Stepbrother Gigolo (A Stepbrother Romance Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

They’re about to introduce you."
    I grabbed my drink and pushed my hair back behind my ears. "Sorry, I was miles away."
    "I could see that. For a minute there, I thought you were asleep."
    "Asleep? I…I was just daydreaming, that's all."
    "Well," she replied with a grin, "you did have your eyes closed."
    I tried to ignore the dampness between my legs as I stood up and gathered my thoughts. My panties were warm and soaking wet and I worried whether my excitement would begin to trickle down my bare inner thighs soon. At least they hadn't been ripped off, like I had just imagined.
    "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to our artist who created the wonderful works that you see around you…Kara Reynolds!"
    I politely nodded my head, still uncomfortable at receiving applause from strangers. For all my bravado and attempts to portray myself as a confident woman – which, I think I'm probably successful at some of the time if not all of the time – a part of me felt almost guilty at receiving any kind of praise for my work. I had grown accustomed to having the belief drummed into me that I was a sellout, a fraud of some kind – that what I was creating wasn't real art just something to pay the bills. I'm not going to lie, a lot of that was true.
    I always dreamed of having my own studio, whiling away the hours trying out new ideas on canvas and with different media – paint, charcoal, digital images. I still got to do that, of course, but I was creating work without love, without soul. It was designed purely for profit, always fitting in with the color scheme that the client wanted. Ethan's comment about how I was no different to him in many ways kept bouncing around my head. He could be a cruel, opinionated prick when he wanted to be, for sure. But he also had a point. Neither of us were producing work with an emotional connection. He gave companionship and, sometimes, his body to women who wanted an ideal, a perfect man without the strings attached. I provided art that spoke to nobody, not even myself. It kept the clients happy, but it didn't elicit any respect. Why should I care? Why should it matter if the money was sensational? Why had that bastard stepbrother of mine managed to get in my head so easily?
    "They never told me the artist was so damn beautiful."
    I turned to see Martin Williams, one of the assistant managers at the hotel whose reputation for basically being a complete creep preceded him. "Mr Williams, pleasure to meet you. I've heard an awful lot about you."
    "Really?" he said, slurring his words. "Good or bad?"
    All bad, you misogynistic scumbag . "That would be telling."
    He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I was uncomfortable, pissed off. He was drunk and inappropriate – the worst combination where male attention is concerned. "There's a lot of rooms in this hotel, Kara, and do you know what? I can enter any damn one of them. What do you say you and me go and get away from this crowd for a little while?"
    I calmly removed his hand and looked him in the eye. "I think you've had a little too much to drink, Mr Williams."
    "Just one too many, that's all," he grinned.
    "More like ten too many. Why don't you go and have a lie down somewhere?"
    "Only if it's with you."
    That was my cue to leave or at least get away. "I need to go to the ladies room. Excuse me."
    It wasn't long before his voice boomed down the corridor behind me. "I hope you're not trying to get away, Miss Reynolds. I know every nook and cranny of this hotel, you know."
    I turned, my heart pounding in my chest, to see his lumbering frame coming towards me. "Mr Williams, I don't mean to be rude but I really think you need to go and lie down before you do something you regret. I'm here in a professional capacity and I'd like you to be the same."
    He grabbed both my arms and pulled me to him, causing me to gasp. "You little cock tease. Women like you are all the same. Look at you, in your tight dress and your high heels. Why