My Billionaire Stepbrother (Lexi's Sexy Billionaire Romance #1) Read Online Free Page A

watching her ignore Telly’s hello, handing him a gum wrapper as if he were a trash can.  
    “You owned that party, Parker,” she’s saying, now crossing to the elevator so she can ignore the attendant like she ignored Telly. “Duncan wants you to be more visible, but that brooding thing you do is sexy as hell. Not just to women, but men, too.”  
    I don’t comment on her implication that I turn straight men on by mere presence. I also don’t comment on the way she just said I turn women on rather than saying I turn her on.  
    “You’re just thirty. You’ll make the hit lists thanks to my birthday toast.”  
    I’ve already diverted away from the elevator toward the alcove to its right. I don’t bother to call her over. Sam comes of her own accord, her fine ass moving smoothly under her tight dress.  
    “Hit lists,” I repeat.  
    “You know, when they do the top thirty under thirty, that kind of thing?”  
    “But I’m not under thirty anymore.”  
    She gives me her catlike smile. “ Honey , you’re the talk of the industry. Any excuse to write you up, they’ll gobble it right up. You don’t give them much. Almost a recluse. That’s what Duncan keeps telling me: to get you out more. You’re this generation’s Howard Hughes.”  
    I don’t think that comparison is remotely apt, but I say nothing.  
    “But it’s a double-edged sword, Parker. If you hide too much, you won’t come off as brooding ; you’ll become invisible .” She stresses the words as if I might not have heard them before. “It’s good that you came out. And now that the press is reminded that you’ve hit a landmark birthday, they can do one of those semi-retrospective pieces where they talk about how far you’ve come, what you’ve built, how you changed the whole fucking game! Why do you think I made that toast? It was just a WinFinity party without it, but now it’s your birthday party, too.”  
    “So you didn’t make the toast to cheer my health.”  
    “No, of course not!” Samantha laughed. “Strategic moves, Parker. This is why you need me. As a partner. You’re smart, but you don’t consider your image. Your profile. You’re a hot, single billionaire, baby. You parlay that, they won’t be able to get enough of you.”  
    “You’re really on the ball, Sam.”
    She grabs my dick, right there in the lobby, puts her palm flat on my crotch and starts kneading. The elevator attendant (Carl) and the doorman (Telly) are right in her line of sight. Her thinking this is appropriate means one of two things, maybe both. Either she feels I pay enough for my penthouse that I should be able to act as lewd as I want, or she feels Carl and Telly aren’t human enough to demure for. Doing it front of them, to Samantha, is probably like doing it in front of dogs.
    “Damn right I’m on the ball,” she purrs, still kneading my junk. “What do you think you fuck me so much for?” As if this is how I pay her. She has it backward, though she does tend to orgasm loudly and frequently, so she’s getting something for sure.
    I watch her for a second, stiffening despite my best efforts to stay neutral. She finally lets go, and my resolve to end it slips another temporary notch.  
    I turn to the mailboxes and fish for my key. The boxes here are fancier than my first apartment. I’m barely exaggerating. Mine is giant — not because I want a massive mailbox, but because it’s required by management. I get too many perks and premiums from clients and wannabes. Last week alone, I received an Apple Watch, a silver Monopoly board, several Mont Blanc pens, and an Oliver Rugger umbrella — all just because. It’s funny; there was a day when the liquidated stuff I receive for free could have paid my rent for a decade. Back then, I had nothing. We had nothing. And yet it’s now — now that I own a Lear, a sprawling LA penthouse, two Teslas, and three Ferraris — people give me everything I’d never want.
    “When we