Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

‎Rose’s POV

"Hell no, bro," I pointed, hands trembling.

"Wow, already calling me bro. Well, that’s a plus," he said, his voice smooth.

"You know I don’t mean it like that."

"I’ll still take it," he said, stepping closer before stopping and reaching for a book beside me.

"What the—?" I asked, puzzled.

"Why so surprised? Don’t I look like I read?" he asked, flipping through the pages.

"No, I mean, I thought you were..." I sighed.

"Fuck, never mind."

"Why do you do this?" I asked, exhausted.

"Do what?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Invade my damn space," I answered, already feeling myself age.

He looked at me like I was some specimen he was studying, dissecting me with his eyes.

He smiled slowly and turned to walk away.

"You’re gonna drive me crazy before our parents tie the knot," I said, also walking away.

"Hmm. We’ll see," he said, his voice deep with meaning.

I can’t believe I spent the whole morning in my room. Definitely not avoiding someone.

Ugh. I’m hungry.

‎I heard a door close a while ago. I’m guessing it’s his.

Ever since last night, I’d dreaded going downstairs.

I’ll just grab something quickly and come back up to avoid running into him.

Sounds like a plan.

I clapped, satisfied.

After debating whether to warm up some leftovers or make noodles, I decided on the next best thing.

"We’ve got your order, ma’am. Anything else?"

"No, that’ll be all."

"Please confirm your address again."

"Poker Street, House 101."

‎"Expect your delivery within twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I said as my mouth watered.

A cup of noodles was still too much of a hassle to make.

I’m not being lazy, I thought to myself. I’m helping people’s businesses by buying.

While waiting for my food to arrive, I’d occasionally glance up to make sure Reagan wasn’t coming downstairs.

Twenty minutes suddenly felt like forever. I checked the time on my phone twice before realizing only a few minutes had passed. Maybe I really was hungrier than I thought.

When my food finally arrived—

‎Sweet, sweet seafood boil.

Steam escaped the moment I opened the container, carrying the rich smell of garlic butter and spices. The bright red crab legs practically glistened, while the prawns, corn, potatoes, and sausages were drenched in sauce. Whoever invented seafood boil deserved a national award.

I continued sniffing while the delivery driver looked at me weirdly.

Leaving my food to rinse my hands and grab a soda, I came back to see Reagan holding a crab leg in one hand and two prawn shells resting on a tissue beside him.

My brain refused to process what I was seeing. There was absolutely no way this man had looked at a table that clearly wasn’t his... and decided to help himself.

"REAGAN! Why are you eating my food?!" I yelled.

He looked at me like he couldn’t understand what I was saying.

"All this... for you?" he asked, shocked, pointing at the food spread out across the table.

"This is basically a buffet," he said, chuckling as he nearly choked on crab meat.

"Maybe if you hadn’t started eating before asking, there would’ve been enough for both of us."

"So... I am invited?"

"Don’t push your luck." I snapped

"Lunch?"

"Dinner?"

"Both?"

He looked genuinely amazed.

"Wait, so this is all for you?"

"You’ve said that so many times I’m starting to believe you’re actually deaf," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Do you always eat like you’re feeding an army?" he asked.

"It’s called treating yourself."

"This isn’t treating yourself. This is treating the whole neighborhood."

"Reagan!" I yelled slightly embarrassed

"But thanks to you, this won’t be enough. Unless you have something else to offer?"

He paused mid-bite, staring at me like I’d said something I wasn’t supposed to.

"You’re dripping sauce all over the table," I said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Still nothing.

He just kept staring, which left me uneasy.

His phone rang, and that finally snapped him out of it.

‎Thank God, I thought.

I watched his face change, becoming darker with each passing second as the person on the other end spoke.

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but judging by Reagan’s expression, he wasn’t a fan of it.

He looked up at me once before leaving the dining room to continue his call elsewhere.

"Some girl dumped him?"

"Yeah, that’s a breakup face,"I shrugged and reached for another crab leg. Whatever drama Reagan had going on wasn’t my business. If anything, it explained why he’d stolen my food without asking. Emotional eating, maybe.

---

Reagan’s POV

"What?"

‎"There’s been a delay in the shipment, sir. We sent four of our men to check it out since the men stationed at the docks couldn’t be reached," my subordinate informed me.

"And?"

"And neither team has contacted us back, sir."

"We suspect Atlas’s men were behind it."

‎"And why do you suspect him? This might be the doing of some new gang looking for bad attention," I said, my voice tight with anger.

"This is too coordinated for it to be the Jackals’ doing. Atlas asked for safe passage of his goods through Chiva Port, and you denied him."

"I have no other reason but to think it’s his doing," he finished.

"How damaged are the goods?" I asked, hoping they were salvageable.

"Not damaged, sir. Gone."

"What? " I asked, my chest heaving.

"Are you all useless?" I snapped. "I give you a simple task in my absence, and an entire shipment vanishes without a trace?"

That shipment wasn’t just merchandise.

Weeks of planning.

Millions invested.

Deals already made.

If word got out that this gang couldn’t even protect its own shipments, rivals would smell blood in the water. Failure spread faster than success in our world."

"You better find out who and what was behind it."

"Y-yes, sir. But like I told you, our cameras captured nothing, and every attempt we’ve made to reach our men has been met with radio silence. Only Atlas could pull off such a coordinated attack."

"Send word to Atlas. I want to ask him one-on-one," My fists clenching as i spoke.

"Get men to that port and see what you can find. Rescue anyone with a pulse and squeeze every bit of information out of them," I gritted out.

"And if they don’t have a pulse, sir?" he asked cautiously.

"Dump them into the sea."

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