The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Suspicion

"Who’s cooking?" My mother stood in the kitchen doorway, tying her robe.

"I will," I said.

Lucian’s head snapped up from his phone. "I’ll help."

My mother laughed. "You? Cook?"

"I chop things." He was already moving, sliding past her into the kitchen. "I’m excellent at chopping."

"Last time you helped, you burned the food. Don’t bother," she said, laughing.

"That was one time."

"Three times."

"I’ve grown." He grabbed an apron and tossed me one. His eyes caught mine, bright and mischievous. "Come on. Teach me."

"Lucian." I shoved him toward the counter. "Eggs."

He caught my wrist. His thumb brushed my pulse. "Yes, ma’am."

My mother watched from the doorway, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. I smiled at her, too wide.

"We’ve got this, Mom. Go sit."

She didn’t move. "You sure?"

"Positive."

She left, but her footsteps stopped in the hallway. I knew she was still there.

Lucian cracked an egg. Shell fell into the bowl.

"You’re terrible at this," I whispered.

"You’re terrible at pretending you don’t want me here."

I elbowed him. He caught my waist, his hand spreading against my hip, and suddenly we were pressed against the counter, his body warm behind me. The spatula clattered to the floor.

"What was that?" my mother called.

"Nothing!" I bent to grab it. Lucian bent with me, his mouth at my ear.

"Your neck is red."

"Because you’re embarrassing me."

"Because you like it."

I stood up fast and whisked the eggs too hard. Yellow splattered across the counter. Lucian laughed, low and rough, and reached past me for the salt. His chest brushed my back. His breath stirred my hair.

"Stop," I breathed.

"Stop what?"

"Touching me."

"I’m reaching for seasoning."

"You’re reaching for me."

His hand settled on my hip, hidden by the apron. "And if I am?"

I couldn’t answer. The bacon hissed. The toaster popped. My mother’s shadow shifted in the hallway.

"Lucian," I whispered. "She’s watching."

"Then let her watch."

But he stepped back, his hand sliding away, leaving my skin cold.

We served the food in a silence that wasn’t silent. My hands shook as I set down the plates. Lucian’s knuckle brushed mine when he passed the orange juice.

My mother sat across from James. I sat across from Lucian.

The table was too small.

"Smells good," James said, unfolding his napkin.

"Eliora did the eggs," Lucian said. "I supervised."

"You mean you contaminated them," my mother said.

"With what?"

"With your presence."

Lucian grinned. I looked down at my plate, but I felt his eyes on me, heavy and hot.

Under the table, I slipped my foot out of my slipper.

The floor was cold. I stretched my leg forward, my toes finding Lucian’s ankle. He flinched. His knee knocked the table. The glasses rattled.

"You okay?" James asked.

"Fine." Lucian cleared his throat. "Leg cramp."

I pressed my toes higher, tracing his calf. He gripped his fork like it might snap. I watched his throat move as he swallowed. I pushed higher, my foot settling for his dick between his legs.

His nostrils flared. He cut into his eggs with mechanical precision, not looking at me. His free hand dropped below the tablecloth and gripped my ankle, his fingers digging in, warning.

I didn’t stop.

"Eliora." My mother’s voice cut through the breakfast. "You haven’t touched your food."

"I’m eating." I stabbed an egg. It broke, yolk spreading across the plate.

"You’ve been staring at Lucian for five minutes."

"I haven’t."

"You have." She set down her coffee cup. The ceramic clicked against the saucer. "Both of you. You’re not listening to a word James is saying."

I blinked. James was talking, something about work. I hadn’t heard a single word.

"Sorry," I said. "Tired."

"Tired," my mother repeated.

She looked at Lucian. He looked at his plate. His jaw was clenched, the muscle jumping.

"More juice?" James asked.

"No," Lucian said. His voice was strained. "I’m good."

"You look flushed," my mother said.

"It’s hot in here."

"It’s sixty degrees outside."

Lucian stood up so fast his chair scraped against the tile. "Excuse me."

He walked to the bathroom. His gait was stiff. The door clicked shut.

My mother watched him go.

Then she watched me.

I slipped my foot back into my slipper. My heart hammered. I took a bite of cold eggs.

She caught me by the front door, my keys already in my hand.

"Eliora." Her voice was sharp. "Stop."

I turned. She stood in the hallway, her arms crossed tight against her chest, her face pale and set.

"I have class," I said.

"Class can wait." She walked toward me, her slippers snapping against the hardwood. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Don’t." She stopped two feet away. Her eyes were hard, searching. "Don’t play dumb. I saw you in that kitchen. The giggling. The way you stood together. The way he looked at you."

