Stepbrother's Lust: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

Reagan’s POV

This man sure knew what he was doing. Every time it seemed like I’d gotten closer to finding something, it turned out to be receipts or documents that were worthless to me.

I’d been searching around the house for what felt like an hour. You’d think a man’s study would be where he’d keep something important, but all I could find were bill payments.

I pulled open another drawer.

Empty.

The next one contained nothing but neatly arranged fountain pens, each lined up with almost obsessive precision.

Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, packed with leather-bound volumes that looked expensive enough to hide priceless secrets.

Instead...

Tax records.

Insurance files.

Property deeds.

Who organized legal documents by colour?

Either this man was painfully meticulous...

Or someone had already cleaned the place before I got here.

I massaged my temples as I muttered,

"I was beginning to doubt if we were in the wrong man’s house."

"I hate to admit it, but that would be impossible. My old man might get on my nerves, but he doesn’t make mistakes."

"Plus... she confirmed it herself, so it’s got to be true."

I spoke to myself as I walked down the corridor, my palm gliding along the wall.

Click.

That sound.

The corridor seemed to grow quieter.

I looked over at my hand. It seemed to be resting on what looked like a button that had been pushed in.

Finally, I’m getting somewhere, I cheered mentally, the corner of my lips lifting into a slight smile.

I hadn’t even figured out what it did, where it led, or how to open it when Rose appeared, rubbing her eyes, obviously having just woken up.

"Hmm... Reagan? What are you doing?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Her eyes slowly opened wider. She looked up at me, her mouth parting as if she wanted to say something, but she froze when her gaze landed on the pressed button.

For a split second, genuine fear flashed across her face before she buried it beneath anger.

"What are you doing here? How did you find this place?" she demanded, already marching toward me.

"Just taking a morning walk. Something the matter?"

My eyes never left hers.

"People normally take walks outside, Reagan," she spat.

"You look awfully panicked over some... what is this?"

"It’s personal," she replied, eyeing me as she rhythmically pressed the button a few times until it popped back out.

Her fingers moved instinctively across the wall.

One tap.

Pause.

Two more.

The hidden switch slid back into place with a soft mechanical click.

Too smooth.

She hadn’t guessed.

She’d done it from memory.

"You know how this thing works?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed my hand and tried to lead me away.

For some reason...

I let her.

Had anyone else grabbed me like that, I’d have shaken them off without a second thought.

She was walking faster than necessary.

Her grip tightened every few seconds before loosening again, as though she’d forgotten she was holding my hand.

She was nervous.

Not scared of me...

Scared of whatever I’d almost discovered.

"What were you doing over there?" she asked, still holding my hand as we walked.

"Like I said... walking."

"Well, don’t walk near that place again."

She released my hand and turned to face me, her expression serious, though panic was still etched across her face.

"I see no reason why I should listen to you."

"You... just don’t go there."

She dragged a hand down her face in frustration.

"Your actions and warnings are actually making me curious."

I stepped closer.

"And now I definitely want to know what that is."

"Curiosity kills the cat," she muttered, avoiding my gaze.

"And secrecy feeds it," I replied.

She visibly regretted saying anything at all.

Strange.

"So... you do have a softer side to you after all."

"Y-you..."

She stammered, her cheeks turning rosy.

"I’m hungry. Let’s go have breakfast."

She speed-walked away.

My expression turned cold as I watched her retreating figure.

She better not be a part of it.

For her own good.

---

I watched her intently, my gaze fixed on her as she made awkward, clumsy movements around the kitchen.

The dining room was unusually quiet.

Only the clink of cutlery against plates broke the silence.

Rose kept stealing glances at me whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

Every time our eyes met, she’d immediately find something fascinating on her plate.

Subtle.

Unfortunately for her...

Not subtle enough.

"Will you stop staring at me and focus on your food?"

"I’m doing exactly that."

"If you are, then why can I feel your stare sizzling my skin? Trying to melt me?"

I gave no reply.

"Acting like fucking Batman, all mysterious and shit," she grumbled.

"You even glare like him."

She narrowed her eyes dramatically.

"Stand over there."

She pointed toward the corner.

I blinked.

"What?"

"The lighting is better."

She waved impatiently.

"If you’re going to brood, at least do it properly."

I stared at her.

She stared back.

"..."

She burst into laughter first.

"You actually considered it!"

"I was considering throwing you out."

"Liar."

She grinned.

"You were considering the pose."

I raised a brow.

"What? Did I say something wrong, Batman?"

She widened her eyes unnaturally and batted her lashes.

I looked down at my plate, pretending to eat as I stifled a laugh.

"I am Batman," she growled, imitating his deep voice.

I nearly choked on my food as I looked over to see her head resting on the table while she repeatedly hit it, laughing hysterically.

"Grow up."

"There it is again!"

She pointed at me, her body shaking with laughter.

"Do you fake your voice to make it deeper?"

She cleared her throat dramatically.

"Casting call for Reagan! Role?"

She paused theatrically.

"Batman."

I should’ve been irritated.

Instead...

I was fighting not to smile.

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"Oh please, you wish."

She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

"If you’ve taken a liking to my voice, just say so."

She paused.

Her face cycled through so many expressions it looked like someone was spamming emojis.

"You must be joking."

"I’m not."

I leaned back.

"And I’m not faking it either."

"You like it?"

"That’s absolutely untrue."

She folded her arms.

"You’re definitely faking."

"Hmm."

I hummed before answering.

"Want to test its authenticity?"

"How? I mean... why should I?"

I beckoned her closer with my finger.

"Give me your hand."

She hesitated before placing it in mine.

I gently placed her palm against my throat.

"Rose."

I spoke softly while holding her hand there.

The moment my voice vibrated beneath her palm, she yanked her hand back as though she’d touched fire.

Her ears had turned red.

Cute.

She stared at the hand that had just been on my neck.

"Fake?"

"I..."

She looked everywhere except at me.

"I need to go shower."

She speed-walked away.

Liar.

She wasn’t leaving to shower.

She was escaping me.

"Wash off that blush too," I called after her.

She walked even faster.

Good.

At least now I knew she wasn’t nearly as composed as she pretended to be.

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