Reunited Steps (Billionaire Taboo Steamy Romance)

Copyright © 2014 Fiona Layne

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, dialogue, and everything else are products of the author's imagination.  Any resemblance to people or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental. 

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"Oh my god, Sin, did you hear?"  My best friend Janelle is running over to me, still powdering her bare breasts as she practically yells with excitement.

"Hear what?" I ask.  I don't even bother to look up from painting my toenails.  Janelle is easily excitable.

"Outside, in the crowd tonight.  Jason Graft!"

My hand stops mid stroke.  "No way," I say.  "I call bullshit on that."

Jason Graft comes from one of the richest families in the city, probably one of the richest in the country.  His father's investment firm is always on the news and although he spends most of his time on Wall Street with his father these days, he was born and raised here in Chicago.  People claim to see him from time to time around the city, but he's the last person that would set foot in a place like this.  This isn't his neighborhood and it's certainly not his type of establishment.

I should know.  He also happens to be my step brother.  But no fucking way anyone in here knows that.  It's a secret I've kept for many years, and plan on keeping for many more.

"It's true, Rain just got off stage.  She saw him herself.  He's sitting in the back with two big guys, probably bodyguards.  He's just watching the stage and not talking to anyone or taking any private dances."

Rain was pretty reliable, she was sort of the matriarch of the club having been here the longest.  If she says she saw Jason Graft, it might actually be true. 

What the hell is Jason doing here.

As far as I know, my step brother has no idea I'm a stripper.  Hell, no one in my family has any idea, and I want to keep it that way.  I haven't seen him in a couple of years though, and he obviously won't recognize my name.  If he's sitting at the back, then he likely won't recognize me.  Especially not with my hair bleached blond like it is now.  He only knows me as a mousy brunette with green eyes and thick glasses.  Certainly not the blond haired, contact wearing, fake blue eyed bimbo I'm trying to portray.

I shrug my shoulders and continue with my nails as my mind races.  I have to keep up appearances, though.  I'm not one to get excited about celebrity, so I can't act weird now.  "Well, even so, what's the big deal?  He's a billionaire and he's acting like 90% of the other jerk offs in this place.  Sitting in the back, nursing a drink and not buying any dances."

"Well, I'm still going to pass by him and give him my patented wiggle walk.  It gets them every time."

Janelle was one of the top earners in this place, usually getting even the cheapest scumbag to drop twenty bucks on at least one dance with her.  She always attributed it to her "wiggle walk".  She'd walk by a guy, wiggling both her ass and her double Ds after loosening the string on her top.  It would pop off just as she passed the guy and usually land on his table, or sometimes even on him directly, depending on how well her aim was that night.  She'd act all embarrassed and cover herself up as she asked for her top back.  It didn't matter that the guy probably saw more of her than he had of his own wife not five minutes ago while she swung around the pole on stage.  There was just something about feeling like you got to see something extra, something you weren't supposed to see, that seemed to drive men wild. 

After that she could usually get at least one dance out of them.  Sometimes she'd even get them into the champagne room where the big bucks were made.

I laugh and wish her good luck, she'll need it.  My brother is a prude and always has been.  There was a time that I even wondered if he was gay, but it turned out he really just took after his asshole father.  After my mom married him, he acted like I was a huge burden and wanted nothing to do with me.  His son Jason was the only thing that mattered and he made sure that I was painfully aware of that at all times.  The fact that my mother never stuck up for me stung, but our relationship had never been that good to begin with.  After my father died when I was little, she just always looked at me as a huge burden on her life. 

So I ran away at 16 and never looked back.  Now, three years later I was making ends meet my stripping and I was honestly pretty happy with my life.  Jason and his father could go fuck themselves. 

After I left, he used that as an excuse to take my mother and move to New York.  They still have their house here, but I have no idea how often they come back.  I haven't seen any of them in years.

I don't remember Jason being a bad guy, to be honest.  His only fault was idolizing his father too much, but he was pretty nice to me for the brief couple of years I knew him.  Whenever I thought back to that time, he was the only part of the family that I actually missed.  Well, him and my dog Buster.  Man, do I miss that dog.  But there was no way I could take him with me when I left, with no plan other than to try to survive on the streets. 

I quickly finish my toes and wave them dry.  I'm due on stage in a couple of minutes and don't want them to smear.  My heart is beating a bit fast, but I'm struggling to keep my nerves under control.  It's fine.  I'll just scan the crowd quickly to figure out where he is, and then I'll keep my face away from that area for the rest of my dance. 

I really can't afford to not go up.  I need this job, and refusing to dance when it's my turn without a damn good reason is grounds for dismissal.  And I'm not about to use my billionaire brother as my reason. 

As I sit around waiting for my turn to dance, the rumor about the billionaire in our bar continues to spread and soon it's all that the girls are talking about.  I roll my eyes, wondering if any of them
really
think anything will come of it.  Some of these girls are dreamers.

"Up next, the shamefully wicked Sin!"  My heart pounds within my chest upon hearing the DJ call my name.  I'm always a bit nervous about going on stage, no matter how many times I do it,  but this is worse than normal.  What if Jason recognizes me?  Am I really willing to get completely naked in front of him? 

I give my head a little shake and walk out the door towards the stage.  It's not like he'll know it's me, and I can just pretend he isn't there.  He's just another anonymous perv.

