Page 2 of Hot For Her Stepbrother

When did he get here? When did he get out of prison? How is he the new owner?

The natural arch of Bodey Calisi's eyebrows makes him look like the devil. His dark brown hair flows with a softness to the back of his head. Its healthy flounce is a drastic contrast to the angular structure of his face. A pointed chin, high cheekbones, but he's not skinny anymore. Bodey has the build of an athlete that is easily seen under the expensive clothes he's wearing. Dark navy slacks do little to mask the thickness of his legs, and the light blue button-up shirt frames his muscles perfectly. God, he's gorgeous.

Bodey drops a leather duffle bag at Trevor's feet, arrogantly adjusting his cufflinks while his bulging arms flex under his shirt.

"Macklemore is no more. Welcome to Calisi Cars." Bodey tells the nearly dozen people standing around Trevor.

Wyatt's gaze darts between his brother and, well, my brother. Anxiety ripples through every syllable. "Wait a minute. You can't do this. Trevor told me this was going to be a partnership."

I haven't seen Bodey in over six years since my testimony put him away. My lies sent him to prison, and it's all crashing over me because I don't know how he found me. Fear rips through my body because I don't know what he has planned.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Bodey Calisi. I need you all to assume this is a hostile takeover. Every salesperson except for…" Bodey pauses, eyeing us with disdain. An added curl of his lip with hostility forms when his gaze reaches mine. "Avery Shaw, Edward Novak, and Summer Paxton, you three meet me in my new office. The rest of you are fired. See Trevor and this duffle bag for your severance packages. Get out."

My heart pounds as I look at Avery and Edward for answers. They're much older than me in their 30s. The weight of the world etches expressions of indifference on their faces. They're not enthusiastic about things like I am, but even I can see nothing good will come from this change in ownership.

Right now, I'm just thankful not to be alone with Bodey. We all take seats in the owner's office, where pictures of Trevor and his family still decorate the walls. I'm the last to enter, with Bodey coming inside the room behind me. I catch a whiff of his scent. It's sweet with a touch of something earthy, masculine but delicate.

I don't remember feeling this sensation all those years ago. I didn't like Bodey or his greasy father, Paulie. Paulie married my mother when I was 13 and brought his 18-year-old son around,who wanted nothing to do with our new family. If I'm being honest, I don't think Paulie wanted anything to do with us, either.

Mom's an easy ride. She paid for everything for us to make sure Paulie didn't leave her. I had to do what Paulie told me to do, and Paulie told me to lie. I didn't know it would get Bodey locked up.

For years, Bodey was my older step-brother. He didn't act like my older brother ever. It was more like we were an inconvenience in his life that he had to deal with. There was always an edge to Bodey, and it followed me. People didn't mess with me out of fear he'd come to my defense. Yet, I'm the only person who's ever come to my defense.

So when Paulie asked me to say two sentences in front of some mean-looking lady in a suit, I did what I thought was needed to help myself, to save myself. Because even as a teen, Mom decided I could fend for myself. Even now, not only do I have to be the responsible adult, but I have to take care of her from time to time as well.

The last straw for this attempt at a blended family was sending Bodey to prison. I didn't want to be a part of that family anymore. I threatened to run away, and instead, Mom finally did the right thing. She took me away from Paulie. We fled the gritty streets of Chicago and landed on the Monopoly game board of cities.

Atlantic City, New Jersey is the perfect town to disappear, but it's clear we're not doing the best job of hiding since I'm staring at my ruggedly handsome step-brother fresh out of prison. Well, perhaps not fresh because it's clear he's eating well, dressing well, doing well. How does Bodey get to look like a million bucks after serving six years while I have to scour my list of leads to make sure I get a customer and commission large enough to pay rent next month?

The look in Bodey's eyes is nothing like the usual stares I get from guys his age. There's no ogling of desire behind his hazel eyes. There's only hatred.

"Sit down, Summer," he commands as if we're the only two people in the room. Bodey leans back in the chair, pressing his fingertips together like a steeple in front of his face. "Do you guys know Matteo Scarpella?"

"Of course we do," Edward says. "Everyone in A.C. does."

He's not lying. A good portion of businesses running out of this city belonged or paid money to Mr. Scarpella.

"Good. So you'll understand me when I say I'm not just taking over Macklemore, but I'm running all of Mr. Scarpella's affairs from now on."

"Fuck," Edward hisses before straightening up in his chair. "My apologies, Mr. Calisi. Is it alright if I resign?"

"I'm with Edward." Avery finally speaks up in a quiet voice. "I don't want to get tangled up in yours or Mr. Scarpella's affairs. At least, not knowingly."

"That's a reasonable request," Bodey says with a nod. "You two are free to go."

They get up to leave, and I rise to follow them out when Bodey clears his throat behind me. I stop walking, knowing it's pointless for me to continue. When the others are out of the office, dread creeps down my spine.

"Little girl, sit the fuck down," Bodey snarls, pulling out a knife. It's all black with a steel handle and a blade so sharp it stands on end as he unfolds it from the handle to slam it on the desk.

Heat and fear trickle across the bridge of my nose, behind my eyes, where I feel tears welling, waiting to fall, but I sit quietly.

Bodey leans forward. "Now, tell me why I shouldn't slice you open ear to ear for sending me to prison."

CHAPTER 2

Bodey

Silky blonde hair falls in layers around Summer's beautiful face in a way that I want to tip her head back to see the lines of her slender neck. A neck I'm sure my hand wraps around nicely. Fantasies of me choking the life out of her morph into ones of me choking her while slamming my cock deep inside of her.