Page 60 of Heartless Stepbrother

A quiet, controlled danger.

He leaned one shoulder against the balcony frame, arms loosely crossed, as if he had been there for hours. As if breaking into my room in the middle of the night was nothing more than slipping into a conversation we had paused earlier.

My stomach dropped.

My skin prickled.

Every part of me jolted awake.

“Riley…” My voice cracked around his name, thin and whisper-soft. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes traveled slowly over me, lingering in a way that made heat crawl over my neck. I clutched the blankets tighter, lifting them to shield the bare skin of my thighs, suddenly unbearably aware of the oversized sleep shirt riding up and me wearing nothing underneath.

He took in the small movement.

His lips curved, not into a smile, but into something quieter.

Something that made my pulse stutter.

“How did you get in here?” My voice cracked, hoarse from too little sleep and too much silence. It was barely more than a whisper, and I hated how small it sounded.

I remembered I closed the door. I remembered the final click of metal sliding into place, that fragile illusion of safety.

He didn’t answer at once. Didn’t move. He simply tilted his head, that slow, predatory gesture that made the space between us shrink even though neither of us had shifted. Then he smiled, the same smile that had gutted me at the pool. It wasn’t warmth. It wasn’t charm. It was knowledge. The knowing of power.

“Oh, princess,” he said softly, and the sound of that word coming from his mouth made my stomach tighten. “Did you really think a latch could stop me?”

He rose slightly in the chair, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The sunlight caught his profile, outlining the sharp edge of his jaw.

“After last night, did you honestly believe I’d wait politely for you to wake up?” he continued, his tone light, conversational, as though this were breakfast talk between friends. “We’re family now, remember? The receptionist was more than happy to give Mr. Maddox a key to his dear sister’s room.”

He saidsisterlike a curse.

My blood ran cold.

The room felt smaller.

The bed felt smaller.

My own breath felt too loud.

He moved closer, not enough to touch, but enough to make the sheets between my fingers tremble. His gaze flicked to the dresser. Something rested there. Something I hadn’t noticed in the inky dark.

My bikini top.

Folded.

Perfectly.

Mockingly.

He must have placed it there deliberately, like a calling card or a challenge.

My pulse thundered.

Riley’s eyes returned to mine, gleaming with that dangerous, toying edge that both terrified and infuriated me.

“I thought you might want that back,” he murmured.