Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Read Online Free PDF

even if springing a surprise marriage on your estranged sister was at least slightly shittier.
    “Sorry,” I grumbled.  “But you’re still going to explain.”
    “Yes,” Ellison said, clicking his pen.  “We are.  I think now’s a good a time as any to get the papers ready, right Mr. Blackwood?”
    Damien nodded.  He didn’t take his eyes off me.
    “What papers?” I asked.  “What the hell is going on?”
    “Here, Cleo,” Damien said, sitting down on one of the luxurious red velvet seats.  He patted the seat next to him.  I sat, but on the couch opposite him.  He rolled his eyes.
    Tough, buddy.  The last thing I need is your hands on me.
    Especially because it might make marriage sound not too bad.
    Ellison pulled a stack of papers from the desk in the corner and joined us on the couches.  They spread out on the table between us with a flutter, hundreds and hundreds of perfectly stapled pages of contract and legalese.  I caught the words “nondisclosure agreement” at the top of one, and immediately the bottom of my stomach fell.  
    I knew enough about the Blackwoods to know that never meant something good.
    Damien smirked at my grimace.  Yes, those few hours ago had definitely been the last time I would ever be happy to see a lawyer again.  
    “What are these?” I asked weakly.
    This was definitely not worth five thousand dollars.
    Hell, I’d pay five thousand dollars to not be here right now.
    “This,” Ellison said with a flourish of the hand, “is your marriage.”
    “I’m not married.”
    “Not yet.”
    “What in the fresh hell are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about you two,” Ellison said, pulling out his pen and marking something on one corner of a page.  “Though I’m sure Mr. Blackwood can explain better.”
    “He sure as shit better.”
    Damien smiled wider.  His eyes twinkled as they studied me, and it made me squirm in my seat.  I hated seeing him all worked up and cheeky like this.  It made me feel like we were teenagers again, sneaking out into his dad’s garage after stealing the keys to the Aston Martin.  Something bad, something secret, something exciting that made me feel alive.
    It felt naughty.  It felt like adventure.
    Adult Cleo hated adventure.
    “This one,” Damien said, plucking up a fat stack of stapled papers, “is Dad’s will.”
    “And it says we have to get married?”
    “Yes.”
    I felt my eyes sink closed and my fists clench again.  I hated it when he made no sense (which was just about all the time).  I hated more that he was getting such a kick out of confusing me like this.  Especially because we both knew the last thing Bernard Blackwood would ever want was his shameful ex-stepdaughter in bed with his only child and heir to his fortune.
    Hell, that was half the reason I had slipped into Damien’s bed that night.
    I took a deep breath and glanced at him again, frowning at the cocky look in his eyes.
    The urge to slap him was getting worse, especially when he grinned at me like that.
    “Explain,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
    He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he smiled.  
    “Well, Sis, dear old Dad had a problem with my … immaturity.”
    “So do I.”
    “See?  You two have so much in common.  Anyway, Dad especially had a problem with my immaturity when it comes to women.”  He nodded at the tabloid on the table.  The same one that had been in the car, the one with the columnist listing out all the different starlets Damien had pranced around with.  “He said it was unprofessional for the president of a business empire to run around with so many women, to refuse to settle down.  That a real businessman knew that appearances are important.”
    “Appearances?”
    He nodded.  “Specifically, the appearance of being a playboy.  It’s not good for public image.  And public image is everything when you’re the face of a business.”
    “Seriously?” I snorted.  “He’s criticizing