Seduced By My Stepdad (Seduction #1)

Chapter 1

“Wait a second.” My brother laughs from the other end of the line. “You’re telling me your wife—who you were already planning to divorce, mind you—cheated on you with the chef?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, resting my hip against the corner of my office desk and sighing. “Yes.”

“The one who prepared all the food for those expensive parties you had at the house? That chef?”

“Yes,” I repeat. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

It doesn’t bother me that she cheated. I don’t think I’ve cared what Jennifer has gotten up to for the past two years of our marriage. I know I should care, should be bothered that she’s slept with someone else behind my back, but I’m not.

We’ve been together for seven years—married for six of them—and it’s always just been… easy. But as the years passed and my rose-tinted glasses faded with the more time I spent in her presence, I realised the type of woman she was—the type I’d allowed myself to be blinded by.

Cold, heartless, vile, and full of herself.

She was ignorant, distant when it came to being a mother to her daughter, Robyn—who lives in London due to her father having sole custody.

Not that Jennifer ever cared about that, either.

I didn’t officially meet Jennifer’s daughter until she was eighteen, which coincidentally was the day we got married.

It was all about Jennifer and nobody else.

My brother’s deep, guffaw of laughter breaks me from my daze, and I roll my eyes in response. “Remind me again why I bothered to call you about this.”

“Because you’re old, lonely, and have no one else?”

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry, man, but that has to be the funniest shit I’ve heard all week. The fucking chef?” he questions, but it’s rhetorical. “He’s practically a zygote.”

“Nineteen, to be exact.” I exhale heavily, lifting the crystal tumbler in my hand that’s filled with a two-finger measurement of Yamazaki single malt Bourbon, and bring it to my lips, knocking back the entirety of it in one go.

“And Jennifer is, what… seventy?”

I choke on the last of the alcohol as it goes down my throat, only because if my soon to be ex-wife was in ear shot of that, she would’ve practically had a meltdown. “He quit today, too, and I’m more upset about that than her leaving. He was a brilliant cook.”

Hearing those words only makes my brother, Ellis, laugh harder. “Oh no, whatever will you do?”

“Fuck you.” I press the phone to my ear, holding it up with my shoulder as I pour myself another drink. “Like you’ll ever have to face anything like this, dickhead.”

“A woman walking out on me?” he snorts. “Well no, obviously not, because I’m gay.”

I sigh, replacing the lid on the crystal decanter. “No, you fucking moron, because you’re impervious to anything involving feelings.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve been balls deep in some guy’s ass when the memo went out about thoughts, feelings, and emotions.”

“I’m surprised you manage to have your dick in your pants most of the time.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’ll have you know it’s in there right now thank you very much.” I can almost hear the bullshit in his words as he continues, “And… I have relationships.”

I scoff. “Fucking a different man every month isn’t a relationship, Ellis. That’s more like a… situationship.”

I know that vicious little smirk he does is plastered all over his face right now. “It is for me.”

Ellis and I have always been close, and even though there is quite an age difference between us, that never mattered.

Our parents passed a long time ago in a head-on collision caused by a drunk driver behind the wheel of a ten-tonne truck.

I was twenty when it happened, and Ellis had only just turned nine.

That day, I became his legal guardian, and I’ve never looked back.

I was in the middle of my second tour in the military and barely able to care for myself, let alone my younger brother, but we made it work.

When I left the military at twenty-five, I collected Ellis from our aunt’s place and raised him to the best of my abilities. He now resides in Ohio as one of the top coaches in college football, and I couldn’t be prouder.

“Look, old man—”

“I’m forty-nine, dipshit,” I scold him with a playful tone to my voice.

“Whatever. Fuck Jennifer, fuck her bullshit cheating because you didn’t actually want to be with her anymore anyway, and fuck her for thinking she could do that to you.

Thank god you set up a prenuptial agreement before marrying the wicked witch of the east. In fact—” He pauses for a second.

“Fuck anything but her, if you catch my drift. Or are you too old for promiscuity now?”

“I’m not dead, Ellis.”

“You’re practically dodging the coffin as we speak, brother.”

“I’ll bury you before I make it into one if you carry on.”

“What I mean is, you’re set in your ways.”

He’s right.

He’s always right.

I haven’t slept with Jennifer in almost a year, and I can’t even blame that on work.

Because if there’s one thing I always had time for…

it was sex. I just couldn’t bring myself to listen to those fake little moans of hers any longer.

Visually, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my soon-to-be ex-wife, she’s absolutely stunning—even at fifty.

Tall, slender, with a model-like figure that makes men freeze on the spot just to stare at her.

She takes care of her skin, dresses for her age, and barely eats anything to keep her from gaining any weight.

I’m not exactly sure how she survives by running on an empty stomach but she’s done it for years.

Maybe making people miserable is her way of feeding herself.

Everything about her was for show, and I guess I just grew tired of it.

So maybe I’m partly to blame for the chef-fucking incident.

Christ, my hand has most recently become my best friend, and it knows my dick better than I can remember. Shocking, I know. It’s not that I don’t enjoy sex, I just didn’t enjoy it with her.

“Coach?” I hear faintly.

“Shit,” Ellis huffs. “Jack, I’m sorry, brother, I have to go. I’ll call you tonight if I don’t get out of practice too late, alright?”

“Alright.” I reach up to grab my phone from between my ear and shoulder, but I stop when he says. “Hey, asshole?”

“What?”

“I love you.” The words come begrudgingly. “There. Feelings enough for you?”

“I love you too, now fuck off.”

Both of us chuckle as he ends the call, and I toss my cell down onto the top of the stack of papers on my dark wood office desk. Looking around the room, I realise I’m stuck here… alone, until I’m back at work tomorrow morning.

Great, just great.