Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Rose’s POV

The moment the door closed behind Sierra, I finally let myself breathe.

I looked at her for a second before walking farther into the room.

"You know," I said, "you could’ve just walked upstairs normally."

Sierra glanced at me. "And let you go back downstairs?"

"I wasn’t going to do anything."

"Exactly."

I frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I know you."

She dropped onto the edge of my bed and looked around the room.

I followed her gaze.

The room looked completely different from how it had looked a few hours ago. Not because anything had actually changed, but because I had. The curtains were still closed, the blankets were still a mess, and the clothes I’d thrown around before disappearing into my three-day depression were still exactly where I’d left them.

There was still a glass of water on the bedside table. The bathroom door was slightly open, and my towel was hanging over the edge of the chair instead of where it belonged.

It was the same room.

It just didn’t feel the same anymore.

For the first time in three days, I didn’t feel like crawling back into bed and disappearing underneath the blankets.

I sat beside Sierra.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything.

Then she looked at me.

"So..."

I already knew that tone.

"What?"

"You’re really okay?"

I sighed.

"I think so."

"Think?"

"I don’t know, Sierra. I’m not suddenly cured of everything."

She nodded slowly.

"I know."

"I mean, I’m better than I was this morning."

"That’s something."

"Yeah."

She nudged my shoulder.

"And you ate."

I groaned.

"Don’t start."

"You needed to eat."

"I know."

"You were starving yourself."

"I wasn’t trying to."

"You still did it."

I rolled my eyes.

"You’re going to keep bringing this up, aren’t you?"

"Probably."

"Wonderful."

She smiled, and despite myself, I smiled too.

It was strange how quickly Sierra could make a room feel normal again. She had always been like that. She could walk into the middle of a disaster and somehow make it feel like something we could laugh about later.

I leaned back against the headboard.

Sierra stretched her legs out in front of her.

"Your mother’s wedding is next week."

My smile faded slightly.

"Oh."

"Exactly."

I looked at her.

"What?"

"You forgot."

"I didn’t forget."

"You definitely forgot."

"I’ve had other things on my mind."

She gave me a look.

"Clearly."

I sighed.

"I know it’s next week."

"Seven days."

"You’re making it sound terrifying."

"It is terrifying."

I laughed softly.

"For you maybe."

"No. For you. You’re going to be running around the entire house trying to find things you’ve forgotten."

"I won’t."

"You will."

"I won’t."

"You haven’t even picked what you’re wearing."

I looked at her.

"I’ll pick something."

"When?"

"Before the wedding."

She stared at me.

"Very specific."

I smiled.

"Thank you."

She shook her head.

"You’re impossible."

"I’ve been told."

"By me."

"Frequently."

She laughed quietly.

Then her expression softened.

"Are you excited?"

I hesitated.

"I want to be."

Sierra tilted her head.

"What does that mean?"

I looked toward the window.

"I want to be happy for Mom."

"You are."

"I am."

I paused, rubbing my thumb over the side of my hand.

"But..."

She waited.

"I don’t know."

"What?"

I looked back at her.

"Something about it feels strange."

Her eyebrows pulled together.

"The wedding?"

I nodded.

"I don’t know if it’s the wedding itself. It’s just... everything."

"Everything?"

"Yeah."

I looked down for a moment.

"Mom. Devon. Reagan. Everyone."

Sierra stayed quiet.

"They’ve all been acting weird lately."

She shifted slightly.

"How?"

"I don’t know how to explain it."

I thought about it.

"It’s just a feeling."

"What kind of feeling?"

"Like something is wrong."

Sierra didn’t answer.

I continued before she could.

"Like I’m missing something. Like everyone knows something I don’t."

Her eyes moved away from mine.

I noticed.

"Sierra."

"What?"

"You did that thing."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you look somewhere else when you don’t want to answer."

She looked back at me.

"I didn’t do anything."

"You did."

"Rose."

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

"The whole family has been strange."

"Rose..."

"Even Reagan."

That made her expression change slightly.

"Especially Reagan."

I sighed.

"I don’t know. Maybe I’m just overthinking everything because of what happened."

Sierra nodded slowly.

"Probably."

The answer came a little too quickly.

I looked at her.

She looked back at me.

Then she said, "You’re overthinking it."

There was something about the way she said it.

Not the words.

The tone.

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me.

I narrowed my eyes.

"You don’t sound like you believe that."

Her eyebrows lifted.

"I do."

"You hesitated."

"I didn’t."

"You did."

"I literally didn’t."

"You did."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Rose, you’re stressed."

"That doesn’t mean I’m imagining everything."

"I didn’t say you were."

"But you think I am."

"I think you’ve had a rough few days."

She paused.

"And I think you’re looking for answers because you don’t have them."

I stared at her.

That was probably the most reasonable thing she’d said.

Which somehow made me more suspicious.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe everything I’d been feeling was just a result of everything happening at once.

The kisses.

The argument.

The fear.

The strange things happening around the family.

I’d spent three days alone with my thoughts. Maybe I’d thought myself into a hole and was now seeing things that weren’t there.

