Stolen By My Stepbrother, the Underworld King

(Lorei's POV)

The private room at Cattaneo's is full when Fisher stands up and taps his glass.  My mind is squealing. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…. I think he's about to propose. 

I've been thinking it all week, the reservation, the way he told me to wear the blue dress, the way his mom kept smiling at me like she knew something I didn't. My hands are actually shaking under the table right now because I think…. this is it. The love of my life is proposing.

"Everyone," Fisher says, and the whole table goes quiet, twenty of the city's most important people all looking at him. "I know a lot of you have been waiting for this."

He reaches into his jacket. Ooohhh…. my heart is going so fast I can barely breathe.

He doesn't pull out a ring. He pulls a woman up from the seat beside his mother, Camille Voss, whose family owns half the shipping routes on the east coast, and laces his fingers through hers.

The fuck?

"Camille and I got engaged last month," he says, grinning like he's announcing a promotion. "Figured this was the right room to finally say it."

For a second nobody looks at me. Then everybody looks at me and my whole body goes cold. I can't even speak. I just sit there while the table erupts into applause, while his mother hugs Camille, and clinks their glasses, toasting. 

"Fisher," I say, and my voice cracks right down the middle. "What…. what is this? We're together. We've been together for two years."

He burst into a very annoying laughter, like I'm some fucking comedian. "Lorei, come on. You didn't really think this was going anywhere, did you?" He looks around at his friends like he wants them in on the joke. "I mean, look at you. You have no family name, no money… and you're working double shifts at that little accounting firm. You were fun for a while. But this…" he gestures at Camille, at the room, at all of it. "This is my actual life. A five star life, or nothing"

I feel my face burn hot, humiliation crawling up my neck in front of everyone. Someone joins him laughing, one of Fisher's cousins, not even trying to hide it. Fucking asshole.

"Two years, Fisher," I say again, because it's the only thing my brain can hold onto right now. "You even told me you loved me two days ago. Was it all a lie?"

"I did love you." He shrugs. "But people change their minds, sweetheart. Don't make this ugly."

"Are you kidding me? You're the one making it ugly," I say, and I hate how my voice shakes.

"Actually," his mother cuts in coldly, "I think it's time you left, Lorei. This is a family celebration now." She glances at my mom, who works as her personal assistant, sitting two seats down looking like she wants to disappear into the floor. "And Diane, dear, we'll discuss your hours next week. Things might need to change around the house now that... circumstances have changed."

My stomach drops. She's not just humiliating me, she's threatening my mom's job, right here, in front of everyone, like it's a punishment for me existing.

I stand up so fast my chair scrapes loud across the floor. Every single person in that room is looking at me like I'm something they scraped off a shoe, all staring daggers into me. Fuck. I grab my bag and I walk out with my head up, but the second the door shuts behind me, I lose it completely, sobbing in the hallway where the valet can see me.

I call my best friend, Priya from the sidewalk, still crying so hard I can barely get the words out. She picks me up twenty minutes later and doesn't even ask questions, just hands me a tissue and drives.

"We are not going home," she says. "You are not sitting in your apartment tonight replaying that."

"Priya, I really don't want to…."

"Oh baby, you don't get a vote." She turns onto Fifth. "We're going to Prive. You're going to drink a shit ton of alcohol, and you're going to forget that asshole's entire face by midnight."

Prive is loud and dark and full of people all dolled up, wearing clothes that barely cover chests and bums. Priya orders us both something bright pink and pushes it into my hand the second we sit down. 

“I don't know what it's called,” she yells over the loud music. “But the bar man recommended it. Said it's a heartbreak tonic.”

“Priya, no…” I try to push it back to her, my hands still shaking. “I don't think…”

“Take it, Lorei,” she says, her voice stern. “I'm not joking.”

“Alright, alright. I say and drink it fast. Before I drop the glass, she already ordered another one.

“Go girl,” she says. “Fuck Fisher, fuck his mum, and fuck his stupid new girlfriend.”

I take it from her, repeating her words in my head. “Fuck Fisher… fuck Fisher…” Before I know it, I'm already yelling it aloud. “YEAH, FUCK FISHER!!!”

“Yes baby,” Priya yells after me, excited that she's gotten me up. “Fuck him!!”

By the sixth glass, I'm already floating. The awful tight feeling in my chest has finally loosened, replaced by something warm that makes the whole night feel far away, like it happened to someone else.

"I'm gonna go find the bathroom," Priya shouts over the music, and disappears into the crowd.

I try trailing where she disappeared to, and suddenly, my eyes land on a man leaning against the bar like he owns the entire building even though his outfit is telling me that he works here. Nobody just stands there looking that good for free.

He's wearing a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, dark hair pushed back, and a jaw that looks like it was carved for the express purpose of making women stupid. Fucking hell, he's easily the best-looking club man I've ever seen in real life. 

“Damn…” I mutter to myself. “Some fine hosts they've got here.”

I walk straight up to him. "You're really good at your job," I tell him, running a hand down his chest in in what my drunk brain considers a seductive gesture.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Yeah?"

"Best host I've ever had," I say, and I don't even know what that means, but it sounds right in the moment. "You should get a raise."

"Maybe I will." His voice is low, rough, and it does something to my whole body that Fisher's never once managed in two years. 

“You always flirt with strangers like this?” he asks.

“Only the pretty ones.”

“And how many drinks have you had?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “That's a very personal question for a man who hasn't even told me his name.”

His smile widens. “Fair point.”

For one breath, we simply look at each other. The music pounds around us, lights flickering across his face. Then I rise onto my toes and kiss him.

He kisses me back briefly before drawing away just enough to meet my eyes. The pause makes my heart stumble harder than the kiss itself.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

"My place?" he pants against my lips, and I nod, unable to form words. But I know one thing for sure, we're not making it to his place without getting a hell of a lot dirtier first.

The car ride is a blur of his hands and his mouth on my neck.  His hotel suite is a freaking palace, but I don't give a damn about the fancy shit. All I care about is the way he's looking at me like he's starving and I'm the fucking feast. He crowds me against the door, his hands gripping my thighs and lifting me up, I wrap my legs around him. 

He kisses me like he's trying to devour me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, his hands squeezing my ass. I can't get enough, I want more, I need more. He carries me to the bed, tossing me down on it, and then he's on me, his body pinning mine to the mattress.

He sits back on his heels, looking down at me with a smirk. "You're fucking gorgeous," he murmurs.

I shiver at his words, already aching for him. He reaches down, grabbing the hem of my shirt, and pulls it off in one smooth motion. I smile, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “You should get a raise for that line.”

He laughs softly and kisses me again.