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TWENTY TWO : OLIVIA
Date de publication:
2026-02-23 19:42:07
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My Forbidden Brother FIFTY TWO : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The heavy oak door of Adrian’s suite didn't just close; it sealed the rest of the world away. The silence of the mansion was absolute, a stark contrast to the thrumming, chaotic energy of the gala we had just fled. There was no father in the hallway, no servants in the wing—just the two of us and the suffocating weight of everything we’d suppressed for the last six hours. Adrian didn’t waste a heartbeat. Before I could even catch my breath, he had me pinned against the door. The impact jolted my spine, the cold wood a sharp shock against the bare skin of my back. His hands, still encased in the black silk of his formal gloves, framed my face with a grip that was more command than caress. "Do you have any idea," he rasped, his voice a dark, jagged edge against my lips, "how many times I wanted to do this while you were smiling at those pathetic heirs?" "Then do it," I breathed, my own hands fumbling with the buttons of his tuxedo vest. "Stop talking, Adrian. Just... do it."
My Forbidden Brother FIFTY ONE : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a dizzying kaleidoscope of gold leaf, crystal chandeliers, and the heavy, cloying scent of hundreds of expensive perfumes mingling with champagne. The roar of conversation was like a physical wave, pressing against me the moment we stepped through the double mahogany doors. I felt like an exotic bird trapped in a gilded cage. Every time a flashbulb went off, I flinched, my hand tightening instinctively on Adrian’s arm. He felt like the only solid thing in a world made of smoke and mirrors. As we moved through the crowd, I realized very quickly that while the Moretti name was legendary, my face was a blank slate to these people. "Adrian, you rogue!" a middle-aged man in a tuxedo that cost more than a mid-sized car boomed, stepping into our path. His eyes immediately slid to me, roaming over the iridescent green silk of my gown with a slow, appreciative hunger. "I see you’ve brought quite the companion tonight. I didn't know you w
My Forbidden Brother FIFTY : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The quiet of the estate was shattered by the arrival of the "glam squad." My father had stayed true to his word—this wasn't just a simple makeup session; it was a full-scale tactical operation. By 1:00 PM, my bedroom had been transformed into a high-end salon, cluttered with rolling cases of cosmetics, curling irons, and the sharp, clean scent of expensive hairspray. The team was a trio of vibrant, fast-talking professionals led by a lead stylist named Jax and a hair artist named Elena. They were a whirlwind of energy, their laughter and the upbeat pop music playing from a portable speaker acting as a buffer against the rising anxiety in my chest. "Darling, skin like yours is a literal dream," Jax chirped, dabbing a chilled rosewater toner onto my face. "I barely need the foundation. We’re going for 'Glass Goddess' today. Very ethereal, very 'I own the room without trying.'" I smiled, trying to match their lighthearted energy. For a few hours, I leaned into the normalcy
My Forbidden Brother FORTY NINE : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The boutique on Fifth Avenue was a cathedral of ivory marble, muted grey velvet, and an oppressive, expensive silence. As the heavy glass doors clicked shut behind us, the roar of New York City vanished, replaced by the faint, clinical scent of expensive perfume and new silk. "Welcome, Mr. Dawson. Miss Dawson," a woman in a sharp black suit murmured, bowing her head. "The showroom is prepared for you. As requested, we are closed to the public." I felt small, even in my own heels. Adrian didn't say a word; he merely gave a short, curt nod, his hand resting firmly on the small of my back as he guided me toward the private parlor at the back. His touch was a reminder of the leash he held—even here, in this temple of feminine grace, he was the architect. The parlor was a circular room lined with mirrors that seemed to stretch into infinity. On silver racks, a dozen gowns had already been pulled—clouds of tulle, shimmering sequins, and stiff brocades. "I’ll leave you to br
My Forbidden Brother FORTY EIGHT : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The shower didn't just wash away the chlorine; it felt like it was trying to scrub the events of the day from my skin. But no matter how much soap I used, the phantom hum of the morning and the heavy, wet heat of the afternoon clung to me. I dressed with shaking fingers, choosing a soft, pale blue silk dress that felt cool and clean. It was modest, demure—exactly what the daughter of this house should wear. I sat at my vanity and brushed my hair until it shone, masking the girl who had been undone in a school bathroom and a turquoise pool. When I finished, I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. I stared at the blank cursor of my Literature essay, but the words wouldn't come. My mind was a projector, stuck on a loop of the same three scenes: the weight of Adrian’s blazer, the terrifying spike of the remote, and the way the water had rippled when I’d cried out while my father stood only feet away. *Will it ever stop?* The question felt like a physical weight in the room
My Forbidden Brother FORTY SEVEN : ADRIAN
ADRIAN The scent of chlorine always felt like a clinical lie. It was designed to sanitize, to bleach away the evidence of whatever had transpired in the water, but as I stood under the freezing spray of my own shower, it wasn't the chemical smell I was focused on. It was the phantom sensation of Olivia’s skin under my tongue—the way she had tasted of salt and desperation while our father stood less than six feet away. I leaned my forehead against the cold marble tile, letting the water hammer against the tension in my shoulders. I was playing a dangerous game. Not just with my father’s reputation or the family legacy, but with the very structure of my own self-control. I had always prided myself on being the architect of my environment, a man who moved pieces on a board with detached, icy precision. But Olivia wasn't a piece. She was a fever. A narcotic. And today, sitting her on the edge of that pool, I had realized that I was no longer just the dealer; I was the addict. I st
My Forbidden Brother THIRTEEN : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The drive to Beacon High was a blur of shifting gears and lingering fantasies. Every time I hit a bump in the road, the friction against my seat sent a treacherous jolt through me, reminding me exactly how sensitive I still was from my morning "interruption." By the time I pulled into t
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-03-17My Forbidden Brother FOURTEEN : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The ice cream parlour sat just a street away from Beacon High, tucked between a bookstore and a nail salon. It was one of those cozy places with pastel walls, fairy lights, and a bell above the door that chimed happily when we walked in—like it was congratulating us for surviving the sch
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-03-17My Forbidden Brother TWELVE : OLIVIA
OLIVIA The vibration hummed against my palm, a steady, buzzing promise of the release I was desperate for. I didn't even undress fully; I just shoved my leggings down past my hips, my breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. Every time I closed my eyes, it was Adrian I saw, his tongue darting
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-03-17My Forbidden Brother TEN : OLIVIA
OLIVIA I stared at my phone for a second longer than necessary, my thumb hovering over the screen. Adrian: How is your first day going? A simple question. Innocent. Normal. So why did my chest do that stupid little flip? I typed, deleted, then typed again. Me: It’s actually… good. I mad
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-03-17
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