Once I get up on stage and start moving, I begin to relax.  I'm always most nervous in that initial moment before I actually get up, but I love to dance and once I'm in my element I can usually forget all my worries.  Although this time I have more on my mind than just the fact that I'm taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of random pervs.  This time I'm taking them off in front of my brother.

I'm already halfway through my set, with most of my clothes off, that I finally work up the nerve to search him out.  The room is much quieter than normal, especially for a Friday night.  All eyes seem to either be staring directly at, or deliberately trying to avoid the back corner.   As I lift myself up on the brass pole and do a spin, I chance a quick glance over to that area.

Sitting very casually between two large men is the unmistakable form of Jason Graft.  His short dark hair and strong jaw line haven't changed since I last saw him.  Even so, his picture is everywhere on the news so I he's been impossible to forget regardless.  He's wearing a dark blue blazer and matching tie that is loosed at the top.  His white dress shirt underneath has a couple of buttons undone at the top.  He likely came here straight from some meeting and just wanted to relax.  Maybe he thought this place was out of the way enough to not be recognized.  I doubt it's possible for a guy like Jason to just unwind anywhere in this city without everyone staring at him, though. 

In that regard, I feel bad for him.  Despite what I do for a living, I value my own privacy.  Maybe because of it.  I definitely don't like any unwanted attention when I'm not here at the club.  Whenever a guy looks at me for more than a split second at the grocery store or the gas station, I immediately think I've been recognized or that he's a stalker following me.   

Although my glance at him is fairly quick, I do notice that his eyes are focused on me, but I try not to worry about it as I'm the girl on stage, so he's supposed to be watching me.  It doesn't
mean
anything.  I keep my face intentionally away from that corner for the rest of my dance and when I'm done, I leave quickly and return to the private room at the back to get dressed again.

Everyone is still talking about Jason so I don't stick around and chat, opting instead to head back into the bar and make my rounds.  As much as I'd like to hide out until he leaves, I'm also worried about inadvertently giving something away if I stick around while everyone gushes about him. 

With any luck I'll find someone that will want to take me into the private champagne room and have me dance with them for a while.  That'll keep me from running into Jason but also give me some much needed money.  I wasn't even really supposed to be here tonight, I was actually filling in for a friend who couldn't make it.  I could use the money though.  I don't plan on dancing forever, and actually just enrolled in veterinarian school a couple of months ago.  The tuition is killer, though, and I don't even know if I'm going to be able to pay for it.  I've been struggling to do both that and pay my rent, and if it comes down to it I'll have to choose reliable shelter over my dream career. 

I go back out and walked around a few times, intentionally avoiding the corner where Jason sits by a wide margin.  Luckily the club is big enough that I can do that.  When I circle around and end up back at the bar, I find Janelle sitting with a drink and looking defeated.

"What's up girlfriend?" I say. 

"I think he's gay," she replies.

"Who?"

"Jason Graft."

I laugh out loud as memories of those same thoughts going through my head are invoked again.  "What makes you say that?"  I know now that it isn't true.  He had a few girlfriends as we grew up, and I found plenty of porn on his computer whenever I was snooping around.  None of it was gay, although some of it was a bit kinky.  Plus all of the gossip rags always run stories about him being quite a ladies' man now, although they can never pin him down as having a long term girlfriend.

"I gave him the wiggle walk and nothing.  Actually, worse than nothing, his bouncer guys asked me to leave and tossed my top over the rail.  It was pretty rude, actually."

I nod but don't say anything.  Yep.  Sounds like Jason has become even more like his dad over the years.

"Oh shit," she says.  I look at her questioningly.  "Here comes that bouncer now!  Maybe he's coming to apologize."

I turn around just in time to see a brick wall in a suit walk right up to us. I step back a bit to give him room, he probably wants to get a drink for Jason.

"Are you Sin?" he asks, looking directly at me with hard penetrating eyes.  I nod slightly.  "Mr. Graft would like to talk to you." 

"To me?"  I ask, swallowing hard.  Shit.  He must have recognized me after all.  I can feel my face redden in embarrassment at the thought of Jason watching me naked a few minutes ago while actually knowing it was me the whole time.

"Yes.  Please follow me."  He doesn't wait for me to respond, he just turns and starts walking back towards his boss.  I look at Janelle whose eyes are saucers. 

"What are you waiting for, girl?  GO."  She literally pushes me in the direction of the bodyguard, unaware that there is much more going on here than just a potential indecent proposal.

I slowly follow in the big man's wake, people are actually moving out of the his way as he passes even when he isn't that close to them.  He leads me back towards the corner of the room where his rich boss sits. 

I take a deep breath as I get closer, wondering how he was able to recognize me.  When I look at myself in the mirror these days, even I don't always recognize myself.  At least not compared to how I looked a couple of years ago.

Jason stands up as I approach, his steel grey eyes fixed onto me and wearing a smile filled with perfect teeth.  His face is as ruggedly handsome as I remember, not at all the typical look you'd expect from a financier.  I slowly walk towards him, absently smoothing out my short black skirt as I do.  His eyes are studying me oddly.

"Good evening," he says, extending his hand.  I reach forward and take it, confused. 

"Hello," I say demurely.  Why am I acting like a virgin schoolgirl in front of my brother?