Page 26 of Heartless Stepbrother

My throat tightened, the emotion pressing against my voice. “Always, Mum.”

For a breath, we stood in silence, surrounded by the rustle of leaves, the faint perfume of orchids, the pull of the tide. It felt like the last inhale before a leap.

A figure appeared, the resort coordinator, dressed in crisp white, his presence calm but purposeful. “It’s almost time, Eleanor. Miss Luna, please find your seat now.”

I hesitated, not wanting to let go just yet, but Mum gave me a small nod, her smile steady now. “Go on, my love. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I returned her smile, though my chest felt oddly tight, and stepped away.

The ceremony space unfolded before me in a wash of white and gold. Rows of chairs draped with gauzy fabric faced an arch wrapped in orchids and trailing ribbons, the ocean framed perfectly behind it like a living painting. Sunlight bounced off the water, casting moving patterns across the foliage. Guests shifted in their seats, their voices a low murmur under the rhythmic hush of the waves.

I kept my eyes on the ground as I wove between the chairs, not ready to meet the curious gazes I could feel brushing over me. Even here, surrounded by beauty, I felt the faint burn of being an outsider, the new girl in a celebration built on old connections.

A warm sea breeze swept past, teasing the hem of my pale blue dress as if urging me forward.

And then…

My world snagged.

Just beyond the aisle, in the second row from the front, a figure sat with his back to me. Broad shoulders stretched beneath the dark lines of a perfectly cut suit. His hair, dark and thick, caught the light in a way that made it gleam like polished onyx. Even without seeing his face, my stomach twisted into a cold knot. Recognition hit low and sharp, the kind that stole my breath before I could deny it.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Not here. Not now.

I stepped closer and closer without meaning to, my pulse pressing in my ears, the rest of the ceremony site blurring into nothing but him. As if he felt me there, his head tilted, just slightly, and then turned.

My breath fractured in my chest.

It was him.

The boy from the beach.

But this wasn’t the flirty and dangerous figure from last night. This was something sharper. Darker. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket was blinding against his sun-tanned skin, the open collar hinting at an ease that was anything but casual. His hair had been tamed, styled so it fell in deliberate waves across his forehead. And those eyes… those impossible, dark eyes found me instantly, catching and holding with the precision of a trap snapping shut.

The smirk came next. Slow. Intentional. The exact curve of his mouth I’d been trying all morning to forget, curling now with an edge that said he remembered every detail. Every humiliation.

Heat rushed through me. Not the good kind, but the hot, choking kind that made my fingers curl into my palm. My composure shattered, splintering into jagged pieces that cut all the way down. Every mortifying second from last night uncoiled inside me, raw and unrelenting.

He knew.

He remembered.

And he was here.

His gaze didn’t just land on me, it prowled.

A slow, unhurried sweep that started at the hem of my dress, trailed upward over the curve of my waist, and lingered deliberately at the flush on my cheeks. When his eyes locked with mine, that smirk deepened, a silent, merciless acknowledgment of what we both remembered.

I stopped right next to his row.

“Careful, Princess.” His voice was low, intimate, as if the words were meant for my bones, not my ears. The lazy, husky cadence wrapped around me despite the soft music and the gentle murmur of guests. “People might start asking why you’re staring at me like you already know what I sound like when you shouldn’t.”

His words dripped with mockery, but it slid through me like a touch I couldn’t shake.

My cheeks flamed hotter. I hated that I couldn’t school my expression, couldn’t stop the disbelief from showing.