Page 1 of Claimed By my Stepbrother
Chapter one
Step Up
Sirena
Sultrynotesfromapiano steep the balmy night air outside the club, and I smile when I hear my mother’s voice join in the melody as I make my way past the bouncer. He waves me in with a smile, and the music comes to a crescendo as I walk through the heavy drapes that separate the lobby area from the smoky lounge.
Most nights, I find myself down here at Arrivederci. Mom’s been the headlining singer at the little off-strip lounge for nearly five years. What started as a necessary after-school arrangement has now become a comforting escape.
I walk up to the bar and slide onto one of the tall stools, relieved that the lounge isn’t crowded tonight. A couple of old men I recognize as regulars nod in my direction before turning back to their drinks, and I swivel my seat quickly, relishing the centrifugal force trying to throw me to the floor.
Laughing and holding onto the edge of the seat, I watch the room twirl by as I spin. After several moments, afraid I’m going to be sick, I allow my revolutions to slow until I’m stationary, facing the stage. Mom sings softly and strokes the piano, smiling coyly at the man accompanying her. She turns, flirting with the audience, loving the attention—she’s really in her element.
I’m startled by an unfamiliar voice beside me as the lights transition and the song ends. “Too bad you stopped. It looked like a wild ride,” he drawls quietly, too close to my ear for comfort. “I love a girl who knows how to have fun.” I look up, leaning back in my stool as the stranger sidles closer to me.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" His question, accompanied by a salacious lip lick, immediately puts me on edge. He doesn't take the hint of my disinterest. Instead, his eyes rake over my body, cataloging every detail, and a shiver wracks me. Suddenly, I understand how it feels to be hunted.
"Come on, baby. It's not every day a pretty little snack like you comes along. Give me a name to go with that pretty face,ragazza."
I refuse to look away from him or provide him with any answers, but my refusal seems to spark some challenge within him, making him grow bolder.
His hand comes to rest on the back of the stool, close enough that I feel the unpleasant heat from his skin. "Leave the girl alone, Stacks. She's too young for you."
I release a relieved sigh as Dean comes out of the store room and moves to his usual spot behind the bar. He winks at me, sliding a bottle of water across the rustic wood that seems so out of place, yet perfect, among the gleaming glass and shimmering lights.
"No such thing, boy-o," the guy called Stacks drawls, finally sliding a glance at my rescuer. Dean has been tending bar at Arrivederci since it opened in the seventies, but he doesn't back down from anyone copping an attitude.
"Get lost, Morello." Now, that's a name I recognize, even if I couldn't match it to the face. Nerves overtake me, but Dean just stares, unyielding. His command comes out louder than intended as the song comes to an end, drawing the attention of several patrons.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going. But, you better remember who you're talking to, Dean. It'd be a shame if anything were to happen to you. Or that sweet little piece warming your bed every night. Real tragic."
I stay on my stool, my eyes focused on the plastic bottle in front of me. "What a fucking creep. You best steer clear of that one, little lady." I nod, planning to take his advice.
"Thanks for that, Dean. How much longer has she got?" I ask, pointing a thumb over my shoulder toward Mom.
"Crowd isn't too lively tonight, so she's maybe got half an hour left in her. She's been getting some special attention the last few weeks. Nights he's here, though, she gives it a little somethin' extra."
I roll my eyes. "Ugh. Don't remind me." I take a sip of water, enjoying the cool trail down my throat. I didn't need Dean to remind me of the extra attention Mom was receiving.
Apparently Rowan Valenti represents everything my mom's always wanted. According to her, Rowan came to the lounge for a meeting two weeks ago and was immediately taken with the sultry lounge singer.
He managed to gain her attention, and before she left for the night, he had secured a first date for the following night. He's returned nearly every night since to hear her sing, and Mom can talk of literally nothing else. She's completely besotted.
I roll my eyes at the memories—every night she waxes poetic about him—when an excited screech reaches my ears right before arms wrap around me from behind. "Oh my god, my baby!" A loud, smacking kiss lands on my cheek, and I resist the urge to wipe the bright red lipstick, now imprinted there, onto my shoulder.
Chuckling, I take the stack of napkins that Dean surreptitiously slides over to me and attempt to wipe it off without smearing it all over my face.
"Great set, Mom," I say, though it comes out garbled with the force of my scrubbing. "I haven't heard you singQuando, Quando, Quandoin years. What brought it out of retirement?" I'm not sure I want to hear the answer.
"Let's talk at home. It's pretty quiet around here, anyway, so I'm gonna call it a night. Lemme just go grab my stuff." I jump off the stool, sending it spinning.
"Bye, Dean. Thanks again for coming to my rescue." I wave at him and go wait for mom at the back exit.
Slipping her bag over her shoulder, she walks down the narrow hallway and we step out into the fresh evening air and head down the street.
I walk past a sleek black Town Car idling on the curb toward the bus stop, wondering what rich twit can't be bothered to drive himself around town like a normal person, when I notice I'm now walking alone.
Turning, I see mom standing beside the car watching me. Groaning inwardly, knowing I'm really not going to like what's coming next because my Spidey senses are tingling, I trudge back toward the car, the excitement on mom's face makes me bite my tongue against the sarcastic comments wanting to come out.
