Free FIERCED 1: A Stepbrother Romance by Stephanie Brother

 
    PROLOGUE
    What a prick.
    I wish I didn't hate him but I can't help it. He deserves every fiery fragment of my loathing. I only feel bad about how much I detest him because it would have made my mom so sad to see me in a rage for no reason.
    “You can't change others, sweetie.” She used to tell me. “You can only change yourself.”
    What about if it isn't me that needs to change? I just need to get away from this cocky arrogant bastard that wastes his life riding through the African desert with his posse. Who the fuck does he think he is raiding other countries on a hog?
    That's what they call it – a raid. A bunch of pricks marauding through Africa like Vikings, taking who and what they want along the way. He's not even in a biker gang, probably too much of a pussy underneath that jerk-off facade. He just meets up with a load of other muscle-bound idiots in leather and ripped tees to hit the grit.
    Fuck I hate him so much my skin sparks wild with fury. My blood boils so livid I turn lobster red and he laughs, like he thinks I'm hot for him . Because of course every woman is wild for a night with the rebel.
    Except me. I'd never let a man like him near me. He's an ugly slob. He struts around our home – the US Embassy for fucks sake – like a guerrilla leader taking hostages.
    That's how I feel when he's around me. Like he's holding me his prisoner and I'd better do what he wants or there will be consequences.
    OK I lied about the ugly part. But people who are too aware of their beauty soon lose all their attractiveness. Another few words of wisdom from my mom.
    Wow I miss her so much my entire heart is a rock in a knot. At least nothing can hurt me ever again now. I'm balled up like one of those terrified insects when you give it a poke. If only she were here, I'd have someone to back me up against this brutal pig. Even when I was wrong, I knew I could always count on Mom's support. Now I've got no one and I guess the time has come to learn to stand up to assholes by myself.
    If this guy thinks he can poke me and I'll roll up in scaredy fright, he's got a big shock coming for him.

Chapter ONE
     
    “Bella,” the dark haired hunk with the almond eyes mutters as he passes me in the hall.
    Everything you've heard about Italian men is true. They're smooth, charming devils who have zero comprehension of the word no even though it's practically the same language. The moment these guys hit puberty, they get wind of the fact that their major life purpose is seduction of the opposite sex. And then they go for it. Seduce, conquer, repeat until they hit the death bed. No exaggeration.
    Daddy took me on a visit to an ol' folks' home outside Rome to visit some ancient general living there. One of those press call things where my dad the Ambassador presses palms and kisses babies. And while he'd turned away to answer some reporter's question, the old guy tried to kiss me then laughed with a filthy quavering croak when I veered away from his decaying breath.
    I pretended nothing happened and maintained my position, one step behind my father's shoulder wearing a demure smile. Until one of the paparazzi made out what the old guy was demanding and pushed me to give him a little kiss on the cheek. I hate those paparazzi that are the controllers of my life.
    Do this, do that as they swarm around like vultures clicking away from this and that angle inventing what they push out to the world as news. On the other side of the lens you soon realize that it's all one big game of pretense.
    I shouldn't be a hater seeing as I'm studying to learn their art. I just don't consider news photography an art. My job outside of school at the Academy is to be the sweet daughter for the ambassador. And it's a freaking huge effort, pretending to be perfect for the world every single day. No sick days, no vacations. It's been my role since Mom died but she was way better at it. I want to be charitable and all but sometimes it makes me feel sick, all