Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

Reagan had been looking at me all morning.

Scratch that. He was staring like first-time bird parents staring at the egg, waiting for it to hatch, forgetting there’s a timeline.

The first few times, I ignored it. But by the fourth, I was getting irritated. I might as well be a hard-boiled egg from the heat radiating from his stares.

I looked up from my phone. "Something on my face?"

Nothing.

He sat across from me on the sofa, scrolling through his phone as though I hadn’t spoken.

I frowned. "Did you hear me?"

His thumb continued moving across the screen.

"Fine. Be weird. Just do it away from my face and stop looking at me."

Still nothing.

I rolled my eyes and looked back at my phone. He’d been acting strange since yesterday. Not nicer, unfortunately.

And every time I caught him looking at me, there was something in his expression I couldn’t quite place.

It wasn’t anger.

At least, I didn’t think it was. But whatever it was, it was annoying.

By early afternoon, Mom came looking for me.

"Rose, get ready. We’re going out."

I looked up from my bed. "Where?"

"I’m getting fitted."

I groaned. "So... wedding stuff?"

"Ugh!"

She laughed. "The wedding is in a few weeks. That’s why everything’s so rushed."

"I never knew weddings were this stressful. What happened to just eating and clapping?"

"That’s what guests see, not the family of the bride and groom."

"Ugh! I’d rather be a guest," I said, rolling on the bed in frustration.

She tossed a garment bag onto my bed. "Put that on."

I opened it and stared at the dress.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now hurry."

The outing wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. Mom was in a good mood, and that made everything easier. She spent most of the afternoon trying on dress after dress, and each looked more beautiful than the last.

And it got me thinking about whether I could wear these for normal occasions. I’d look odd, sure, but I’d look stunning either way.

By the time we left the shop, she looked genuinely happy, while I, on the other hand...

"You liked it, didn’t you?" she asked as we walked toward the car.

"But you didn’t choose that one. In fact, you didn’t choose any."

"They were all beautiful, but none felt like the one, you know?"

My eyes widened at that confession.

You might as well contract Cinderella’s fairy to sew a gown for you at this point.

"And besides, don’t you want your mom to look her best on her big day?"

"Yes, yes."

She laughed. "You’re impossible."

We reached the car, but I stopped before getting in.

A dark sedan was parked farther down the street.

"Mom."

She turned. "What?"

I pointed toward it. "That car. Hasn’t it been there since we got here?"

She looked.

For a second, she said nothing.

Her face went slightly pale before quickly settling.

She looked away. "Probably someone waiting for somebody."

"You’re sure?"

"Yes."

She opened the car door.

"Get in, Rose."

Something about her voice made me pause.

She sounded tense.

Mom climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. Neither of us spoke for a moment before she reached for her phone.

I watched her fingers tremble slightly as she dialed Devon.

"Where are you?" she asked quietly.

I couldn’t hear his response.

Her eyes flicked toward the windshield.

"No, nothing happened."

A pause.

She glanced toward the side mirror.

"We’ll be back home soon."

Then she ended the call.

I stared at her.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing."

The answer came too quickly, which made me raise a brow, but I didn’t question it further.

She gave me a small smile.

I looked through the windshield, and the sedan was still there.

She pulled away from the curb, and I watched the sedan through the window until it disappeared behind us.

It almost felt like... we were being watched?

I quickly shook that thought away. I told myself it was stupid. People parked on streets. People waited in cars. Not everything meant something.

Maybe I was just letting Reagan’s weirdness get to me.

He’d been acting strange since yesterday, and the more I thought about it, the more annoying it became.

Normally, I knew exactly what to expect from him.

But lately, he just kept looking at me, and it wasn’t in the usual way either.

There was something different about it. And I didn’t like it.

I glanced at Mom, then looked out the window again.

My mind wandered back to the morning. The first time I’d caught him staring, he’d looked away. The second time, he’d barely reacted. The third time, he’d looked almost annoyed when I caught him.

And when I’d finally asked him directly, he ignored me completely.

Who does that?

I sighed and rested my head against the seat.

Maybe he was just in a bad mood.

Reagan was always in some kind of mood.

I remembered the way he’d looked at me before walking away earlier.

That expression.

It had almost seemed like he wanted to say something.

But Reagan being straightforward would probably require a miracle.

I rolled my eyes.

"Idiot."

Mom glanced at me from the driver’s seat.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She gave me a suspicious look before returning her attention to the road.

I looked back out the window.

Maybe I was making too much of it.

Reagan wasn’t my problem.

Whatever strange mood he was in had nothing to do with me.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Then why did I keep thinking about it?

I frowned.

I hated when something got stuck in my head.

And Reagan had somehow managed to get stuck in mine without even doing anything particularly interesting.

That was probably the most irritating part.

I turned my attention to the passing streets, determined to forget about him.

For about thirty seconds, it worked.

Then my mind wandered back to him again.

I groaned quietly.

"Get out of my head."

Mom glanced at me.

"Who?"

I looked at her.

"No one."

I looked away before she could ask anything else.

Definitely no one. Just Reagan.

Unfortunately.

A few minutes later, I noticed a man walking along the pavement.

He wasn’t doing anything suspicious. He was just walking. But just as we passed him, his eyes shifted toward the car.

Then toward me.

I froze.

His gaze lingered for a second too long.

Not on Mom. On me.

I turned in my seat to watch him.

He didn’t look back.

He just kept walking.

"Mom."

She glanced at me. "What?"

"Do you know that man?"

She frowned and checked the mirror. "What man?"

"The one we just passed."

"I didn’t see him."

I looked back again.

He was already farther away.

"Never mind."

Mom didn’t say anything.

I faced forward, but that strange feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away.

I glanced at the rearview mirror.

The road behind us was empty.

The car was gone.

I looked at Mom.

She kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel now, her phone sitting beside her.

She looked completely focused on the road.

For the first time since we’d moved into Devon’s house, I wondered if everyone knew something I didn’t.

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