Page 27 of Heartless Stepbrother

“You.” It came out thin, broken. Barely a breath.

He chuckled. It wasn’t a laugh so much as a promise of trouble, low and rough, stroking along my nerves.

“Surprised?” he murmured, his voice dipping low, smooth as sin. “I’m not. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t just watch this time.”

The words hit like a slap, my humiliation from last night ripping free from the place I’d buried it. But there was something else tangled in the sting, something darker, messier, that had my pulse beating in my throat.

I straightened, forcing steel into my voice even though my insides were soft and twisting. “I need to find my seat.”

He leaned back casually. “Oh, don’t worry about that.” The tone changed, still quiet, but with a weight that settled deep in my gut. “This one’s yours.”

He patted the empty chair beside him as if it had already been decided.

“No.” My voice was firmer this time, though my hands were trembling. “I need to—“

He shifted, just enough to block the narrow space between the rows. The move was subtle, but the message was clear: I wasn’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.

“Nonsense.” The smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it sharpened. “This is the best view in the house. Or would you rather sit next to him?” His finger indicated a boy across the aisle.

I followed the line of his hand, my eyes landing on a stranger.

Dark hair, though it lacked sharpness. His clothes hung a little loose, like he hadn’t cared enough to fit into them properly. His shoulders slouched, his gaze darted, and while there was nothing ugly about him, there was nothing magnetic either. Just… there. Unremarkable.

“Who is that?” I asked, keeping my voice low, hoping it didn’t betray how tightly my pulse was racing.

He chuckled. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t kind. It was a quiet, dangerous sound that held me by the throat. “You don’t know?” He leaned in a little, his words cutting through the space between us. “How fascinating.”

Heat crawled up my neck, my face burning.

He didn’t stop. “So you walked into this day without a clue? No names. No faces. No idea who you’re promising to share a family with?” His mouth curved, not into a smile but a blade. “Pathetic.”

Embarrassment flared hot and immediate. He was right. I hadn’t met any of the people here. My mum had swept me into this life as if it were a fairy tale, as if I could simply slot into the Maddox name without question, without preparation.

My gaze darted back to the boy he had pointed at.

This had to be him. Riley Maddox. My new stepbrother. The name tasted foreign in my head, and yet when I studied the boy’s restless hands and awkward posture, a fragile relief seeped through me. He didn’t look like the type to terrify me. He didn’t look like the type to matter. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive this after all.

But a low laugh slid underneath my skin again, stealing the thought before it could settle.

“Keep staring at him,” the boy next to me murmured, his tone dripping with mockery. “Maybe you’ll convince yourself he’s safe. But safety doesn’t exist in the Maddox family. Not for you.”

I swallowed hard, unable to look away from Riley now, even when every instinct screamed that I should. My chest tightened, breath catching somewhere it couldn’t escape.

“Come on, Luna.” the boy from last night said my name like he owned it, like he’d been waiting to use it. “Don’t be shy. At leastwehave already been… acquainted.”

The last word landed heavy between us, thick with meaning.

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I was sure it would break free.

He wasn’t joking. He really expected me to sit beside him.

The thought was unbearable, like being asked to drown and then smile while doing it. How was I supposed to sit through the entire ceremony next to the boy who I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about? The boy who now wore that infuriating, smug expression like a trophy? Who was clearly savoring my discomfort?

Guests were settling. The soft swell of music was rising, weaving through the gathered crowd, signaling the beginning. I could feel every pair of eyes on us, the weight of their curiosity pressing down like a physical force. I couldn’t make a scene. Not here. Not now. Not with this entire crowd watching.

So, with a sigh that felt like surrender, heavy and slow, I slid into the empty seat beside him.

Instantly, heat bloomed at my side. It wasn’t just the close space, it was something darker, something that radiated off him, a raw, unspoken challenge that set my nerves alight.