Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

The door slammed behind him.

I didn’t move. For a few seconds, I just stared at it, almost expecting him to come back. He didn’t.

My eyes dropped to my shoulders. The red marks from his fingers were already visible against my skin. I touched one, a sharp sting shooting through me before I immediately pulled my hand away.

My throat tightened.

Then, without warning, my legs gave out. I hit the floor beside my bed and sat there, staring at nothing.

What the hell had just happened?

My hands started shaking. I tucked them between my knees, trying to make them stop, but that only made me notice how badly they were trembling. I couldn’t get a proper breath. I dragged one in through my nose, but it caught halfway. I tried again, still nothing.

"Just breathe," I whispered.

My voice sounded so small that it scared me.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, but the tears were already coming. They slipped through my fingers and ran down my cheeks. I hated it. I hated that he had made me cry. I hated that I was sitting on my bedroom floor shaking because of him, and worst of all, I didn’t understand why.

Reagan had always been an asshole. He irritated me on purpose, said whatever he wanted, looked at me like he was constantly one second away from telling me I was stupid. But I’d never been afraid of him.

Until now.

I could still feel his hands around my shoulders. I could still see his face, that cold look in his eyes when he’d asked me the same question again.

What car was it?

I swallowed hard.

"It was just a car."

The words came out broken.

"Why did you care so much?"

My phone rang.

I jumped so hard my shoulder hit the side of the bed. I stared at the screen.

Sierra calling.

For a moment, I wanted to answer. I wanted to hear someone familiar, someone who wasn’t acting strange, someone who would tell me I was imagining everything.

But my thumb wouldn’t move.

The ringing stopped.

I exhaled shakily, but then it started again.

I rejected the call.

Almost immediately, a message appeared.

Sierra: Rose, answer your phone. What happened?

I stared at the words until they blurred. I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t even know what had happened. How was I supposed to explain that I was terrified because Reagan had grabbed me over a car?

It sounded ridiculous.

Maybe it was ridiculous.

Maybe I was being dramatic.

But my shoulders still hurt, my hands were still shaking, and I couldn’t stop hearing his voice.

What man?

My stomach dropped.

That was when another thought crept in.

Maybe the car wasn’t nothing.

Maybe Mom really had been scared.

I sat up straighter, my mind going back over everything. The strange man at the estate. The car outside the dress shop. Mom’s face going pale. Her fingers trembling when she called Devon. Then Reagan, and the way he’d reacted when I told him.

I pressed a hand against my mouth.

"What if something’s wrong?"

The question hung in the room, and before I could stop myself, my mind started filling in the blanks.

Maybe someone had a problem with Devon. Maybe he angered on of his company people. Maybe someone had been watching the house. Maybe—

My heart began pounding harder.

"What if someone is trying to kill him?"

I froze.

The thought was enough to make my stomach twist.

"No."

I shook my head.

"No, no..."

I didn’t want to think about it, but my mind wouldn’t stop. Maybe that was why everyone was acting strange. Maybe that’s why Mom kept telling me everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. Maybe that’s why Reagan had been watching me all morning.

Maybe—

A cry tore out of me.

I covered my mouth immediately. It came again, smaller this time, but it hurt coming out. I curled forward, pressing my forehead against my knees as the tears finally broke loose.

"I want to go home."

My voice cracked.

"I just want to go home."

I didn’t care about the wedding anymore. I didn’t care about the house. I didn’t care about Reagan. I wanted my own room, my own bed, my own life. I wanted my mother to tell me that nothing was wrong and actually mean it.

My phone vibrated again.

I looked at it through watery eyes.

Another message from Sierra.

Please answer me.

I couldn’t.

I turned the phone face down. I didn’t want anyone. I just wanted this feeling to stop.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand. My legs nearly gave out again, so I caught the edge of the bed and waited until the room stopped spinning before walking to the door.

I locked it.

Then checked the lock.

I stared at it for a few seconds before checking it again.

I felt stupid, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

I went to the window.

Locked.

I checked the latch twice, then stepped back.

My reflection stared at me from the glass. Red eyes, wet cheeks, a trembling mouth.

I wiped my face angrily.

"Get it together."

I climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket around myself. It wasn’t cold. I just wanted something between me and the rest of the world.

I stared at the door.

I kept expecting to hear footsteps outside. Every small sound made me tense. A door closing somewhere downstairs. Footsteps in the hallway. A man’s voice.

I held my breath each time.

Nothing happened.

Still, I didn’t relax.

I didn’t sleep. I just lay there, staring at the door and wondering what the hell I’d walked into.

For the first time since moving into Devon’s estate, I wasn’t wondering if I belonged there.

I was wondering if I was safe there.

---

Reagan’s POV

I stood alone in the study with my phone against my ear.

"Spill whatever information you have."

Silence.

My jaw tightened.

"And it better be good."

I listened. The longer he talked, the less I moved. My fingers slowly tightened around the phone as I turned toward the window.

"Continue."

Another pause.

My grip tightened again.

So that was what they had been doing.

Interesting.

I walked back toward the desk, listening without interrupting. Every piece of information only made the picture clearer.

I stopped beside the desk.

The anger in my chest had gone strangely quiet. That was usually when it became dangerous.

I listened to the last few words.

Then I smiled.

It wasn’t a happy smile. It was slow, almost amused, the kind that came when the pieces finally fell into place and the person on the other end of the game had no idea what was coming.

"Good."

I picked up my jacket.

"I’ll be there."

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