Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Reagan’s POV

The drive back to the estate was quiet.

I drove alone, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other tapped lightly against my thigh. The streets passed beneath the headlights, but my mind remained on the conversation in that slum. The man’s face kept coming back to me, especially the moment I’d mentioned his informant. That brief flicker in his expression had told me more than his little speech ever could.

The information they’d gathered wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was how easily they’d gotten close enough to gather it. They knew about our movements. They knew about the estate. They knew enough about our security to find the gaps in it, and they’d been confident enough to stand in the middle of a street surrounded by armed men and tell me about it.

That wasn’t something I could ignore.

My eyes stayed on the road as I considered going to Father’s office first. I didn’t even know if he was there, but if he hadn’t gone home yet, that was the first place I’d check. I wanted to see him now, while the words were still fresh in my head. More importantly, I wanted to see his face when I told him what I’d heard.

I almost turned the car around. Almost. Then I decided against it. I’d go home. If he was at the office, I’d find out soon enough, and if he wasn’t, I’d find him there eventually. Either way, I wasn’t leaving without answers.

Because the timing was too convenient.

Someone had nearly assassinated Rose. My men had been kept in the dark about certain things. Now some unknown group had gone out of their way to lure me into a trap just to deliver a message about a new reign.

And somehow, my father was still sitting comfortably at the center of all of it.

There was another problem.

My father.

That old man had been quietly stepping into my gang.

I’d already noticed the way some of my men hesitated tonight. They hadn’t moved until I gave the order, but it wasn’t the hesitation itself that irritated me. It was the reason behind it.

He’d told them not to act without him.

Behind my back.

I let out a short, disbelieving scoff.

So he’d been slowly planting his influence among my men while I was busy assuming they followed my orders because they respected my authority. Apparently, Father had decided my position came with a second set of instructions, and he’d made sure everyone knew about them except me.

A faint, almost amused smile pulled at my lips.

The audacity of the man.

He wanted to control my men without openly challenging me. Clever.

Annoying. But clever.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

He’d apparently knew more about the shit happening around us than he’d bothered to tell me. Then, after keeping me in the dark, he’d left me babysitting his problems as if I were some convenient weapon he could point at whatever needed handling.

Fuck.

My fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

He’d always been good at keeping things from me. I’d grown up watching him do it, learning from him, even admiring how effortlessly he could keep an entire room from knowing what was going on in his head.

But this was different.

Someone had tried to assassinate Rose.

Someone had been watching the estate.

Someone had enough information about us to know we’d take the bait in the slums.

And now I’d been given a message that had made my father the first person I wanted to question.

I smiled faintly.

I’d spent enough time wondering what he wasn’t telling me.

Tonight, I was going to ask.

By the time I reached the estate, the amusement had settled into something colder.

The gates opened, and I drove through without slowing.

The men stationed around the property noticed me immediately.

I noticed them too.

Their bodies stiffened as I stepped out of the car. A few shifted their weight. One man straightened so quickly it almost looked rehearsed, while another avoided my eyes completely. They exchanged brief looks before looking away. Nobody lowered their head, and nobody ran, but the discomfort was obvious enough.

I couldn’t blame them.

One of them had already informed me about the attempt on Rose’s life. They probably expected me to come back and bury every man responsible for the failure.

Instead, I walked straight past them.

Their confused expressions followed me.

I almost smiled.

I’m not done with you all.

I kept walking.

Let me have a word with my father first.

The halls were quieter than usual. I didn’t bother stopping anywhere, heading straight for Father’s study.

When I reached the hallway outside his door, I slowed.

His voice came through the partially closed door.

"No. Don’t move anything yet."

I stopped.

There was a pause.

"I’ll handle it."

I stared at the door for a moment.

Whoever he was speaking to didn’t answer loudly enough for me to hear. I didn’t bother trying to listen harder. The fact that he’d been having a private conversation at this hour was enough to add another question to the list.

I reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

He looked up almost immediately.

"You’re back."

