Jace
I’d just gotten back from the gym and wanted a shower. But the moment I stepped inside, I could feel her presence, that gold-digging bitch and her daughter, who looked like trouble in bare skin, polluting my house.
She didn’t belong here. Not in my home.
As soon as he saw me, Dad called out, “You’re here, son. Come over.”
I could sense what was about to happen. He was going to introduce me to his new wife. I’d already warned that stubborn old man not to marry her, but he refused to listen.
“What do you want?” I asked, staring hard at the woman standing next to him.
“Watch your mouth,” he snapped.
“My time is valuable, and you know it,” I muttered, walking closer. “Make it fast.”
“This is May,” he introduced her with a bright smile plastered on his face. “Your new mother.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“You heard me clearly, son. Your mother.”
“Hello,” she said softly, stepping closer to me. “I’m your new mother.”
“Shut the hell up,” I snarled at her, making her jump back. “Before I make you regret being a gold-digging whore.”
“What did you just say?” Dad shouted, his hand snapping across my face in a sharp slap. “How dare you call my wife a gold digger!”
My cheek burned. He’d never hit me before. Not even when I deserved it. And now, he did it— for her?
“You hit me?” I touched my face, feeling the sting. “You fucking hit me for her?”
“Don’t you dare—”
“It’s okay, honey,” she interrupted, her voice sweet as poison. “He just needs time to adjust.”
Her tone was sweet, but I wasn’t fooled. I knew her type, I dealt with women like her every single day at the office.
“You don’t need to defend him,” Dad spat. “I know how to handle my son.”
“I will never accept her as my mother,” I stated, heading for the stairs. “Get her out, or I’ll do it myself.”
Rage burned through my veins as I climbed the steps. I shoved open the door to my old room and stepped inside.
And there she was. Celeste Morgan. The daughter of the woman my father married last week in a secret wedding I refused to go to. Twenty years old. Broke as hell. And now living upstairs, in my fucking space.
Sitting on my bed with her legs folded, back arched, wearing a tiny tank top that showed way too much skin for someone who was supposed to be my stepsister.
“Seriously? Do rich people not believe in knocking—?”
She stopped talking when she saw me.
Perfect. I loved that look. The shock and fear on her face.
I leaned against the doorframe, keeping my voice calm and cold. “You’re in my room.”
Her lips opened in surprise. “What?”
She stood up fast, like she needed to be taller to face me.
Damn, she was smaller than I thought. Barefoot. Messy hair. Skin flushed and warm-looking.
I should have walked away. Should have told the maid to pack her shit and throw her out.
Instead, I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
“This used to be my room,” I snarled. “Until your gold-digging mother moved in and fucked up my entire house.”
Most girls would have backed down. Not her.
“Oh. Well, sorry for ruining your perfect little world, Prince Asshole.”
I almost smiled. She had balls, I’d give her that.
“Don’t talk to me like we’re equals.”
That pissed her off. She straightened her shoulders like she wanted to fight me.
“Don’t talk to me like I wanted to be here.”
Fuck.
I moved closer without thinking. Close enough to smell her, vanilla and something sweet that made my mouth water.
She didn’t back away. I liked that way too much.
“I don’t know what kind of game you and your mother are playing,” I said, my voice getting lower. “But here’s the only rule you need to know, little bitchy stepsister: stay the hell away from me.”
“You’re the one who came into my room.”
A challenge. There was no fear in her beautiful eyes.
I stepped even closer, testing her and daring her to run.
“I’ll walk into whatever I damn well please.”
Something hot flashed across her face: anger, defiance, and something that made my blood pump faster.
“Fine. Then next time, knock first. Or I’ll scream loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood.”
I laughed—low and dark. She had no idea what she was dealing with.
“Scream all you want, princess,” I whispered, close enough that my breath touched her skin. “No one’s going to save you here.”
I saw it then. Not fear, but something hungrier. Want. Curiosity. And if I wasn’t careful, it would turn into an obsession that would destroy us both.
Her breathing got faster. Her cheeks turned pink. Those perfect tits rose and fell under her thin tank top, and I had to clench my fists to keep from reaching out and touching them.
Her fire-bright eyes dropped to my mouth for just a second before snapping back up.
My cock was already getting hard just from being this close to her. Just from the way she smelled and the way she looked at me, like she wanted to either slap me or kiss me.
I turned and walked out before I did something stupid, like pushing her against that wall and finding out if she tasted as good as she smelled.
Like kiss that smart mouth until she forgot her own name.
The door slammed behind me, but I couldn’t get the image out of my head - her standing there, breathless, furious, and so damn tempting.
Not yours, I told myself.
But it was already too late. She was going to ruin everything. Or maybe I’d ruin her first. Either way, this was going to end badly.
And I was already looking forward to it.