But still...

The way Sierra had said it bothered me.

She looked away.

I studied her face.

Was she hiding something?

No.

I shook the thought away almost immediately.

Sierra wouldn’t.

At least, I didn’t think she would.

She suddenly clapped her hands together.

"Anyway."

I blinked.

"Anyway?"

"Yes. We’re not spending the rest of this evening making ourselves miserable."

I smiled.

"Good plan."

"Now, what are you wearing to the wedding?"

I groaned.

"I don’t know."

"Exactly."

She shifted closer.

"We need to figure it out."

"We?"

"Yes, we."

"I can choose my own clothes."

"Can you?"

I stared at her.

"Yes."

"You wore that blue dress to your cousin’s birthday."

"What was wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

"Then why did you say it like that?"

"Because you paired it with those shoes."

I frowned.

"They were nice."

"They were ugly."

"They were not ugly."

"They looked like something my grandmother would wear to church."

I gasped.

"You’ve insulted my shoes and brought my grandmother into this?"

Sierra laughed.

"See? This is why I’m here."

I shook my head, but I was smiling.

We spent a few minutes talking about the wedding, mostly about little things that didn’t matter nearly as much as the actual ceremony.

What I might wear.

What she was planning to wear.

Whether my mother had everything ready.

Whether there would be too many people.

Whether I’d cry.

"I don’t cry at weddings," I said.

Sierra gave me a look.

"You cry at commercials."

"They’re emotional."

"You cried because a dog found its owner."

"That was different."

"You cried for fifteen minutes."

"It was a very emotional reunion."

She laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

"I am not crying at the wedding."

"You will."

"I won’t."

"You absolutely will."

I pointed at her.

"If I cry, you are not allowed to mention it."

"Deal."

"And don’t you dare take pictures."

She grinned.

"No promises."

"Sierra."

"Fine. Fine."

I laughed despite myself.

For a little while, the wedding actually felt normal.

Like what it was supposed to be.

A happy occasion.

My mother getting married.

People celebrating.

Everyone dressed up.

Music.

Food.

Family.

I could picture it easily enough.

Mom would probably be nervous even though she’d insist she wasn’t. Devon would act calm and collected, like nothing in the world could possibly shake him. Everyone would be dressed up, and there would probably be too many people wandering around the house.

Maybe Sierra was right.

Maybe I was making everything more complicated than it needed to be.

But eventually, that feeling returned.

That little knot in my stomach.

Seven days.

Only seven days.

I didn’t know why the thought made me uneasy.

I wanted to believe Sierra.

I wanted to believe I was overthinking it.

But something about the wedding felt different.

Like it was more important than everyone was letting me believe.

I looked down at my hands.

"Sierra?"

"Hm?"

"Do you really think I’m overthinking it?"

She didn’t answer immediately.

There it was again.

That pause.

Then she smiled.

"Yes."

I studied her.

"You’re sure?"

"Yes."

She said it more firmly this time.

Almost too firmly.

I nodded.

"Okay."

I didn’t tell her I still wasn’t convinced.

Before either of us could say anything else, her phone started ringing.

She glanced at the screen.

"Mom."

She answered.

"Hello?"

Her expression changed almost immediately.

"What?"

She sat up straighter.

"Now?"

I watched her listen.

"Okay."

A pause.

"I’ll come."

She hung up.

I looked at her.

"What happened?"

"She needs me."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

She stood and picked up her bag.

"She just needs help with something."

I nodded.

Sierra adjusted the strap over her shoulder and looked at me.

"Don’t disappear again."

I smiled.

"I won’t."

"I’m serious."

"I know."

She pointed at me.

"If I call you and you don’t answer, I’m coming back here."

"Okay."

"Don’t make me."

"I won’t."

She looked at me for another second before smiling.

"Good."

I stood as she reached the door.

"Thanks for coming."

She turned around.

"You scared the hell out of me."

"I know."

She walked back toward me and pulled me into a hug.

I hugged her back.

"I’m sorry."

"I know."

She pulled away.

"Eat."

I laughed.

"I will."

"And sleep."

"I will."

"And answer your phone."

"I said I will."

"Good."

She opened the door.

Then she looked back at me.

"Seven days."

I smiled faintly.

"Seven days."

She nodded.

"I’ll see you before then."

"Definitely."

She left.

The door closed.

And just like that, I was alone again.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the door.

The room was quiet.

But it didn’t feel like before.

Before, the silence had felt like something pressing down on me. Now it simply felt like silence.

I walked toward the mirror and looked at myself.

I looked better.

Still tired.

Still a little sad.

But better.

My eyes drifted toward the closed curtains, then toward the door.

Seven days.

My mother’s wedding was seven days away.

I wanted to believe everything would be fine.

I wanted to believe Sierra was right.

That I was stressed.

That I was overthinking.

That there wasn’t some invisible piece of the puzzle sitting right in front of me.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling.

Something was wrong.

And somehow, I couldn’t stop feeling like I was the only person who hadn’t been told what it was.

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