Celeste
I never wanted a new family.
Especially not one with glass walls, a personal chef, and a stepbrother who looked like trouble wrapped in expensive clothes.
The Monroe mansion looked like a castle on the hills. Its white walls shone under the perfect blue sky. I stared at it from the back seat of the fancy car, holding my old suitcase tight.
Mom sat next to me, smiling way too big.
“Don’t look like you’re going to a funeral, Celeste.”
“Don’t act like we just won the lottery,” I shot back.
She gave me that look but didn’t say anything. She was too happy, too caught up in her new life. And why wouldn’t she be?
She’d married Richard Monroe, the guy who practically owned half of California, had billions, and still looked like a movie star, gray hair and all. Her dream of going from poor to rich had come true.
For me? It felt more like a nightmare with servants.
The front door opened before we even got there. A woman in a crisp uniform smiled at us. “Welcome home, Mrs. Monroe. Miss Morgan, Mr. Richard is waiting inside.”
“Darling,” a deep voice called from the grand staircase. Richard Monroe walked down the steps like a king coming to greet his subjects.
He probably closed million-dollar deals with that same confident smile and a sharp knife hidden behind his back.
He kissed my mother. She giggled like a teenager. I wanted to gag—but kept it to myself, of course.
“Celeste,” he said, turning to me. “You look so beautiful.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, not looking him in the eyes.
“Sir?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “We’re family now. Call me Dad.”
The words stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to call this stranger “dad.”
“Call him Dad, Celeste. Don’t be rude.”
This woman. She’d never once cared about my feelings before, so why start now? “Dad,” I finally forced out.
“Good,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Jace will be here soon, but first, let me get you settled. Show them to their rooms,” he told the maid.
Jace.
I hadn’t met him yet. I’d only seen one picture on Mom’s phone. Tall guy. Big shoulders. Dark hair. A tattoo showing at his collar.
My new stepbrother.
The word made me want to throw up.
The inside of the house was even worse.
Shiny marble floors everywhere. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A staircase so big an entire orchestra could fit on it. Everything screamed money and power—and none of it felt like home.
I followed Mom as the maid took us upstairs. “Your rooms are on the third floor. The family wing.”
Family.
Yeah, right.
She opened a huge door to show me a bedroom that looked like the fanciest hotel room ever. Cream walls. Gold decorations everywhere. A closet bigger than our entire old apartment.
I dropped my bag on the floor with a loud thud. “So this is where you dump me.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Celeste, please try. For me.”
I stared at her like she was a stranger.
“This is the best life I could give us,” she added. “Just try to fit in, okay?”
I watched her talk, knowing exactly why she really married him. We both knew it wasn’t for love.
“Celeste, honey—”
“Why do you even care?” I snapped, trying not to lose it completely. “You never cared about how I felt before. Not once.”
“Everything I’m doing right now is for you.”
“Sure it is,” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “I get it now.”
“This is your room. I need to go find Richard.” She sighed and walked out to find her new husband.
I fell back on the huge bed. The quiet was thick and heavy. I hadn’t even started unpacking when I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Then the door opened, without knocking.
“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, sitting up fast. “Do rich people not know how to knock—?”
I stopped breathing.
He stood in my doorway like he owned the whole world. Six feet of solid muscle in a tight black shirt and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips.
Messy dark hair like he’d just rolled out of bed. Sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. A mouth made for sin.
Jace Monroe.
His dark eyes moved over my body—slow and hungry, like he was undressing me with his look. Heat shot through me, and I hated the way my body reacted to him.
Hated that my skin tingled like it recognized something my brain wanted to reject.
“You’re in my room.”
I blinked hard. “Excuse me?”
He walked in and shut the door behind him.
“This used to be my room,” he said, moving closer. “Until your gold-digging mother moved in and took over my house.”
Fire shot up my spine. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” He stepped closer, and I could see the green flecks in his dark eyes. “You’ll run crying to mommy?”
“I’ll kick your ass,” I said, standing up to face him.
He laughed, but it wasn’t nice. It was cold and mean. “You? You’re barely five feet tall.”
“Size doesn’t matter when you know where to hit.”
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. “This is my house. My room.”
“Oh. Well, sorry for the inconvenience, Prince of Entitlement.”
He stared at me, deadpan. “Don’t talk to me like we’re equals.”
I stood, heat crawling up my neck. “Don’t talk to me like I begged to be here.”
He moved closer. I didn’t back away. Neither did he.
“Here’s a rule for you, little stepsister,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “Stay the hell away from me.”
I lifted my chin, refusing to back down. “You came into my room.”
“I’ll walk into whatever I damn well please.”
He moved even closer until I could feel the heat coming off his body. His cologne hit me—clean and dark and expensive, making my head spin.
“Then next time, knock first,” I said. “Or I’ll scream loud enough to wake the whole house.”
His lips curved into a cruel smile. “Scream all you want, princess. Nobody’s going to save you here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes traveled down my body again, this time with pure disgust. “You’re not even pretty. So flat and boring. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it won’t work on me.”
It hit harder than I’d ever admit. He looked at me like I was less than nothing—and worse, I almost believed him for a second.
Before I could say anything back, he turned and walked out, slamming the door so hard the windows shook.
I stood there, breathing hard, my hands shaking.
What the hell just happened?
My body was still buzzing from how close he’d been. From the way he looked at me like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or kill me. From the heat in his eyes right before he tried to tear me down.
This wasn’t just tension between step-siblings.
This was war. And I wasn’t planning to lose.