His Riveting Stepbrother

“Welcome again, Mr. Raymond.” My mother welcomed the guest. The same burly man was in my living room again. He filled up the velvet armchair with his terse behind. The seat on which only my father sat. How could she let this man defy my father? Mother was perched at the edge of her chair, wiggling her buttocks in the corner like a dog scratched on its neck. Dad was never around when this big and intimidating man visited. The first time I saw Don Raymond, I understood why people feared him. He stood at the far end of the grand hall, dressed in a dark suit so perfectly tailored, it looked like a second skin. Everything about him was polished—his soot hair slicked back without a strand out of place, his sharp jaw set in stone. His presence filled the room without effort. When he turned to me, I felt it. His gaze on me was cold, unreadable. I caught my mother’s eye when the man made me turn around for his inspection. Then, without another word, he nodded to her and made his way into the fancy car he came in. “There you are, Cassie darling.” Mother’s voice found me in my hiding place above the stairs, where I watched. My breath hitched. “Come out and say hi to your future husband. Mr. Raymond has finally made up his mind about you. Isn’t this exciting?” Only for you, mother, I wanted to say, but I bit my lip hard and sucked in the words that tasted like blood. “All the other mothers fling their daughters at him, but this man knows the true value because he has finally come to see that you are the most beautiful young lady in the city.” You mean, agreeable and nonthreatening. This man wanted arm candy, a trophy wife, someone for the mere pleasure and status of it. I was the perfect fit for a man like him because I had no ambition. It meant one less problem for the plutocrat. I could sit at home and attend to his special needs in contentment. If I pleased my husband well, then he could increase my weekly allowance or change my wardrobe. He wanted a doll. I could tell when he asked me to show him my palms. From the time I was born, I had never held a broom, or a dustpan or even a duster. So the inside of my hands were as soft as the skin of a newly born kitten. My father was a TV personality and business person and my mum a bubbly socialite. It allowed me to live a life of privilege until I turned twenty-two. Then everything went down the drain. My father made some bad investments and now, his wife has taken matters into her own hands to marry me off to a scary billionaire. Does she even care for my well-being or was it all about keeping her fancy jewelry and Birkin bags? “The wedding will take place in a week’s time,” the billionaire announced. “A week?” Mother echoed. “That is not enough time to prepare.” “It is when you can pay people to speed up the process for you. "Tell me what you want, and I will find the best people in the country to get it done.” His voice bounced off the walls and vibrated my eardrums. A week. My life was being snatched from my fingers like a sharp object in the prying fingers of a kid. And I had no choice, no say in the matter. “Where is dad?” I asked. My mum’s eyes fluttered in my direction, obviously annoyed by the question. Mr. Raymond also seemed to stop and look around the room as if he was only now noticing that the man of the house was not there with us. “My husband is a very busy man,” the mother quipped. He will be home shortly, but I do not expect you to wait for him. You are quite an active man yourself.” “I am,” the billionaire said, as if he could not tell that my mother was hiding something. It irritated me the most. Was he so bent on getting what he wanted without following the due procedures? My dad was very much alive and should have been in the room with us. “As I was saying, let the lady choose whatever she wants at her wedding, and it will be done. A six-foot cake, ice sculpture, chocolate fountain, anything. I will see to it to give her-” “I’d rather have a small wedding.” Mother yelped like a small animal and rushed to place her hand on my shoulders, pushing me in front of her. It was a subtle way to shut me up. Not in front of the guests, I could almost hear her say. The billionaire raised an eyebrow over his deep blue eyes, but the tall, blond man that stood behind him did not move an inch throughout the entire time he was there. “Honey, a small wedding is not what we need right now,” the mother scolded. “Do you think I worked this hard to get us where we are only for you to selfishly deprive me of the victory I need?” The billionaire had brought out his phone and was now scowling at the screen. He was distracted, so my mother continued to press her palms into my clavicles. “We will have the biggest, grandest wedding to shame all those naysayers who thought our days in the limelight were over.” Her fingers tensed when I shivered. “Don’t you want this, Cassie darling? You will be saving your father a lot of shame.”