I stopped just inside the room.

I didn’t ask who he’d been speaking to. He didn’t need to know I’d heard anything.

Instead, I looked at him.

His tie was slightly loose.

That alone would’ve been nothing on anyone else, but my father wasn’t anyone else. He could sit through hours of negotiations without a wrinkle in his suit, and he never left a drink untouched unless something had already taken his attention away from it.

There was an untouched glass beside his hand.

Several papers were spread across the desk, but he wasn’t reading them.

He looked like a man who donated his blood his blood to blood banks.

I said nothing about it.

He didn’t ask what happened.

He didn’t ask whether I was hurt.

He didn’t even look surprised to see me.

I stared at him for a moment, then said, "The new reign is coming."

His expression changed.

Not slightly.

Not enough for me to question whether I’d imagined it.

His face paled.

I froze.

For the first time in my life, I saw something on my father’s face that didn’t belong there.

Fear.

Real fear.

But I didn’t understand it yet.

I stayed rooted to the floor, staring at him. He looked away from me for a fraction of a second before turning back.

"Who told you that?"

I said nothing.

His eyes sharpened.

"Who told you that?"

Still nothing.

His voice suddenly rose.

"Who told you that? Where did you get that phrase from?"

I slowly walked toward the desk.

He watched me the entire time.

I stopped in front of him, leaned forward, and placed both palms against the desk.

"What does it mean?"

He went silent.

His eyes moved away from mine.

I stared at him.

"What does it mean?"

Nothing.

My voice rose slightly.

"What the hell does it mean?"

His head turned back toward me, and he gave me a weak glare.

The kind that was supposed to remind me who I was speaking to.

I scoffed directly in his face.

"What does it mean?"

He remained silent.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

I watched him carefully. The man sitting in front of me was still my father, still the same man who had spent years teaching me how to read people before they ever opened their mouths.

But something was different.

He knew that phrase.

Not because he’d heard it once.

Not because it meant nothing to him.

He knew it well enough for the color to leave his face.

Then, in a voice far quieter than I’d expected, he said,

"Stay away from them."

I blinked.

Stay away from them?

I studied him again.

That was when it slowly settled in.

He wasn’t simply refusing to answer me.

He was afraid of whatever the answer was.

Then I laughed a humorless laugh.

It was the kind of laugh that escaped when something was so ridiculous you didn’t know what else to do.

"I should stay away from them?"

I straightened slightly, staring at him.

Now what have you gotten yourself into, old man?

My smile faded.

"You’re scared?"

"Just do as I fucking say!"

His shout hit the room hard.

I didn’t move.

"You think you can take on everything, but you can’t, Reagan. There are forces greater than you, Reagan, so sit your ass down."

Silence.

I stared at him.

For once, I had nothing to say.

Not because he’d frightened me.

Because I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.

My father had never spoken to me like that. And not because he was angry, It was because he was afraid.

I slowly lifted my hands from the desk and stood to my full height.

A faint smile returned to my face.

"Quite frightened, aren’t you?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Rattlesnake."

I watched him carefully.

Normally, that would’ve been enough to set him off. He would’ve slammed his fist against the desk, shouted me down, reminded me exactly who he was.

This time, he only twitched one finger against the desk.

Nothing more.

That tiny movement told me more than his shouting had.

I smiled.

Then I spoke slowly, each word carrying its own weight.

"You’ve outgrown that title, Father."

His eyes lifted to mine.

I straightened my jacket.

"I think it’s time I step onto your throne."

His expression hardened.

I turned toward the door.

My hand had barely touched the handle when I stopped.

I looked back over my shoulder.

"One more thing, FATHER."

"Don’t interfere with my gang again."

I held his gaze.

"And I fear no one."

Then I walked out.

The door closed behind me.

I stood in the hallway for a moment, the faintest smile still resting on my lips.

If my father refused to tell me the truth, fine.

I’d find it myself.

And whatever had frightened the man who taught me never to fear anyone...

I was going to find it.

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