LOGINTell me you're happy with him." I looked away and that was all the answer Luca needed. Seven years ago, my stepbrother shattered my heart and disappeared from my life. Now he's back...richer, more powerful, and my new boss. My husband is cheating and my marriage is falling apart. And the one man I should never want is looking at me like I still belong to him. Some secrets should stay buried. Unfortunately, Luca and I were never good at letting go.
View MoreNYRA'S POV
God, I felt nothing at all. Richard was on top of me again, grunting and sweating like a desperate pig. Same lifeless rhythm… in and out, in and out, like he was checking off a chore. My silk nightie was bunched up around my waist, legs spread from pure muscle memory after three years of this bullshit. I stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above us. One… two… three… My pussy was dry as bone, completely checked out. Then my brain betrayed me, like it always did. I squeezed my eyes shut and replaced him with Luca. Those dark, hungry eyes staring down at me. His rough voice growling right in my ear, “Shut the fuck up and take it, Nyra.” I pictured his big, strong hands pinning my wrists above my head, his thick cock stretching me open, slamming into me hard and deep like he owned every inch of my body. Heat exploded between my legs, and my back arched off the bed for real this time. A real, filthy moan ripped out of my throat. In seconds I was soaked, dripping down my thighs, my pussy clenching desperately around Richard’s average dick while he kept pumping away like nothing had changed. That did it for him, two more sloppy thrusts and he groaned loudly, shooting his weak load inside me before collapsing on my chest like a sack of bricks. “Shit, Nyra,” he panted, rolling off me. “You could at least pretend you’re into it. You used to be way hornier. It feels like I’m fucking a dead pillow lately.” I forced a fake smile. “Sorry, babe, long day.” He didn’t even look at me, just scratched his hairy ass and shuffled to the bathroom. While he was gone, I spotted the bright red lipstick smear on his suit jacket collar, it was not my shade. It should’ve pissed me off, gotten me mad, but it didn’t. Our marriage was already dead and rotting. He came back yawning. “Night.” Turned his back and started snoring like a truck in under two minutes. I lay there in the dark, my thighs sticky with his cum, my clit still throbbing painfully from the fantasy. My pussy was aching, wet and empty, screaming for something rough and real. Something I knew I’d never get from him. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Mom: Come home for dinner tomorrow night baby, something important. 7pm sharp. Don’t be late. The next evening, right before I left the house, Richard brought it up. He was standing in front of the mirror, loosening his tie, when he glanced at me. “Babe, the company’s in deep shit, cash flow is completely fucked. We’ve got maybe two months before things get ugly.” I froze halfway to the door, my stomach twisted. Richard sighed and turned around. “Look, isn’t your stepbrother Luca some big-shot CEO? The guy’s loaded. You should reach out and ask him for help, he’s family, right?” My cheeks burned instantly. Just hearing his name out loud made my pussy clench. “We’re not close,” I said quickly. “He’s just my stepbrother.” Richard rubbed the back of his neck, looking tired. “Still. He bought your mom that house and gave you the car when you came back from abroad. As your brother, he’ll probably take the request seriously.” “Stepbrother,” I corrected, my voice sharper than I intended. He gave a small shrug. “Just think about it, okay? We’re running out of options here.” I didn’t answer. I just grabbed my keys and headed for the door. Richard quickly grabbed his jacket. “I’ll go with you.” I paused but didn’t argue. We drove to Mom’s house mostly in silence. Seven years…seven years since that night. I’d told myself I was over it, I got married, I tried to build a normal life. Luca hadn’t even come to my wedding, and that should’ve killed it. But it didn’t. Mom hugged me tight the second I stepped inside. “Nyra! Everyone’s in the dining room, sweetie.” She turned to Richard with a warm smile. “Richard, good to see you. Come in, come in. Dinner is almost ready.” George looked exhausted at the head of the table, and right next to him… Luca. My feet stopped dead, my pulse slammed in my throat. He was thirty-four now and even hotter than I remembered…broader shoulders, sharper jaw, that commanding presence sucking all the air out of the room. Black button-down stretched tight across his chest. The moment his eyes locked on mine, I quickly looked away, cheeks burning. “Luca,” I breathed, voice shaky. “Didn’t know you were back.” “Just got in today.” He stood up slowly, that dangerous half-smile on his lips. His voice was calm and polite. We did the family hug, his strong arms pulled me in tight against him. One hand rested on my upper back, polite, but his fingers brushed the back of my neck for the briefest