Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

Once again, i couldn’t sleep. At this point, I was beginning to think Reagan had somehow become a paying tenant in my head and ruining my nights.

I sighed and threw the blanket off before sitting up.

"...This is getting ridiculous."

The room was quiet, the digital clock glowing faintly on my bedside table.

12:37 a.m.

Maybe a glass of water would help or maybe I’d just end up staring into the refrigerator instead of the ceiling. Either sounded more productive than lying in bed overthinking.

I slipped on my slippers and quietly left my room.

The House was completely silent.

Devon and Mom had gone to bed hours ago, and the staff had long since disappeared into their quarters. Only the dim wall lights remained on, casting long shadows across the polished hallway.

I made my way downstairs, suppressing a yawn.

I reached the kitchen, poured myself a glass, and had barely taken my first sip when—

Crash

The sound echoed through the house.

"That sounded like glass breaking"

My eyes slowly shifted toward the hallway leading to the east wing.

Reagan’s study.

I stared for another few seconds before forcing myself to look away.

"...Not my problem."

I took another sip.

Started walking back toward the stairs and made it exactly four steps before stopping.

"No."

I shook my head.

"It’s not my damn business."

Another step.

" I mean Probably."

I stopped again.

"Ugh."

Why was I even thinking about this?

He was a grown man, an infuriating one and a damn rude one.

A man who had spent the last few days pretending I didn’t exist while still bossing me.

Exactly.

So keep walking.

I turned toward the stairs.

Then another thought crept in.

What if he’d cut himself?

I groaned loudly enough that I almost hoped someone would hear me and make the decision for me.

"This is exactly why I shouldn’t care."

I started climbing the stairs.

Stopped.

Turned around.

"...You’re an idiot, Rose."

Against every argument my brain made...

I walked toward his study instead.

The closer I got, the quieter everything became.

I reached the door and stood there for several seconds.

Maybe I’d imagined it.

Maybe a bird had knocked over one of the flower pots by the windows.

Maybe—

"...Reagan?"

Silence.

I knocked.

No answer.

I waited.

Still nothing.

I hesitated before pushing the door open.

The first thing I noticed wasn’t him.

It was the floor.

Broken glass.

Whiskey.

Blood.

My breath caught.

Then I looked up.

He stood in front of the windows with his back to me, one hand resting against the windowsill while the other was wrapped in a bloodstained handkerchief.

He hadn’t even noticed I’d opened the door.

For a brief moment...

He didn’t look like Reagan.

He looked, Different...

The thought irritated me.

Why was I trying to understand him again?

I cleared my throat.

"...Reagan?"

Nothing.

I stepped inside.

"Is everything alri—"

"Get out."

The words were so cold they almost made me flinch.

I blinked.

"...Excuse me?"

"I said get out."

He never even looked at me.

For a second...

I just stood there.

Did he seriously...

I felt heat rush into my face.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

I laughed once.

Disbelief.

Pure disbelief.

"You think I’ve forgotten everything?"

Still nothing.

"The kiss."

Silence.

"The weeks you ignored me."

Nothing.

"The way you slammed your fists onto that table in the club and scared me half to death."

His shoulders stiffened.

Good.

Maybe he was actually listening.

"And after all that..."

My voice betrayed me.

"...I still came in here."

I looked at the blood on his hand.

"I heard something break."

Nothing.

"I saw blood."

Still nothing.

"I thought something happened to you."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

I actually thought something had happened to him.

I hated that.

I hated admitting it even to myself.

"I came because I cared."

My laugh sounded bitter.

"And this..."

I gestured toward him.

"...this is how you treat me?"

He remained silent.

Something inside me snapped.

"You ungrateful piece of shit."

He finally spoke.

"Get..."

Then he turned.

"...OUT!"

The word exploded across the room.

I’d never heard him shout like that.

Not even in the club.

The sound echoed through the study before everything fell silent again.

I should’ve left.

Every sensible part of me screamed to leave.

Instead...

I walked toward him.

One step.

Then another.

I didn’t know why.

Maybe because I was angry.

Maybe because...

Despite everything...

I didn’t think he actually wanted to be alone.

"What..."

His voice sounded different now.

Lower.

"...are you doing?"

I didn’t answer.

I just kept walking until only a few feet separated us.

Then...

He looked at me.

Really looked.

Whatever he’d been about to say...

He never said it.

His eyes settled on my face.

I suddenly realized my vision was blurry.

Tears.

Great.

Just what I needed.

I hadn’t even noticed I’d been crying.

I quickly wiped one away.

Too late.

He’d already seen.

For a second...

Neither of us moved.

Then every bit of frustration I’d been carrying since the club came crashing back.

Before I could think better of it—

**Smack.**

The slap echoed through the room.

His head turned slightly from the impact.

I stared at him, breathing so hard my chest hurt.

"You..."

My voice trembled.

"...son of a bitch."

He stayed completely still.

"You don’t deserve..."

I swallowed.

"...one ounce of care."

The words hung between us.

Slowly...

He turned back toward me.

A thin line of blood rested at the corner of his mouth where my ring had caught his skin.

Then...

He smiled.

Not fully.

Just enough.

I stared at him.

"...What the fuck is so funny?"

He wiped the blood away with his thumb before looking back at me.

"Mean swing."

I blinked.

What?

The corner of his mouth lifted again.

"Don’t get used to it."

Every ounce of sadness vanished.

Only rage remained.

"You motherfu—"

I raised my hand again before I could stop myself.

I didn’t even make it halfway before his fingers closed around my wrist.

"Let go of me."

I tried to pull free, but he was faster. One sharp tug sent me stumbling forward, and my chest collided with his.

The impact knocked the breath from me and for or a second I forgot why I was angry.

I looked up at him, ready to tell him exactly what I thought of him, but the words never came.

His expression had changed.

The anger was still there, but something else had taken its place. Something that made my stomach twist because I knew that look.

My heart gave one hard, traitorous beat.

No... Is he?

His hand slid into my hair.

I should’ve pushed him away, I should’ve remembered every reason I’d been furious with him thirty seconds ago but Instead, I froze.

His fingers tightened gently at the back of my head, drawing me closer. I barely had time to catch my breath before his mouth found mine.

My eyes widened.

And just like that, every thought in my head disappeared and his lips came in contact with mine.

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