Page 29 of Jealous Stepbrother (Jealous & Possessive #4)

HOT DOG TEST

Scarlett

T hree months later

The lights of the runway still pulse in my veins like electricity, the roar of applause echoing in my ears.

House of M’s new collection is a triumph— our triumph.

My sketches and his vision, our blood and sweat stitched into every inch of silk and velvet and sequins. And when Asher takes my hand and pulls me out on stage beside him for the final bow, the world erupts.

Cameras flash and my cheeks ache with smiling.

In the very first seats on the front row, Victor and Mom rise, smiling with complicated pride. When Asher wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, they don’t frown or protest.

Hell, they even step forward. Mom kisses my cheek and Victor gives a grudging nod that feels like absolution-adjacent.

A blessing, of sorts.

I’ve accepted that our love will always prompt question marks in people’s minds. Luckily Asher gives zero fucks. And me… I’m learning to care less and less each day.

Later, when the champagne’s gone flat and the crowd thins, my love leans down, murmurs against my temple, “You were amazing and beautiful and sexy tonight, baby. You deserve a present. What do you want, princess? Name it. Anything.”

What spills out is ridiculous, anticlimactic. “A hot dog. Greasy. From a bodega cart.”

He groans like I’ve stabbed him through the heart. “Jesus Fucking Christ. Of all the decadent things in this city, you pick that?”

“Yes,” I laugh, clinging tighter to him. “That’s what I want. Right now. Will you give your baby sister what she needs?”

His eyes darken and his breathing grows choppy. “Al-fucking-ways. Let’s go.”

He takes me. Buys me the greasiest hot dog in Manhattan, grumbling the whole time while I devour it like it’s Michelin-starred cuisine, watching me with a mix of disgust and awe, as though he’ll never understand the things that make me happy but will give them to me anyway.

Then, while I’m licking mustard off my thumb, he kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Wait here,” he rasps, then disappears into the pharmacy next door.

I blink when he emerges with a small white bag. “What did you buy?” I ask, baffled.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just slips an arm around my waist, pulls me flush against him, and lowers his mouth to my ear as we head for the town car parked on the curb.

His voice is dark velvet, hot enough to burn when he rasps, “A test.”

I blink harder. “A what?”

“A pregnancy test.” He nuzzles the corner of my mouth, his lips brushing the smile I don’t even realize I’ve lost. “Your tits are heavier and you’re four days late, baby sis. I’ve been keeping track.”

My breath tangles in my throat and I stumble to a halt. “Asher… what are you?—”

“I’ve been breeding you, Scarlett.” His voice is low and brutal and reverent. “Every drop of my seed in your tight little body was on purpose. Every time I made you choke on the word brother , it was with this in mind. Our future. Our family. Our babies.”

I shake my head, tears pricking with undiluted happiness. A greasy hot dog… and a baby I didn’t even know I craved until right this second?

My knees go weak. My heart breaks wider open.

Bodies pass us on the sidewalk, but he doesn’t care.

He never has.

“I wanted a piece of you any way I could have you. Now I’ll take it all.” He presses the bag into my trembling hand. “Let’s go home and find out when you’re going to give me everything I’ve ever fucking wanted.”

His eyes burn into mine, unyielding, unrepentant.

The world doesn’t matter.

Florence doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters but this—his madness, my surrender, and the baby he’s already decided belongs to us.