4

Declan’s POV

The first thing I did after walking into my room was lock the door. The second was to punch the wall until the frame rattled. Pain shot through my knuckles and I welcomed it.

“Fuck!”

I grabbed the crystal tumbler sitting on my dresser and hurled it across the room. It exploded against the wall, whiskey soaking into the cream wallpaper before shards of glass scattered across the hardwood floor. I didn’t care about the clusterfuck around me.

Out of every fucking woman in Westwood, it had to be her mother. Harper Carter.

For so many years I told myself to wait. Wait until she stopped looking at me like I was something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe and she finally looked at me the way every other girl did. Then I can finally get her into my bed.

Now? It is looking very much impossible because my father decided to marry her mother. I bitter humorless laugh escaped me.

Harper Carter is my Stepsister? The word tasted like poison.

I dragged both hands through my hair and paced the room. This couldn’t be happening. Not after years of watching her and waiting. Not after spending every damn day finding another excuse to get under her skim just so she’d look at me and narrow those eyes.

I stopped when a soft thud came from the other side of the wall. My jaw tightened realizing her room is right next to mine. What other torture do I need?

I hadn’t thought the walls would be this thin. I have never paid so much attention to sounds like I do right now. A drawer slid open then another. The dull scrape of a suitcase zipper followed and I realized she was unpacking.

She always unpacked before taking a shower after gym. I froze. The thought came so naturally that it took me a second to realize it.

How many times have I watched her routine without even meaning to remember it? A few seconds later, water rushed through the pipes. She is showering now right on freaking schedule.

I shut my eyes. I should’ve been thinking about anything else but that is all I could think about. Instead, all I could picture was her under the water in a shower next to mine. The water running down those thick and soft looking thighs I have somehow become so obsessed witj.

I shoved the thought away but it came back anyway with an almost clear picture of her from the glimpses I’ve seen in her gym wear. Her tits that would jiggle when she lifts weight that’s too heavy and then m–

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I muttered standing against the wall with eyes closed.

Of all the rooms in this house, she had to end up beside mine. The irony almost made me laugh. I’d chosen this room months ago because it was the quietest wing in the house. Now it is the loudest.

Every sound now reminds me that Harper Carter was only a wall away. And for the first time since I’d met her, she was so close enough to touch yet she’s never been farther out of reach. She is now off limits.

———

Sleep never came that night and around six, I gave up trying. I crossed the room and pulled the curtains apart. The gardens stretched across the estate washed in the pale light of dawn.

Movement caught my eye and the source of my lack of sleep was there. Harper Carter.

She’s traded yesterday’s dress for black leggings, an oversized university hoodie and white trainers. Her blonde hair was tied into a loose ponytail that bounced with every stride. Headphones covered her ears.

I leaned one shoulder against the window frame, my eyes following her as she disappeared around the fountain before coming back into view a few seconds later. I think she is getting in her ten k steps that she missed yesterday. She never miss those.

She rounded the path again. She really needed to stop wearing leggings like that. The thought irritated me.

It’s not even because of her. But because every man with functioning eyes would look.

Did she even notice? Did she care?

She ran alone without security or a driver. Just headphones and the false confidence that nothing would happen to her. That’s completely idiotic. I watched until she disappeared beyond the hedges and only then did I step away from the window.

By the time I made it downstairs, she’s already showered. The chef looked up the moment we walked into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Kings. Miss Carter. What can I make for you?” The assistant chef asked with his professional smile in place.

Harper opened her mouth to answer but I beat her to it.

“Oatmeal.” The word left my mouth before I could stop it.

The chef gave a polite nod, already reaching for a saucepan. Across the island, Harper slowly turned to look at me.

“I’m sorry?”

“You trained this morning.”

“I know.” She frowned as if I’m not making sense.

“So oatmeal.”

“When exactly did you become my nutritionist?”For a moment, she just stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

“You always eat oatmeal after cardio.” I shrugged, keeping my expression carefully blank.

“That’s fucking creepy.” Harper blinked once then she laughed in disbelief.

The chef froze with a carton of eggs in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other. His eyes flicked to me then to Harper. Seeing my eyes on him, the sauce pan became more interesting then our conversation.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out because she wasn’t wrong. It was creepy. Most people can't tell you what their friends eat after the gym. And I kept cupcakes for her yesterday in her locker for her birthday and know she wants to burn those calories.

I could tell you Harper skipped breakfast every Thursday if she overslept. I knew she hated raisins in her oatmeal. She drinks her coffee black after leg day because she claimed milk made her sluggish. None of those things should’ve been living in my head. Yet they were.

Harper shook her head slowly like she’d decided I was beyond saving.

“I’ll have pancakes.”

The chef hesitated for half a second. He looked at me as though waiting for permission to disagree. He wouldn’t get it so he quickly recovered.

“Very well, Miss Carter.”

She took the mug of coffee he slid across the counter, shooting me one last strange look before walking out of the kitchen. I didn’t realize I was watching her until she disappeared around the corner. My phone vibrated against the marble countertop.

Hayes: Bro. Party tonight?

I dismissed the notification without opening it. A second one followed almost immediately.

Hayes: Bringing someone?

My gaze lingered on the now empty doorway. I stared at the message for another second before typing a different reply.

Me: Not coming.

The screen went dark as I locked my phone. The party would still be there next weekend. Harper, unfortunately will be here every day.