Forbidden By Her Mafia Stepbrother

The heavy oak doors of the Hierro estate always felt too tall, like they were designed to make whoever walked through them feel small.

Viola pulled the sleeves of her oversized sweater over her knuckles. She kept her head down, hoping her hair would fall over the sides of her face. Maybe if she stayed quiet enough, invisible enough, the evening would pass without any of the usual comments.

"Stand up straight, Viola," Octavia’s voice cut through the silence of the massive hallway, as cold and polished as the marble floor. "And for God’s sake, fix your hair. You look like you just climbed out of a gutter."

Viola flinched, immediately dropping her hands from her sleeves and tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Sorry, mother."

Vanessa brushed past her, smelling of expensive perfume and looking effortless in a tight, midnight-blue dress. She stopped, turning around with a cheap, neon-red mini dress in her hand.

"Mother," Vanessa said smoothly. "Look what I found in Viola's wardrobe."

Viola’s chest tightened. She stared at the red fabric, her eyes widening in panic.

Octavia’s face hardened instantly. She looked at the dress, then glared at Viola. "What is this?"

Viola shook her head, taking a small step back. "Mother, it is not mine. I didn't—"

Crack.

The slap landed hard across her cheek.

Viola’s head snapped to the side. The sharp sting radiated across her skin, but she clamped her mouth shut. She didn't reach up to touch her face. She just stood there, her breathing uneven.

Octavia looked at her and let out a disgusted sneer.

"I go to church," Octavia hissed, stepping closer. "I pray to God every day to keep filth away from this family, and this is what you bring into my house."

Viola didn't say anything. She just looked down at the floorboards, trying to swallow the tight lump in her throat.

"Go fix yourself," Octavia ordered, her tone harsh and unforgiving. "Your stepbrother is arriving today. After years."

She looked Viola up and down, her lip curling in resentment. "If it were not for Rafael, I would not even let you attend the dinner. I don't know why he even wants you there to embarrass us."

Vanessa let out a soft, amused breath and dropped the dress onto a nearby chair.

"Do not embarrass me tonight," Octavia warned. "Do not speak unless spoken to."

Viola just nodded. "Yes, mother."

She knew the rules by now. Stay quiet. Stay out of the way. Let Vanessa be the beautiful one, the charming one.

She didn't care about the arrival of some cartel prince anyway. She just wanted to disappear back into her room, where it was quiet and safe.

Dinner was agonizingly slow. The massive dining room felt suffocating. Rafael Hierro sat at the head of the table, looking older than the last time Viola had seen him, but still terrifying. He moved slowly, but his eyes tracked everything.

And then, the doors opened.

The air in the room seemed to vanish instantly.

Sebastian Cain Hierro didn't just walk into a room; he consumed it. He was massive—easily six-foot-three—with broad shoulders and the kind of dense, heavy muscle that made him look less like a businessman and more like an executioner. He wore a dark suit, but he didn't look civilized in it.

He ignored everyone at the table, stopping only when he reached Rafael.

"You're late," Rafael said, his voice gravelly and thick with authority.

"And you're still breathing," Sebastian replied, his tone smooth, careless, and completely devoid of warmth. "We all have our disappointments."

Rafael’s jaw tightened, but he didn't snap back.

Sebastian finally pulled out a chair—directly across from Viola. He sat back heavily, resting his arms on the table. He looked bored. He looked like he wanted to burn the house down and everyone inside it.

Viola swallowed hard, trying to keep her eyes glued to her plate. Her heart was suddenly beating too fast. The sheer, overwhelming presence of the man across from her was making her chest tight.

"Sebastian," Vanessa said smoothly, leaning forward just enough to show off the neckline of her dress. Her voice was pure honey. "It’s been a long time. You look... well."

Sebastian didn't even look at her. He didn't acknowledge Vanessa’s words or her smile. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver lighter, and began turning it slowly between his long, scarred fingers.

And then, he looked up.

His eyes were a striking, impossible shade of amber. They were cold, sharp, and predatory. And they were looking straight at Viola.

She froze. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't look away.

Sebastian’s gaze didn't soften. He didn't smile. He just stared at her, perfectly still, his eyes dragging slowly over her pale face, lingering for a second on her plump, nervous lips, before locking onto her violet eyes.

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched between them. Viola’s hands began to shake under the table. No one ever looked at her like that. People usually looked away quickly, unsettled by the color of her eyes. But Sebastian just watched her, his expression entirely unreadable.

"Who," Sebastian finally spoke, his voice deep and rough, wrapping around the room like a threat, "is this?"

He didn't point. He didn't even blink. He just kept his amber eyes locked onto Viola’s, trapping her completely in his stare.

"That is my youngest daughter," Octavia answered, her voice tight with thinly veiled irritation. "Viola."

Sebastian stopped turning the lighter in his hands. He slowly raised an eyebrow. "I never knew you had another daughter."

"She was shy when you were here," Octavia said quickly. "She didn't meet anyone before you moved out."

Sebastian tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk that didn't reach his cold eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.

"Viola," he repeated softly. The way he said her name made it sound dangerous.

He held her gaze for one more agonizing second, the silence stretching so tight she thought she might choke on it.

Then, he leaned back, breaking the stare.

"Quiet little thing, aren't you?" he murmured, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

Viola didn't answer. She couldn't. Her hands were still trembling.

As the conversation slowly restarted around them, mostly driven by Vanessa’s desperate attempts to pull his attention back to her, Viola finally managed to look down at her lap.

But even without looking at him, she could feel it. She could feel the heavy, dangerous weight of Sebastian’s amber eyes, completely ignoring the beautiful sister trying to impress him, and watching the quiet, terrified girl instead.