TRAPPED IN THEIR BED: A TABOO SECRET

"This marriage is happening! Victor and his sons will be here soon, and you will behave. No excuses."

My mother's voice raged.

"And if I refuse?"

Her jaw tightened. "Excuse me?"

I didn't flinch. "I said, what if I refuse to play happy family with that lover of yours and the three strangers he's bringing into our house?"

"They're not strangers. They're going to be your stepbrothers—"

"I don't want them to be anything to me. I want no stepbrothers or stepfather."

"Laila! If you insist on doing as you like, then you'll find out how serious I am about protecting this new start. I must marry Victor, and that's final!"

She snapped and walked out of the room angrily.

At this point, it's clear she doesn't care about my feelings. Fine. Neither will I care about hers.

I am not going to let this marriage happen.

Never.

Just seconds later, two black SUVs glided into our driveway. Then I heard the front door open, followed by the sharp click of my mother's heels as she hurried outside to greet them.

Curiosity dragged me to the window.

I pressed my palm against the cold glass and watched.

The low rumble of the car engines vibrated through the floorboards.

A middle-aged man stepped out first.

Victor Sanchez.

He was taller than I remembered, broader in the shoulders—the kind of man who commanded attention without trying. His dark hair was swept back, threaded with silver at the temples that only made him look more powerful. A neatly trimmed beard framed his strong jaw. When he smiled at my mother, his warm blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

Mother said something to him as he pulled her into a tight hug, his hand sliding possessively down to grip her ass like he had every right.

This was the man who had been in the car with my father the night he died.

Police called it an accident.

Victor walked away without a scratch. Eight months later, he was engaged to my mother.

How lovely.

The doors of the second SUV opened, and my stomach tightened into a hard knot.

Three men stepped out.

The first two were cut from the same dangerous mold as their father: tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered, and unfairly handsome. One had a thin scar slicing through his left eyebrow, turning an otherwise perfect face into something sharp and menacing. The other had tattoos peeking from the open collar of his shirt in dark patterns that disappeared beneath the fabric like secrets.

The third was different.

He looked much younger than the other two. Leaner, with curly blond hair falling slightly over his forehead and wire-rimmed glasses perched on a straight nose. He gave off a nerd vibe.

When his gaze lifted toward the house, those pale blue eyes locked directly onto the window where I stood.

My heart skipped a beat.

All three of them looked like trouble wrapped in expensive clothes—the kind of men who could ruin a woman slowly and leave her begging for more.

This morning, during the heated argument about the sudden engagement, my mother had dropped her latest bomb: Victor and his sons would be staying with us until the wedding.

"Bonding time," she'd called it with a bright smile, as if forcing four strangers under one roof would magically fix everything.

She knew I'd never agree to move into Victor's house, so she'd brought the wolves to the sheep instead.

"Laila! They're here—come say hello!" Her voice echoed from downstairs.

I rolled my eyes and turned to the full-length mirror in my bedroom, my heart hammering with a dangerous cocktail of fury and reckless thrill.

If she wanted a performance, I'd give her one that would set this entire sham of an engagement on fire.

I stripped off my clothes and slipped into the shortest nightie I owned.

The pale pink silk clung to my curves, the neckline plunging so low my breasts threatened to spill out. The hem barely skimmed the tops of my thighs. One wrong move, and it would flash the full curve of my ass, exposing my bare cheeks.

I tousled my golden-blonde hair until it looked like a wild, sexy mess, then applied my gloss.

For a second, I hesitated, biting my lower lip as I stared at my reflection.

My decision was reckless—maybe even stupid.

But it was the perfect first impression I wanted to leave.

"Laila!" my mother called again, sharper this time.

"I'm coming!" I shouted back.

One last glance in the mirror. I blew a kiss at my reflection, then headed downstairs.