His Riveting Stepbrother

“Welcome again, Mr. Raymond.” My mother welcomed the guest.The same burly man was in my living room again. He filled up the velvet armchair with his terse behind. The seat on which only my father sat. Mother was perched at the edge of her chair, wiggling her buttocks on the corner like a dog scratched on its neck. How could she let this man defy my father? Dad was never around when this big and intimidating man visited.The first time I saw Don Raymond, I understood why people feared him.He stood at the far end of the grand hall, dressed in a dark suit so perfectly tailored it looked like a second skin. Everything about him was polished—his sooth hair slicked back without a strand out of place, his sharp jaw set in stone. His presence filled the room without effort.When he turned to me, I felt it. His gaze on me was cold, unreadable. I caught my mother’s eye when the man made me turn around for his inspection. Then without another word, he nodded to her and made his way into the fa

The first weeks of our marriage passed in a cold, unspoken routine.Don kissed me only when cameras were flashing. Paparazzi lingered outside the estate, eager for a glimpse of the perfect couple. But the moment the lenses turned away, so did he.At night, I lay in the vast bedroom alone, staring at the ceiling, listening for any sign that he was in the house. I never saw him after dinner. I never heard him come to bed. He existed in his own world, and I was a ghost haunting the periphery.I learned quickly that there were rules even concerning the houseworkers.The maids were to tend to my every need. I was not to work. I was not to cook. I was to remain in my room unless summoned. But I refused to be a prisoner in my own home.The first time I defied him, I waited until I was certain he had left for the day. Then I padded down to the kitchen, my silk robe trailing behind me. The chefs froze when they saw me."Mrs. Raymond—""Cassie," I corrected. "And I want to make my own breakfast

Elsie told me that Jay was single, didn't she? Or was it that he had no wife yet? Maybe this woman was a girlfriend, a coworker, a fiancée. I forced myself to look away. My glass felt too small to hide behind, and the wine tasted like sour jealousy on my tongue.Was it a diversion? Holding the woman? Did Jay want to send a message so he came with arm-candy just to keep me away?Or was I just reading too much into this? I felt worse for what I did. No, it wasn't my fault. Jay kissed me! But I asked for it.I didn’t realize how stiff I had gone until Arthur’s voice rang behind me. “Cassandra, my dear!”He always called me by my full name. I smiled and turned to face him, letting the polite daughter-in-law mask slip into place.“Arthur, you look dashing today.” It was true. He had on a cotton green suit and silk paisley tie. He held both my hands, warm and familiar, and planted a kiss on my cheek. “And you look like a gem in a treasure chest. Where is that son of mine? Didn’t you two c

Watching Jay leave through my bedroom window and not being able to follow was like being chained behind bars in a notorious prison cell. I reminded myself that I did the right thing by not letting Jay kiss me. I was someone else’s wife.A knock came on the door. I thought it was Elsie so I mindlessly told the person to come in.But it was Don. for a second, i thought he had heard me running up the stairs to my room. I checked his eyes for confirmation. There were no flames in them. Rather, they were ocean blue currents. “Cassandra, here is your phone.”Was it Wednesday already? I had been so distracted with Jay that I hadn't remembered my weekly internet access and call allowances. I took the phone from Don courteously and stepped back. He still stood there, all 6’3 imposing builds of a man. His eyes were set on me. If he was a more present husband, he would have seen the hitch in my composure.“Won’t you give me some privacy?”Don did not step back. He did not move an inch. “You are

kissed me like he’d waited a lifetime for it. Like everything in him was burning and I was the water to put it out.My back hit the tree behind the fountain, his hands on either side of me, holding me like something precious. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.Then he lifted me effortlessly. I was a feather in his arms. My legs wrapped around him without a thought. He carried me and walked, slowly, reverently, back toward the oak bench beneath the twisted vines, our place. The one where his lips had first found mine.The world blurred around us. The wind ruffled the When he sat, I stayed on him, straddling his lap, our foreheads pressed together. My heart felt wild in my chest, galloping like an excited horse. His hands cupped the back of my neck, allowing his thumbs to brush my jaw. His breath was shaky, and I felt it, all of him, underneath me.“I have waited for this,” I whispered.“I can tell,” he murmured back, his voice like smoke in my ear. “So have I.”I closed my eyes. “It