Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

Rose!!

My mum yelled as she knocked continuously on the door.

"Rose, open the door," she said, letting the sound of her tears overshadow her knocks.

‎With a sudden thud, I heard my mum fall to the ground. I quickly rushed to open the door and found her crying, different from the way she had been a few hours ago on the phone with her fiancé, Devon.

"Why are you doing this?" Mum asked through tears. "I have your best interest at heart."

"Why did you have to move on so quickly?" I shot back. "It’s as if you never cared about Dad’s death."

"I did it for you, Rose," she said, tears filling her eyes.

"M-Mum..." I stammered. "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I didn’t want you to miss him so much that you’d close yourself off. You need a family environment, Rose."

"I’m sorry, Mum. But you do love him, right?"

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"So you’re remarrying for your own happiness because YOU need a family atmosphere. I was good with just you, Mum," I told her.

"Rose, please," she cried into her arms.

I couldn’t stand seeing my mum in this state, but I still couldn’t get past the fact that she’d moved on from Dad so easily.

"Get up from the floor, Mum," I said, already reaching to lift her up.

‎"Are you okay with it?" she asked, her eyes full of hope.

"It’ll take some time, Mum. I’m not just going to replace Dad."

"I’m not asking you to replace him, dear. Please just... just don’t keep punishing me with your silence," she said, her face red from crying.

Sure, I was angry, but seeing her in this state, knowing I was the cause of her tears, made my heart ache.

"I’m not totally on board with this, but I won’t be selfish. You deserve to love and be loved again," I said, giving a sad smile.

She wrapped her arms around me and cried, repeating thank you while stroking my hair.

‎Still, one thought remained in my mind:

Were they already together before Dad’s death?

After I calmed my mum down, she left, her body no longer tense as she walked away.

I lay on my bed, wondering why Mum behaved like Dad’s death hadn’t affected her at all.

It’s not even been a month, I thought, looking up at the ceiling as a single tear slid down my cheek and onto the bed at the remembrance of Dad.

She moved on too quickly, and I had a bad feeling that this might’ve been going on longer behind Dad’s back.

I hoped I was wrong.

After more thinking and trying to connect the dots, my eyelids became heavy as sleep claimed me.

My alarm rang, waking me up slightly.

‎7:00 a.m.

Still feeling like I needed more time, I put it on snooze. Not too long after, it rang again, and this time I sluggishly climbed out of bed, smoothed down my bedhead, and headed downstairs for breakfast.

As I walked down the stairs, I saw Mum already setting the table. Hearing footsteps, she looked up and gave me a warm smile.

"Good morning, dear," she said. "Look, I prepared your favourites."

The table was filled with different foods and fruits, ranging from solids to soups and sauces, and it screamed, I’m trying to feed my way into getting my daughter’s forgiveness.

I smiled and sat down.

"Thank you."

Breakfast was eaten in complete silence. Only the sound of cutlery hitting the plates could be heard. I could tell she wanted to say something as she’d occasionally glance up at me.

It felt like forever before Mum finally spoke.

"Rose," she called, placing her fork on the table.

"Yes?"

"Your stepfather-to-be will be visiting today with his son."

I paused mid-bite.

"He has a son?!"

My eyes widened at that revelation.

"Yes, he does."

She sighed, avoiding my eyes.

"I’m sorry, dear, for not telling you earlier. You know how rough it’s been for us these past few weeks, and I couldn’t find the right time to tell you—"

"It’s fine," I interrupted calmly.

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, surprised I didn’t react as she had expected.

Going upstairs, one thing kept replaying in my mind.

He has a son?

There’s no abnormality there. I mean, my mum isn’t exactly childless, but still, it was a huge shock for me.

‎If my theory was true and Mum was dating Devon before Dad’s death, then what good could come out of such a man’s son? I’m sure he’s some delinquent who skips school, has tattoos all over him like a second skin, and girls hanging on every arm.

Pretty sure he doesn’t care about first impressions.

I shook the thought away and walked towards my closet.

After trying several outfits and failing to find one I liked, I started to get frustrated. I don’t think they’re putting this much effort into their clothing like I am. Why don’t I just slip on some joggers and a plain tee and call it a day?

I hissed in frustration and finally settled on a red flowy dress that stopped at my thighs.

I untied my hair from its messy bun, letting it fall onto my shoulders and back.

After styling my hair and applying some facial oils and a lip tint, I looked at my reflection one last time. From my red hair to my red dress, I decided I looked perfect.

The thought of me looking like a red apple crossed my mind, and I laughed.

Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang.

They’re here.

My stomach tightened instantly.

Maybe it was nervousness, or maybe it was some other emotion.

I stood up from my bed, set my phone down, and took one last look in the mirror before leaving my room.

By the time I reached the living room, Mum had already opened the door.

A tall man stood beside her with a warm smile on his face.

"Rose," Mum called. "Come meet Devon."

I walked over, my heart jittery.

"It’s nice to finally meet you," Devon said.

Before Mum could say anything else, he chuckled.

"I’m happy you’ve accepted me into your home. Your mother here almost blew out my eardrums on the phone telling me you’re finally ready to accept us."

‎As he said that, he held my mum’s hand, and they both looked happy.

Something about the way he behaved made me smile.

But I quickly reminded myself.

Too soon.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought him up to be.

"Oh!" Mum suddenly exclaimed excitedly. "Reagan is in the kitchen trying to cook up something. Why don’t you help and maybe make your special noodle recipe?"

My heart seemed to drop into my stomach.

Reagan.

So that was his name.

"Why don’t you go keep him company while Devon and I visit his parents?" she continued.

I frowned.

"You’re just meeting his parents now?"

"We’ve both been busy," she replied with an awkward laugh.

A few minutes later, they grabbed their coats and headed outside.

The front door closed behind them.

And just like that, I was alone with someone I had never met before.

Taking a deep breath, I headed towards the kitchen.

Stepping into the kitchen, I froze.

He was leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. What he was doing wasn’t attention-grabbing, but somehow he still managed to be.

At the sound of my footsteps, he looked up.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

Green eyes.

‎That was the first thing I noticed.

The second was the small silver piercing in his ear.

He looked nothing like the spoiled brat I had imagined.

‎His gaze lingered on me for a moment before one corner of his mouth lifted.

"So you’re Rose."

His voice was calm. Confident.

I crossed my arms, something about the way he carried himself making me feel defensive.

‎"And you’re...?"

He slipped his phone into his pocket.

"Reagan."

"Right," I said. "The son."

"The daughter," he replied.

‎There was something annoyingly amused in his expression.

I turned away first, opening the fridge.

"What do you want to eat?"

"Whatever you’re making."

‎"That’s not helpful."

A low chuckle escaped him.

"It wasn’t supposed to be."

I rolled my eyes.

Yep.

Definitely annoying.

‎

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