Step Scandal - Part 2 by Rossi St. James

 
 
 
 
 
ONE
     
    Harper
    It was working. Elijah’s grand, master plan was in full effect. And I hadn’t spoken to Xavier in a week. Not since he took me home the morning after we went to the club. I’d traced my lips a thousand times that week, as if the impression of his mouth on mine had been burned into them.
    The kisses weren’t supposed to be real, yet he slipped me some tongue. He wasn’t supposed to care about me, yet he pulled me away from Hayden McDaniel the way a firefighter might rescue a baby from a burning building. He wasn’t supposed to give two shits about me, but for some reason, he did.
    I slipped the slinky black dress up my hips and tugged it over my breasts, zipping up the back before smoothing out any creases. My hair and makeup team had just left, and my blonde hair was teased high with huge waves that bounced with each step. My cat eye and red lip finished the rest of the look.
    “You look like you just stepped out of a James Bond movie,” Elijah mused. “But I like it.”
    “Thanks.” I stared into my reflection once more. The nervous excitement coursing through my veins had nothing to do with the event I was about to attend and everything to do with seeing Xavier for the first time in a week.
    The doorbell rang and Elijah flitted up and out of my room, returning a minute later and throwing himself onto my bed. “Limo’s here. And so is your date . And I use that term loosely…”
    Smacking my lips together to evenly distribute the red lipstick one last time, I turned to leave, only to be faced with a tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome Xavier standing in my bedroom doorway. It was the first time I’d ever seen him in a tuxedo before, and his black hair was freshly cut and styled.
    “I feel like I should have a fuckin’ corsage or some shit.” He slipped a hand in his pocket.
    “You look good.” At least he didn’t have a giant stick lodged up his ass that day. We might actually have a good time together.
    “Nah,” he said, stepping toward me. He slipped his fingers through a blonde wave that hung over my shoulder. “You look better.”
    We hopped into the back of the limo a few minutes later and headed to Beverly Hills, to some movie premier my publicist, Jenny Johanson, had arranged for us to attend. We needed red carpet photos and all the additional publicity we could get. Jenny wasn’t initially thrilled about what I’d done without consulting her, but she was willing to work with it. Besides, the damage had already been done, and in Hollywood, there was no such thing as bad publicity.
    ***
    “Harper! Harper!” they called my name as we stood on the red carpet, his arm slinked around my hips. We tilted our heads just perfectly to the side and angled our bodies. We were pros at this, especially me. It was like riding a bicycle. Just like old times. My body buzzed with contentment with each flash of a camera bulb that blinded me.
    “Hurry on, hurry on,” my publicist said, ushering us to the next set of photographers.
    “Harper! Is it true you’re dating your stepbrother?” one photographer yelled.
    Xavier and I turned toward each other and laughed, our noses practically eskimo-kissing in the process.
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed with a smile. “We’re not like that at all. We’re just very… close .”
    “But what does that mean? There are pictures of you two kissing!” the photographer yelled back.
    Xavier raised a finger to his temple and scratched as his brows met in the middle. “Those photos were doctored.”
    “But we have eye witnesses!” another cameraman yelled. “People saw you two kissing and grinding in the club!”
    Media outlets, celebrity bloggers, and gossip magazines had been dying to get a quote from us all week. My publicist suggested we remained tight-lipped if we wanted to generate even more buzz, so that’s what we did. Deny, ignore, and innocently provoke. That was our strategy.
    “Wrap it up, wrap it up,”