"Mom..."

"And breakfast." She stepped closer. Her voice dropped but didn’t soften. "You didn’t eat. You didn’t listen. James asked you three questions and you stared at Lucian like he was the only person at the table."

"I was tired..."

"You’re not tired." Her hand shot out and gripped my arm. Her fingers dug in. "You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted for weeks. Missing dinner. Jumping when I say his name. And last night at the party..." She stopped, her jaw tightening. "When that girl touched his arm, you looked like you wanted to kill her."

I pulled my arm free. "That’s not..."

"What?" She moved into my space. "Not true? I was watching, Eliora. I see everything. The way your breath catches when he walks into a room. The way you two find each other in a crowd without even looking." Her eyes burned into mine. "Something is happening. Tell me I’m wrong."

"You’re wrong."

"Say it like you mean it."

I opened my mouth. My throat closed. The words stuck.

She saw it. Her face crumpled for one second before the mask snapped back.

"Oh, God." She pressed her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders sagged. "Eliora. Tell me you’re not falling for your stepbrother."

"I’m not falling for anyone."

"Look at me." She grabbed my shoulders, her nails biting through my sweater. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything for him. Say, ’I don’t want him.’ Say it."

"I don’t want him." The words came out flat, broken.

"Bullshit." She shook me. Hard. My head snapped back. "You’re lying. I can see it all over your face. And if you’re lying to me about this, then something is already happening. Something dangerous."

"Nothing is happening!" My voice cracked. I shoved her hands off me. "Why are you doing this? Why are you interrogating me?"

"Because I’m trying to save you!" Her shout echoed down the hallway. She caught herself, lowering her voice to a hiss. "James is a good man. He gave us a home. Stability. And Lucian is his son. That makes this forbidden. That makes it wrong. Do you understand what people would say? What James would think?"

"We’re not related..."

"That doesn’t matter!" She stepped back, her chest heaving. "If James finds out his son and my daughter are sneaking around, he will be destroyed. He will hate us. He will hate me. And this family..." She gestured wildly at the walls around us. "This family will fall apart before it even starts."

"There’s nothing to find out," I said. My hands were shaking. I hid them behind my back. "Nothing is going on."

She stared at me. The silence stretched, thick and ugly.

"You’re my daughter," she said quietly. "I know when you’re lying. I know because I spent twenty years lying to myself about your father. About the bruises. About the fear." She stepped close again, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t fall for someone who will destroy your life."

"Lucian isn’t destroying my life."

The words slipped out before I could catch them.

Her face went white. She stared at me like I’d slapped her.

"You said his name," she whispered.

I froze. Blood roared in my ears.

"I didn’t..."

"You did." She backed away, her hand finding the wall for support. "You defended him. You didn’t say ’nobody.’ You said ’Lucian.’" Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Eliora. No."

"Mom..."

"Stop." She held up her hand. Her voice was ragged. "Just... stop." She wiped her cheek with the back of her wrist. "If there is even a chance, even a small chance, that you feel something for him, you need to end it. Now. Before it goes further. Before someone gets hurt."

"There is nothing to end," I said. My voice was hollow. "I told you. Nothing is happening."

She looked at me. Really looked at me. Her eyes traced my face, my trembling lips, my red-rimmed eyes.

"Okay," she said. The word was heavy, final. "I believe you."

She didn’t. I could see it in the way her mouth tightened, in the way she wouldn’t look at me anymore.

"Go to class," she said. She turned and walked back toward the kitchen, her shoulders rigid. "Lock the door when you leave."

I stood in the hallway, my keys cutting into my palm, my breath coming too fast.

Lucian stepped out of the bathroom. His face was pale, his eyes dark and wide. He’d heard everything. I could see it in the set of his jaw, the way his hands hung empty at his sides.

"Eliora," he breathed.

I walked past him. I grabbed my bag from the couch and opened the door.

"You’re leaving?" he asked.

"I have to."

"Eliora..."

I looked back at him. His eyes were devastated. Behind him, I could hear my mother in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet door.

"She knows," I whispered.

"She doesn’t know," he said. "She suspects."

"Same thing."

I walked out. The morning air hit my face, cold and sharp. I didn’t look back until I reached my car. He stood in the doorway, small and alone, getting smaller as I drove away.

My phone buzzed before I reached the corner.

Lucian: Come back.

I threw the phone in my bag and pressed the gas harder.

The lie was out. The seed was planted. And somewhere in the house behind me, my mother was already wondering how badly she’d failed to believe it.

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