FIERCED 3: Finale of the Stepbrother Raider Romance Series by Stephanie Brother
Authors: Stephanie Brother
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Chapter ONE
After Rocco is forcefully escorted from the consulate by the goons in black, my father steps away from blocking the door. No need to prevent me dashing after my step brother. He's gone from my life, perhaps for good.
And I'm my father's prison inmate once more. How had I never seen it until now? I lived in a delusion of being precious first daughter when in reality I’m daddy’s puppet doll. While I'm of use as his campaign prop, the perfect child built by the perfect parent, I’m permitted the illusion of independence. If I can't be made use of then I'll be dumped in some rehab and my father will still come out looking like the caring, now suffering in anguish, parent.
I head immediately for the door. I have to get as far away from him as possible inside this barricaded fortress. Ironic that an embassy, meant to be a haven, is my personal asylum.
“We leave tomorrow at seven,” my father announces as he crosses to the security of his desk, the size of most normal people's bathrooms.
“I'm exhausted,” I say wanly, without much hope. “I think I may have picked something up in the camp.”
Daddy's terrified of illness but fat chance he's going to let me off with an excuse infection. I'd have to be terminal to get out of this gig. Even then he'd wheel me out for the press to gain the sympathy vote.
“I'll send the doctors up to your room right now,” Daddy says, not even looking up at me from his papers.
“I -” Oh, what's the point of fighting it? Any negation only makes him more intent on getting his domination kick. I'll see the doctor, who will say I'm fine and there'll be no choice but to go on this political press jaunt.
I walk calmly up the wide staircase, passing the security beef at every level and calmly enter my bedroom. I've been gone only a few days but it seems like years have passed and I'm no longer that bratty girl that lived in this childish princess room. I see this for what it is. I've seen too much of what other people call living.
And I know what it means to be a woman after the incredible night under the stars in the desert with Rocco buried deep inside me. He seared into the marrow of my soul that night. Over and over pressing all the way into me as though he wanted to climb all the way inside me, merge our physical and emotional beings and never let go.
“Never let me go.” Did I imagine his hoarse whisper in my hair?
“Never.” My lips had formed the word and repeated it now. I would never know another man as amazing in every way as Rocco.
In a short time he'd become everything to me and my life would be nothing without him. He'd opened me to real life in every way. In the solitude of my girlish bedroom, I hang my head, ashamed at the selfish demanding brat I'd once been. The white-canopied bed is piled high with packages. Monica had been shopping for our press conference.
I sweep them all off the white frilled coverlet onto the floor and throw myself down on my back. Hot tears of rage threatening. Will I ever see Rocco again?
Not one, but two doctors come into the room shortly after. The first takes my temperature and two phials of blood then steps away for the older geezer wearing a suit with a matching vest despite the heat. And yes, he actually has one of those weird watches on a chain in the pocket that's about as big as a mantelpiece clock.
“I'm Dr Palimpost and I'm just going to ask you a few questions,” the old guy says.
So just to make sure, my father has sent up the shrink as he threatened. He really is determined to ensure I go to Venice and play my part.
“Do you know where you are?” Of course I freaking know where I am. Why doesn't he just get to what he really wants to know. Not that I'll ever tell. They'd have to strap me down in a straitjacket and fill me with that truth serum to make me. I quickly wrestle that thought from my mind. My father wouldn't think twice.
“Can you describe for me your relationship with your stepbrother
After Rocco is forcefully escorted from the consulate by the goons in black, my father steps away from blocking the door. No need to prevent me dashing after my step brother. He's gone from my life, perhaps for good.
And I'm my father's prison inmate once more. How had I never seen it until now? I lived in a delusion of being precious first daughter when in reality I’m daddy’s puppet doll. While I'm of use as his campaign prop, the perfect child built by the perfect parent, I’m permitted the illusion of independence. If I can't be made use of then I'll be dumped in some rehab and my father will still come out looking like the caring, now suffering in anguish, parent.
I head immediately for the door. I have to get as far away from him as possible inside this barricaded fortress. Ironic that an embassy, meant to be a haven, is my personal asylum.
“We leave tomorrow at seven,” my father announces as he crosses to the security of his desk, the size of most normal people's bathrooms.
“I'm exhausted,” I say wanly, without much hope. “I think I may have picked something up in the camp.”
Daddy's terrified of illness but fat chance he's going to let me off with an excuse infection. I'd have to be terminal to get out of this gig. Even then he'd wheel me out for the press to gain the sympathy vote.
“I'll send the doctors up to your room right now,” Daddy says, not even looking up at me from his papers.
“I -” Oh, what's the point of fighting it? Any negation only makes him more intent on getting his domination kick. I'll see the doctor, who will say I'm fine and there'll be no choice but to go on this political press jaunt.
I walk calmly up the wide staircase, passing the security beef at every level and calmly enter my bedroom. I've been gone only a few days but it seems like years have passed and I'm no longer that bratty girl that lived in this childish princess room. I see this for what it is. I've seen too much of what other people call living.
And I know what it means to be a woman after the incredible night under the stars in the desert with Rocco buried deep inside me. He seared into the marrow of my soul that night. Over and over pressing all the way into me as though he wanted to climb all the way inside me, merge our physical and emotional beings and never let go.
“Never let me go.” Did I imagine his hoarse whisper in my hair?
“Never.” My lips had formed the word and repeated it now. I would never know another man as amazing in every way as Rocco.
In a short time he'd become everything to me and my life would be nothing without him. He'd opened me to real life in every way. In the solitude of my girlish bedroom, I hang my head, ashamed at the selfish demanding brat I'd once been. The white-canopied bed is piled high with packages. Monica had been shopping for our press conference.
I sweep them all off the white frilled coverlet onto the floor and throw myself down on my back. Hot tears of rage threatening. Will I ever see Rocco again?
Not one, but two doctors come into the room shortly after. The first takes my temperature and two phials of blood then steps away for the older geezer wearing a suit with a matching vest despite the heat. And yes, he actually has one of those weird watches on a chain in the pocket that's about as big as a mantelpiece clock.
“I'm Dr Palimpost and I'm just going to ask you a few questions,” the old guy says.
So just to make sure, my father has sent up the shrink as he threatened. He really is determined to ensure I go to Venice and play my part.
“Do you know where you are?” Of course I freaking know where I am. Why doesn't he just get to what he really wants to know. Not that I'll ever tell. They'd have to strap me down in a straitjacket and fill me with that truth serum to make me. I quickly wrestle that thought from my mind. My father wouldn't think twice.
“Can you describe for me your relationship with your stepbrother
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