Chapter 4

I locked my bedroom door and immediately leaned against the heavy wood, letting out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since I walked through the front gates.

My new room was ridiculous. It was massive, decorated in soft creams and golds, with a four-poster bed that looked like it belonged in a French castle.

But all I could see was the heavy oak door, and all I could hear was Arthur’s voice echoing in my head. *You belong to me.*

My skin was still crawling from the way he’d gripped my neck, a terrifying mix of dread and a heavy, confusing heat pooling low in my stomach.

I needed to get out of my conservative clothes. The thick turtleneck was suffocating me.

I stripped off the sweater and the long skirt, tossing them onto a velvet chair, and dug through my suitcase.

The house was heavily climate-controlled, so I pulled out a simple, ribbed-knit midi dress. It was a deep burgundy, with a cowl neck that draped softly over my heavy breasts and a skirt that clung desperately to my thick thighs and the soft curve of my hips.

I wasn’t trying to be provocative, but I knew exactly how the fabric looked against my plus-size frame. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I just needed a glass of ice water before I had to face Arthur at dinner.

I slipped out of my room and started wandering the second-floor hallway, looking for the grand staircase.

The mansion was a maze of identical cream-colored walls and abstract art.

I turned a corner, my eyes scanning the paintings, and practically slammed into a solid wall of muscle.

"Whoa, careful there."

A large hand caught my arm, steadying me, and another hand slid to the small of my bare back to keep me from stumbling.

The touch was warm, heavy, and sent a sudden, sharp jolt of electricity straight down to my toes.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped, stepping back quickly. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's fine. This house is a maze if you don't know the layout," a smooth, charming voice replied.

I looked up, and my breath hitched.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained against the fabric of a crisp, white dress shirt.

The top three buttons were undone, revealing a glimpse of a tanned chest, and the sleeves were rolled up to his forearms.

He was clean-shaven, with perfectly styled dark hair and striking, pale blue eyes.

He looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a corporate magazine. The golden boy.

But it was the way he was looking at me that made my pulse kick into overdrive.

His eyes weren't just politely taking in my face.

They were dragging slowly down the drape of my cowl neck, lingering on the heavy swell of my cleavage, before dropping to the tight knit fabric hugging my waist and thighs. It was a slow, deliberate appraisal.

A hungry, calculating stare that made my skin prickle.

"You must be Roxy," he said, his lips curving into a polite, devastatingly handsome smile. "I'm Leo. Arthur's son."

"Right. Leo," I breathed out, my brain scrambling to catch up. "It's nice to meet you. I was just looking for the kitchen."

"Let me show you," he offered, his voice dripping with casual charm. He didn't step away, though.

His hand was still resting on the small of my back, his long fingers splayed against the thin fabric of my dress, right over my bare skin where the back dipped low. The heat of his palm was searing.

"Thank you," I muttered, starting to walk.

He fell into step beside me, his hand guiding me gently. "My father told us you were moving in today. He’s been... looking forward to it."

The way he said *looking forward to it* made my stomach twist. "Yeah. He gave me quite the welcome."

Leo let out a soft, dark chuckle. The sound vibrated in the quiet hallway.

"Arthur is a man who knows exactly what he wants, and he always takes it. You're very beautiful, Roxy. I can see why he was so eager to sign those papers."

My cheeks burned. I wasn't used to men being this blunt, especially not my new step-brother. "Thanks. I think."

We reached the grand staircase, and he guided me down.

Every time his hand shifted on my back, his thumb would brush against my spine, a subtle, maddening friction that made my thighs clench together.

There was something deeply familiar about the weight of his touch.

The way his body angled toward mine, the heavy, suffocating gravity he gave off, the way his eyes tracked every jiggle of my curves as we walked.

It felt like a phantom echo of the tattooed biker from the club last night.

I shook my head slightly, trying to clear the thought. It was ridiculous.

The guy at the club was a rough, leather-clad enforcer who smelled like smoke and whiskey. Leo Sterling was a polished, blue-eyed CEO who smelled like expensive cedar and mint. They were nothing alike.

It was just the stress of the house getting to me.

We reached the bottom of the stairs, and the smell of roasted garlic and expensive wine drifted from the dining room. Leo stopped just before the double doors, his hand sliding from my back to gently grip my elbow.

He leaned down, his mouth hovering just inches from my ear. The charming, golden-boy smile dropped from his face, replaced by something dark and entirely predatory.

"He told you that you belong to him, didn't he?" Leo whispered, his voice so low it was barely a breath.

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs. I turned my head to look at him, my eyes wide. "How did you—"

"Arthur always marks his territory before he even touches it," Leo interrupted, his pale blue eyes locking onto mine, swirling with a twisted, possessive amusement.

He reached up, his knuckles lightly brushing the sensitive skin of my jaw.

"But don't worry, sweetheart. I'm going to enjoy watching him try to keep you all to himself."

Before I could process the sheer, taboo insanity of what he just said, he pushed the dining room doors open, his charming smile snapping back into place like a mask.

"Father," Leo called out, his voice bright and polite. "I found her."