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

seventeen, a year older than me. But something in his half-lidded eyes looked older — easily in his twenties. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans, clearly annoyed to be where he was.  
    “Angela, this is my son, Parker.”  
    Parker’s eyes were on our ratty doormat. So I said, “Hey.”  
    Mumbling, he replied: “Hey.”  
    “Parker, this is Angela.”  
    “I figured that out … Bill .”
      Bill’s eyes flicked to me. A tiny nod passed between us, and they both came in.  
    Bill led Parker into the living room and plunked him on the couch. Mom sat in the big chair. I sat where I’d been earlier, across from the coffee table. Our meeting should have been somewhere else — doing an activity rather than sitting around in the living room. I didn’t know if we were supposed to go around in a circle like a support group sharing our feelings, or what.  
    “So,” said Parker after a few moments of silence. “This is fun.”  
    I thought he was joking. Parker looked up, and because I was across from him, our eyes met. His were hard and angry. An almost-smile fell off my face. He’d come in with a chip on his shoulder and seemed determined to keep it. He looked toward his father, shook his head, and leaned back with his arms crossed. He had a lean, scrappy look. His arms were casually handsome with sharp striations of muscle. He had the same size frame as my boyfriend at the time — not too large, not too small. But the same weight on Parker looked … somehow harder .  
    “Parker is into music,” Bill said.  
    “Oh, yes,” Mom chimed. “He plays guitar.”  
    Parker looked at her. I wasn’t sure if the three of them had even met, but Mom had, I assumed, heard plenty. Enough to know that Parker was going to be as cool and borderline rude as he was already being.  
    Parker looked at his feet, kicking at something under the table.  
    “Tell them what kind of guitar you play, Parker.”  
    Parker looked at his father. A smile rose on one half of his mouth. For a second, I thought it looked almost cute, then I realized it was condescension. He turned his gaze on us, his face falsely indulgent, his hair a pleasant mess, his jawline square, his eyes more experienced than any seventeen-year-old’s should be.  
    “A blue one,” he said.  
    Mom smiled. “Angela plays the flute.”
    Then no one spoke for fifteen seconds.
    “So.” Bill slapped his legs and stood. “Anyone want anything to drink?”  
    Again, that smile tugged the corner of Parker’s mouth. Without looking up from the floor, he said, “You do.”  
    My mom’s eyes ticked toward Bill then me. I was only observing, not sure what to think. I was sitting with my legs uncrossed in the chair, leaning back, sometimes running a hand idly through the sides of my long, chestnut-brown hair like I still do today. Mom and Bill both seemed as if they thought they shouldn’t let the comment go then decided to anyway. Though if I hadn’t been there, I’m assuming the scene would have been different.  
    “Do you want anything, Angela?”  
    “Maybe a Diet Coke.”  
    Maybe it was the mention of “diet” that made Parker look at me. Maybe he thought I was being prissy, like a girl who goes on a steakhouse date and orders a salad. His eyes were on me for maybe three seconds, but I felt the gaze a lot longer than that. In those three seconds, he traveled from my legs to my middle to my face. Then his eyes fell back down, and he resumed kicking at a ball of paper that on the floor.  
    “Anything for you, Parker?”  
    “No.”  
    “You sure?”  
    “Yeah.”  
    Mom asked for a glass of water, but I’m sure she did it so I wouldn’t be the only one with an order. Bill, awkwardly, got nothing for himself. He handed me the Diet Coke and Mom her water. He didn’t sit. I cracked open the can and sipped, feeling heavy eyes upon me.  
    “Maybe we should go look at rooms,” Bill said.  
    Parker looked up. “Good idea.