moment…maybe accidental. I pulled away first, feeling awkward. We sat down and mom jumped in. “George’s health got worse, Luca’s been running things from the other city but he’s back full time as CEO now. He's staying in town for good, isn't that good news?” His mom smiled across the table. “Weren’t you two close growing up? Thought he’d have told you already.” My cheeks burned. Close. If they only fucking knew. “We lost touch after I went abroad,” I mumbled. I stood up fast. “Gotta wash my hands before dinner.” I escaped to the guest bathroom and splashed cold water on my burning face. My hands were shaking. You’re married, get a fucking grip, Nyra. The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn. I already knew. The lock clicked shut. Luca leaned against the door, watching me in the mirror with those dark, predatory eyes. The tiny bathroom suddenly felt way too small. “So…” His voice came out low and rough, exactly like in my dirtiest fantasies. “How’s married life?”The glass boardroom on the forty-second floor of Colebridge Capital felt like a pressure cooker about to blow. Luca stood at the head of the mahogany table, knuckles turned white from how hard he was pressing them into the polished wood. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows the city was completely smothered in gray fog, but inside the air was thick with cigarette smoke, cheap coffee, and that sharp metallic tang of pure panic. Sixteen board members sat in the high-backed leather chairs, faces pale and tight. Across from Luca sat the standard counsel plus three outside crisis consultants Reid had dragged in at six that morning. “You are out of options, Luca,” Reid said. His voice was flat, razor-sharp, and completely empty of sympathy. He dropped a thick white folder in the middle of the table. “Stock dropped another seven percent at the open. Three of our biggest institutional investors already threatened to dump everything by noon if we don’t put out a clear statement. This isn’t
NYRA'S POV The morning alarm didn't ring. Neither of us needed it. By six o'clock, the sky over the city was a dirty shade of bruise-purple, heavy with rain that hadn't let up all night. The apartment was freezing. The central heating had clicked off hours ago, leaving a damp chill clinging to the tall glass windows, but neither Luca nor I moved to adjust the thermostat. I was already awake, sitting on my side of the mattress, dressed in a simple grey turtleneck and black trousers. No makeup, no jewelry, not even the silver watch Luca had bought me for my birthday last year. My skin looked pale in the dim light, but my posture was straight, rigid, and completely still. Luca moved around the bedroom like a storm contained inside a tight space. He threw on his dark charcoal suit, his broad shoulders tensing as he shoved his arms into the sleeves. He dragged a comb through his damp hair, his hands shaking just enough for me to catch the subtle tremor in the mirror’s reflection. Eve
NYRA'S POV I didn't scream. I didn't cry either. After hearing what Luca said through that cracked door, a strange, cold numbness took over my entire body. The tears just completely dried up in my eyes. I backed into the master bedroom step by slow step, shut the door without making a sound, and walked over to the bed. I sat down on the edge of the mattress and stared straight ahead at the dark, blank television screen on the wall. My hands were ice-cold, resting flat in my lap. I didn't tremble. I didn't throw anything. I didn't smash a glass against the wall. I just sat there in the dim gray light filtering through the heavy curtains, feeling like a thick, unbreakable sheet of ice had settled over my heart. A few minutes later, the study door finally clicked open. Luca’s heavy footsteps moved down the long hallway, slow and dragging like he was carrying lead weights in his shoes. He walked into the master bedroom, looking like a man who had just survived a brutal, bloody stree
NYRA'S POV By four in the afternoon, the silence inside the apartment was so thick it felt like heavy, suffocating glass. The rain had stopped making noise against the tall glass windows, settling into a dull, gray drizzle that turned the city outside into a blurred ghost town. I hadn't turned on the lights. I was sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, staring at the dark screen of my broken phone resting on the rug, my stomach twisting in sharp, uneasy knots that had been building since mid-morning. I tried to ignore the physical nausea, telling myself it was just the adrenaline, the lack of food, and the sheer terror of the internet tearing my name to shreds. I needed to move. I needed to do something other than sit in the dark while the world called me a dirty, unfaithful step-sister who had ruined two families for a corporate paycheck. I stood up, resting a hand against the wall until the quick wave of dizziness passed, and walked down the long hallway toward Luca’s private s












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