“You’re a jerk. You could’ve closed the door.”

Clara’s POV

It was past midnight when my stomach finally won the war against my pride. I slipped out of bed, my bare feet padding softly against the cold wooden floor as I made my way toward the kitchen. The house was silent, cloaked in shadows, the kind that made you hyperaware of every breath, every creak of the wood beneath me.

Halfway down the hall, I stopped. Nolan’s door was ajar, just enough to spill a sliver of dim light across the hardwood floor. I should've kept walking. I should’ve ignored it and continued my search for something to eat to quiet the rumble of my stomach. But something in me—curiosity, defiance, maybe sheer madness—rooted me to the spot, holding my breath.

And then I heard it. Low, guttural sounds that twisted my insides, the kind of noise that set my heart racing. His breathing was rough and uneven, almost primal. The faint rhythm of movement punctuated the silence like a heartbeat. My heart leapt into my throat, pounding in tandem with what I desperately tried to ignore.

I told myself to turn away. To keep walking. But my gaze betrayed me; it slid through the crack in the door, helpless to resist the allure of the scene unfolding beyond it.

Nolan sat on the edge of his bed, a vibrant wash of light framing his figure, making him look almost ethereal. His head was tipped back, dark hair tousled and falling across his forehead in messy waves. Sweat glistened on his skin, illuminated against the dim light of his bedside lamp.

His hand moved slowly, deliberately over his thick length, glistening under the warm light as he worked himself into a fevered rhythm. The sight was both shocking and mesmerizing, igniting a fire deep within my belly that I had never felt before. My breath hitched at the intensity of the moment, the raw, intimate energy crackling in the air, thick and palpable.

A sound slipped from his lips, a low, guttural moan that made my skin prickle and sent warmth flooding through my cheeks. I shouldn’t be watching. I hated him—hated his arrogance, hated the way he tormented me daily. Yet here he was, completely undone, stripped bare of the smug confidence that usually cloaked him.

And I couldn’t look away.

A sharp gasp escaped me before I could stop it. “Oh God…” I breathed, and at the sound of my voice, his storm-grey eyes snapped open, locking onto mine through the gap in the door.

A slow, wicked smirk curled his lips. “Enjoying the show, stepsis?”

My heart dropped, flooding my mind with a surge of shame and confusion. The thrill of being caught made my pulse race even faster, a mix of embarrassment and intrigue sparking within me. “What—what are you doing?” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Just taking care of some business,” he replied smoothly, his expression arrogant, eyes glinting with mischief. “Looks like I have an audience, though.”

I felt sparks of irritation mixed with something I dared not acknowledge, my face flushing hot. “You’re a jerk. You could’ve closed the door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he drawled, his hand lingering where it was, a casual, comfortable action as if he had nothing to hide. “Besides, it’s not like you didn’t ask for it, Clara. You’re practically begging for attention.”

“Begging for attention? You’ve got to be kidding me,” I shot back, fighting the urge to feel flustered. “I’m not the one showing off.”

“Oh, but you are,” he teased, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “You’d make a great actress, you know? Peeping through the door like some voyeur. Tell me, does it make you excited?”

The thought of his words sent involuntary shivers down my spine. I hated him. I hated the way my body reacted when he looked at me like that, like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. “This isn’t funny, Nolan. I don’t want to play your twisted little games.”

“Oh, come on,” he countered, his voice low, almost seductive. “Don’t pretend this isn’t thrilling for you. You’re just standing there, watching. Enjoying the show. Admit it. You’re curious about what I’m doing.”

I pressed my lips together, refusing to let him know how much his boldness affected me. “I’m not curious; I’m disgusted.”

“Disgusted?” His smirk widened, that challenge in his eyes curling around me like a tightening vise. “Then why don’t you step closer? I promise I won’t bite… unless you want me to.”

God, he was insufferable. My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me, battling the waves of indignation mingling with unwanted intrigue. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, but you still looked, didn’t you?” he said, leaning back on his hands, the muscles of his arms flexing effortlessly, his gaze unwavering. “What’s it like to see me like this, without the mask? To be in the presence of the real Nolan?”

I pressed my lips together, fighting to free myself from the web he was spinning. “You think this makes you special? You’re just a—”

“A what?” he interrupted, tilting his head, feigning innocence. “A jerk? A spoiled brat? Go on. Tell me how awful I am. I’d love to hear it from you.”

“Fine! You’re a jerk!” I exclaimed, my voice rising, the heat in my cheeks morphing into full-blown anger. “A complete—”

“Surprisingly good at getting under your skin. You’re not even mad anymore, are you?”

The playful arrogance in his voice tugged at something deep and unsettling within me. Part of me craved to lash out, to tell him how much his words stung, while another part gripped onto the rawness of the moment, provoked by the tension thrumming between us.

“What is it you think you’re accomplishing by doing this?” I spat out, crossing my arms, attempting to shield myself. “Is this your way of lashing out?”

Nolan chuckled, an amused glint dancing in his eyes. “Just exploring the depth of our new family dynamic, Clara. Wouldn’t want to let you forget who your real family is.”

I pushed away from the doorframe, feeling the weight of his gaze on me as I stepped back, caught between indignation and desire. “Your family dynamic? Don’t pretend you care. You revel in making my life a living hell.”

“Oh, but I do care,” he replied, a low, sultry undertone wrapping around his words. “In fact, I think you enjoy it, too. That’s why you watched. You wanted a glimpse of the filthy side of me, just as I wanted a glimpse of your reaction.”

My heart raced, the very air around us thickening with tension. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” he shot back, eyes smoldering with playful defiance. “Or are you just afraid to admit that deep down, the two of us share a certain… connection? An unspoken understanding?”

The way he watched me, almost like he was waiting for me to make my move, unnerved me. It felt both thrilling and terrifying, the boundary between hatred and attraction becoming increasingly blurred. “You’re such an arrogant bastard,” I finally managed to say, though my voice was thicker than I intended.