Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Reagan’s POV

The estate was quiet when we returned.

I followed my father into the study and closed the door behind us. Neither of us spoke. The drive back had already been silent enough, and I had no interest in filling the room with pointless conversation.

He walked toward his desk while I remained near the window.

A few minutes later, one of his men entered.

"Sir."

Devon looked up. "What did you find?"

The man placed a thin folder on the desk.

"These came from the security team."

Father opened it. I didn’t move until he pulled out the first photograph.

A dark sedan.

Parked outside one of his businesses.

The next photograph showed the same vehicle from another angle. Then another.

Different location.

Same car.

My eyes narrowed.

"Where was this taken?"

"Two nights ago," the man answered. "Outside the warehouse on Waylane."

Father looked through the photographs.

"And the others?"

"One was taken near the docks. Another outside the restaurant."

I stepped closer. The vehicle wasn’t familiar at first, but the plate caught my eye, making me pause.

"Give me that."

He handed me the photograph.

I stared at it. The plate wasn’t unusual enough for anyone else to notice. But I knew it.

The spacing. The numbering. The way the characters were arranged.

It wasn’t random.

My jaw tightened.

"What’s wrong?" Father asked.

I turned the photograph slightly.

"The plate."

He frowned. "What about it?"

"Look at the numbering."

He looked down, studying it. I pointed at the plate.

"That format. The spacing. Even the way the numbers are arranged."

My eyes hardened.

"This kind of work could only be Atlas."

The room went still.

His expression changed slightly.

"Atlas?"

I looked at him.

"Who else would be bold enough to use something this obvious?"

"That’s exactly my point," Devon said calmly. "You’re assuming it’s him."

My jaw clenched.

"I know what I’m looking at."

"I didn’t say you were wrong."

"You doubted me."

Father didn’t answer, which only irritated me more.

"I told you this could only be Atlas."

His gaze remained on me.

"Reagan."

"What?"

"You said could."

I scoffed.

"Because I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt."

He raised an eyebrow.

I looked back at the photograph.

Atlas didn’t make mistakes like this.

Not usually.

If this was him, the plate wasn’t carelessness.

It was a message.

A reminder.

A way of saying he could get close without needing to hide completely.

My fingers tightened around the photograph.

"He wants us to notice."

Devon leaned back in his chair.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

I looked at him sharply.

"He’s been waiting for an opening."

"Or someone wants us to believe that."

I stared at him.

"You really think Atlas isn’t capable of this?"

"I think Atlas is capable of a lot."

"Then why are you doubting me?"

He sighed.

"You’re angry."

"Obviously."

"That’s exactly what they want."

I looked away. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

The man who had brought the photographs shifted slightly near the door.

"You can go," Father said.

The man nodded and left. As the door clicked shut, silence returned.

I looked down at the photographs again.

The same car.

The same plate.

My mind went back to the street.

To the estate and also to Rose.

My hand dropped to my waistband as my fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of my gun.

The thought of Atlas anywhere near this house was enough to make my blood boil.

And if he had been anywhere near Rose...

For some unnamed reason, that infuriated me even further, making my jaw clench.

His eyes dropped to my hand. He looked at the gun, then at me.

"Careful," he said calmly. "Hold it that tight and you might shoot your leg."

I glanced down.

My fingers slowly loosened.

I looked back at him and scoffed.

"Funny."

He leaned back.

"Atlas might be bold."

I looked at him.

"But he’s not the only one."

I frowned.

Devon tapped one of the photographs.

"An ocean doesn’t have one shark."

I stared at him.

He was right. I knew he was.

I’d been so focused on Atlas that I’d almost forgotten there were other people who could benefit from the chaos.

Other rivals. Other enemies. People who didn’t need to be Atlas to attempt to hurt us.

But an ocean also has its food chain.

And Atlas wasn’t at the bottom of it.

My gaze returned to the photographs.

"So someone else could be using his style."

"Exactly."

"Or Atlas is deliberately making us think someone else is involved."

"Also possible."

I exhaled slowly. I hated uncertainty. Especially when it involved people I couldn’t see.

But it came with its thrills.

Because I’d need to find them.

He gathered the photographs into a neat stack.

"Either way, someone has been watching us."

"And they’re getting closer."

He nodded.

"Then they’re getting closer."

I looked at him.

"They’re testing us."

"They are."

"They want to see how we’ll react to a threat on the family," I voiced.

Father’s eyes lifted.

"Yes."

My expression hardened.

"And once they know—"

"They’ll know where to push," he said, completing my statement.

I was silent for a moment.

Then I said quietly, "Then they should’ve picked someone else."

He studied me for a long moment before standing up and walking toward the window.

I remained by the desk.

"Has anyone approached the house?"

"My men will report soon."

"Good."

The room grew quiet once more before I broke the silence.

"They’re being careful."

I picked up one of the photographs.

"They’re not trying to get caught. Such coordination, such manipulation of our cameras, and knowing where to avoid."

I ran my hands through my hair before continuing.

"One of our men or more may have been compromised."

He tilted his head to the side slightly before answering.

"And you’re just figuring this out now?"

Fuck. I hated when he did this.

"I’m working on it," I gritted out.

"Speed up your search. Unless you want things to become bloody."

He turned to face me before a smile that didn’t reach his eyes broke through his expression.

"You might prefer that."

It didn’t take a second before I knew the implication of what he meant.

The corners of my lips tilted upward so slightly it couldn’t count as a change in expression.

"Learned from the best, Rattle Snake."

At the mention of that name, his expression contorted into barely controlled rage before just as quickly settling down.

"I’ve warned you to never speak of that name again."

"You hate the name but still bear its mark on your back."

"Has Aria seen—"

"Watch your tongue, Reagan!" he roared, his controlled mask finally slipping.

I stared at him, unmoving.

"So... a no?"

I could barely hold in the amusement making its way to the surface.

"You’re losing your edge, Father. It takes nothing to read you," I said slowly, looking up to meet his eyes.

The vein throbbed at his temple as his fists balled at his sides.

Yes.

Get angry.

Lose your cool.

He took in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You aren’t going to get a reaction out of me, Reagan."

"Tch."

I turned around, heading toward the door, when his voice brought me to a halt.

"I hope... Nothing. Just do your job."

"And here I thought we were about to have a father-and-son bonding session," I said sarcastically before walking out.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!