the benefits, though. On any given day of the week I could be found in bed with any manner of woman; petite, tall, blonde, brunette, redheaded, slim, curvy…yeah, you get the drift. I loved women, and they sure as hell loved me.

  Except this Arizona girl.

  She’d barely even known me for five minutes before deciding she couldn’t stand me. What the fuck was up with that? I’d been drawn to her the second I laid eyes on her. Those big hazel eyes, that long dark hair…those delicate features and golden-tanned skin. Don’t even get me started on that body. She had a perky ass, decent-sized tits and curves that wouldn’t quit, and just thinking about it got me harder than anything. I’d laid on the charm thick as ever, desperate for a taste of those sweet lips, and she’d still ended up telling me to fuck off by the end of the night, even after I’d asked her workmate to pass on a message from me to her. I hadn’t been sure if I’d see her again that night seeing as she’d disappeared into the kitchen, so I’d given my number to her workmate along with a note saying I’d love to hear from her again. She’d never called. Oh well. Win some, lose some, I guess.

  Only I’d never lost before.

  No wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Now that I actually thought about it, I’d literally never been rejected before. Like I was saying, I normally didn’t even have to try to get girls to want me; they were happy to do all the work for me, and all I had to do was show up and tear their clothes off later.

  Right now I was speeding down the road to home, still trying to forget about her but failing miserably. I’d picked up a chick I’d banged a few times a while ago and had her in the front with me, and she was giggling and pawing at my pants as I concentrated on the road. Even though I’d just been hard thinking about Arizona, I went soft at the other girl’s touch. Christ. After that gala, my heart really hadn’t been in the game. This was the longest I’d been in years without some sort of action, and now I couldn’t even get hard with another chick.

  “What’s wrong?” she pouted as I pushed her hands away.

  “I’m trying to drive,” I said, only glancing at her for a second. She was wearing some sort of heavy floral perfume that almost made my eyes water. Spritzing on a little bit was fine, but she smelled like she’d marinated herself in it overnight.

  “That didn’t stop you last time,” she said, arching an eyebrow and running her tongue across her red lips, a sensual move meant to entice. I could see her out of the corner of my eye, and I resisted the urge to tell her just how fucking ridiculous she looked.

  I stopped the car next to a café and parked up on the curb. Pulling out my wallet, I looked over at her.

  “There’s a cab across the street. Use that to get home. This should cover it.”

  I handed her a hundred bucks, and she looked stupefied. “You only just picked me up!”

  I shook a hand at her impatiently. “I know, I know. I forgot I had stuff to do. See ya later, Emma.”

  “It’s Emily,” she hissed, grabbing her bag and exiting the car. She slammed the door and stalked across the road, and I rolled my eyes. So dramatic. So entitled. That’s the problem with most of these chicks. They’re all over you when they’re trying to get in your pants, but the minute you let them in, they act all prissy like you owe them something major in return for their pussies.

  I was about to head back onto the road when my cell phone buzzed. My mother. Of course.

  “Yeah?” I said, checking my teeth in the rear-view mirror to see if any spinach from my lunch was stuck in them.

  “I’ve been speaking with my accountants,” she announced, her voice high-pitched yet somehow still commanding. “You gave a hundred thousand dollars to that thing I was invited to in Wisconsin?”

  “Yeah, well, you asked me to go and donate something, so I did. But you’re welcome. It was fucking freezing out there.”

  I could practically hear her pursing her lips through the phone. “I thought we agreed on a maximum of fifty thousand for a donation. I might be rich, but I’m not a bottomless pit of money.”

  Bullshit. She was married to a goddamned billionaire - my stepfather, Roy Vierra. He owned one of the largest business conglomerates in the country, and while my mother liked to pretend her philanthropy money all came from her acting days, it mostly came from him.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, it was a really nice hotel.”

  “Hotel? I thought it was some sort of dairy factory. Cheese or something.”

  “Not everything in Wisconsin is related to cheese, Layla,” I replied. Jesus, did she even read any of her invitations? Nah, she probably got her douchebag ‘life coach’ Emile to do it for her. What the hell did anyone even need a life coach for? As long as you knew how to breathe, drink water and eat, then you pretty much had living nailed.

  “If it’s any consolation, the people of…whatever it’s called…now think you’re some sort of angel from above,” I hastily added.

  She sighed, but I knew those were the magic words. Anything to make her look good to the general public was enough to keep her happy. “All right, fine. Where are you? Last time I checked, it doesn’t take seven days to fly from Wisconsin to Rhode Island.”

  “I had stuff to do. I’ll be home soon.”r />
  By stuff I meant party, party, party. Hey, three of my friends had birthdays in the last week…couldn’t be helped, right?

  “Good. And Mason? Stop calling me Layla. You know what the press would think of that if they ever heard.”

  “All right, Mom.”

  I hung up in disgust. She didn’t want me to call her Mom because of any familial bond - it was all about her image. If the media got wind of the fact that her own son called her by her first name, it might ruin her stellar, family-friendly reputation.

  Family-friendly. Ha. One time, she’d adopted an orphaned little boy from Malawi just to make herself look good to all the magazines. After a few months she’d realized she didn’t actually want the responsibility of taking care of him, so he’d been shipped back off to Africa to stay with some distant relatives of his who’d agreed to take him in return for a nice fat check every month. She paid up, of course, to guarantee their silence. God forbid the world find out that she’d treated a poor African kid like an expendable toy.

  Yep, that was the kind of woman Layla Wade Crest was. Media darling, real-life Medusa.

  I lit up a cigarette and sucked on it, enjoying the rush of nicotine as I headed back to our house. Well, it wasn’t really a house by most of the population’s standards. It was a mansion, and just one of the many we had available to us at any time depending on where we were. Before my mother had married Roy, she’d been wealthy in her own right from all her movies, but she still hadn’t been able to afford to have a mansion on an estate in almost every single state like he did, not to mention the myriad of vacation homes overseas. She was rich compared to most people in the world, but Roy was stratospherically rich.

  He was actually a really decent guy, and I’d never had a problem with him. Better than my real father, who was an ignorant asshole who’d never seemed to care that I even existed. I had no idea what Roy saw in my shallow, two-faced mother, but each to their own, I guess.