chapter seven: My stupid fate

I heard the words, but my brain refused to process them.

Ethan. My stepbrother.

No. Fucking. Way.

The restaurant spun around me, my mother's voice fading into the background. My legs refused to move, but finally, I forced them forward.

As soon as I reached the table, she looped her arm around mine, her grip too tight, too controlling.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Sophia."

I barely had time to register the older man sitting beside her before she gestured toward him with a manicured hand.

"This is Robert Blackwood, my fiancé."

"And this is his son, Ethan. But I’m sure you already know that."

I didn’t miss her wink.

Then she gestured toward a girl sitting beside Ethan. "And this is Rachel, his daughter."

Rachel looked just like her father, but I barely spared her a glance. Because my attention was locked on Ethan.

His smirk was slow, knowing.

“Looks like we’re family now, little sister.”

Rachel smiled warmly, completely unaware of the earth-shattering bomb that had just been dropped on my life. "It's nice to meet you, Sophia. I didn't know Dad's fiancée had a daughter."

Ethan didn’t say a word. He just sat there, watching me like he was trying to figure me out.

I swallowed hard. My skin burned under his gaze. He was already supposed to be off-limits as my boss and now this?

“Ethan, dear, take a seat next to Sophia,” my mother said, ever the perfect hostess.

Of course.

I wanted to protest, but my voice refused to cooperate. I could feel my mother’s sharp gaze on me, silently daring me to embarrass her in front of her prized new family.

I sank into my chair, my stomach twisting as Ethan slid into the seat beside me. His scent and expensive cologne mixed with something dangerously intoxicating was invaded my senses, making it impossible to breathe properly.

He was too close.

His arm rested on the back of my chair, like he belonged there. Like he owned the space around me.

I clenched my fists under the table, trying to ignore the way my skin tingle.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” my mother cooed, placing her manicured hand over Robert’s. “A beautiful, blended family.”

Beautiful? What a joke.

I forced myself to look at her, the woman who had given birth to me but never truly mothered me.

Veronica Carter was stunning. Unfairly, frustratingly beautiful.

But knowing how many times she had changed her last name over the years, her beauty wasn’t so impressive anymore.

People never believed she was my mother. They thought she was my older, hotter sister. A fact she adored.

Tonight, she was dressed to kill in a red silk dress that clung to her curves, mirroring my own dress though hers was far more daring.

I wasn’t stupid. She had chosen this on purpose.

She wanted us to match.

To make me an accessory to her perfect little illusion.

Her neckline dipped scandalously low, completely inappropriate for a "family dinner."

She looked every bit the wealthy socialite she had always dreamed of being.

I, on the other hand, felt like a cheap knockoff.

Her blonde hair was obviously fake was styled to perfection. I had lost count of how many times she had changed her hair color, adjusting it to the preferences of whatever rich man she was with at the time.

Robert Blackwood, apparently, liked blondes.

“Robert,” she purred, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a manicured finger, “doesn’t Sophia look just like me?”

Here we go again.

My mother loved fishing for compliments.

Robert, tall, gray-haired, and exuding old money, studied me with an appreciative gaze that made my skin crawl.

“She does,” he mused. “Though she still has a bit of innocence to her.”

I flinched.

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

I dug my nails into my palm, biting back the urge to tell him to choke on his expensive wine and fuck off.

Before I could, Ethan chuckled.

The sound was low, intimate like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I turned sharply, glaring at him, but he only raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching.

“What?” I snapped.

“Nothing,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “Just wondering how innocent you really are.”

My breath caught.

The bastard.

I clenched my thighs together, hating that my body still reacted to him.

“Are you going to eat?” Ethan’s voice was deceptively smooth, but his amusement was merciless.

I stared at the plate in front of me, my appetite completely gone.

How the hell was I supposed to eat when he was right beside me, watching every move I made?

The tension between us was suffocating. Every stolen glance, every accidental touch felt like a game we were playing without acknowledging the rules.

I hated him.

I hated how much he still affected me.

I picked up my fork, forcing myself to cut into my meal, but my hands felt clumsy. My grip on the silverware was weak, my body too aware of him.

It was as if there was a giant elephant in the room neither of us wanted to address.

My boss was now my stepbrother.

And he had seen me naked.

And that made me fucking uncomfortable.

Ethan noticed. Of course he did.

He always noticed.

His lips curled as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my skin.

"Having trouble, sweetheart?"

I almost choked on my wine.

The heat, the closeness, the way his voice dipped just enough to send shockwaves through me, and I knew he was playing with me.

And I had no idea how to stop him.

But in that moment, one thing became terrifyingly clear.

Meeting Ethan Blackwood was the biggest mistake of my life.