The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 14: Chapter 14: Party Flames

The dress was a weapon I hadn’t agreed to wield.

Midnight silk poured over my hips like liquid sin, clinging to every curve I’d spent twenty three years learning to hide. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the strap for the tenth time, when the knock came.

Eight o’clock.

I opened the door, and the hallway tilted.

Lucian filled the frame in a black tuxedo that looked painted onto his body. His eyes, dark, hungry, relentless, dragged from my heels to my mouth, then back down again. My skin caught fire.

"You’re wearing it," he said, his voice rough.

"You told me to."

"I tell you a lot of things." He stepped inside, close enough that I could smell bergamot and smoke. His thumb traced my shoulder. "You look beautiful, Eliora. You look like you’re trying to kill me."

"Is it working?"

"Spectacularly." He leaned in. "I’m in love with you. I need you to know that before we walk into that room."

My heart stopped. "Lucian..."

"I’m not asking you to say it back." His hand slid to my lower back, pressing me closer. "I’m just done pretending I don’t."

⸻

The drive to the Hendricks estate was a blur of city lights and tension.

"My father sent me to represent him," Lucian said, his hand resting on my thigh. "James is ’too tired,’ which means too drunk to show his face. So I’m the dutiful son, shaking hands and discussing quarterly projections."

"You hate those people."

"I hate all of them," he murmured at a red light. "But I get to stand next to you for three hours without explaining why. That’s worth the performance."

⸻

The gala was a fever dream.

Crystal chandeliers screamed light across marble floors. Champagne glasses chimed like bells. I drank two flutes too fast and watched Lucian across the room.

He moved through a cluster of men in gray suits like a shark through minnows, smiling, shaking hands, laughing at jokes that didn’t reach his eyes. A woman in red touched his arm. He stepped back smoothly, but his gaze flickered to me.

I finished my champagne. Then I caught his eye and tilted my head toward the hallway.

His expression shifted.

Something feral.

⸻

By midnight, the party had loosened considerably. Champagne had done its work, the band had shifted into something slower, and the dance floor was crowded.

"Dance with me," Lucian said, appearing at my elbow and pulling me toward the floor.

"This seems unwise."

"Everyone’s dancing with everyone tonight. Nobody will think twice."

He was right, mostly, but the way his hand settled at my waist made the closeness feel like something people might notice.

"You’re staring," I said.

"I’m allowed to stare at my date."

"I’m not your date."

"Tonight you are," he said, his voice low. "Tonight, for a few hours, you’re just a woman I can’t stop looking at, and I’m just a man who’s tired of pretending otherwise."

Something reckless unfurled inside me.

"That’s dangerous to say in a room full of your father’s business associates."

"Then let’s not say it in the room."

He led me off the floor and down a hallway lined with heavy doors.

"The restroom," I breathed. "We should..."

He pushed open a door marked Private, a dark lounge attached to a restroom, with a velvet settee and a sideboard. He locked the door behind us.

"Music," he said. "I want to be free with you. Just for a minute."

I found my phone and played something slow and heavy.

Lucian pulled me against him. His hands gripped my hips.

We moved.

There was no choreography, no grace, just need. He held me close, his mouth finding mine, hot and desperate.

He lifted me onto the sideboard. Crystal rattled.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against my jaw.

"No."

"Tell me."

I dragged my nails down his back. "Don’t you dare."

⸻

A sound outside.

Footsteps. Then voices.

"Have you seen Lucian?" James’s voice came through the wood.

"He was headed toward the east wing, Mr. Smith," someone answered. "Saw him go that way with a woman in blue."

The doorknob turned.

Lucian moved like lightning. He pulled me into the adjacent restroom stall and shut the door just as the lounge opened. He pressed me against the marble wall and covered my mouth.

Darkness.

The stall was narrow. Through the thin partition, I could hear James’s dress shoes on the tile.

"Lucian?" James called.

Lucian’s forehead dropped to mine. I could feel the heat of him, the tension in his muscles, the slow movement of his thumb against my lower lip.

His lips found my ear.

"Don’t move."

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

James stepped further into the lounge.

"Lucian, if you’re in here..."

Silence stretched.

Then, "Damn it, Lucian."

Footsteps retreated. The lounge door clicked shut.

⸻

We stayed frozen for several seconds. Lucian slowly removed his hand from my mouth and replaced it with his lips.

He kissed me, deep and devastating.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was barely a whisper.

"He’s gone. But we need to move. Now."

He cracked the stall door. The lounge was empty.

We moved fast through a service entrance into the cool night air. We slipped around the side of the house, through the manicured gardens, until we reached his car.

He opened my door. I slid in, my legs barely holding me. He got in beside me, breathing hard, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

"We almost..." I started.

"I know." He turned to me, his eyes wild in the dark. "He almost saw you. He almost saw us."

He reached across the center console and pulled me into his lap. His mouth found mine again, desperate and furious.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.

"Tomorrow," he said, his voice ragged. "I’m taking you somewhere no one can find us. No fathers. No labels. Just us."

He started the car. The engine roared to life.

⸻

But as he pulled out of the lot, I looked back at the mansion, at the tall windows glowing gold against the night.

And I swore I saw a figure standing in the glass.

Watching us leave.

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