Chapter 6 I Hate Her

Nathan’s P.O.V.

That green-eyed girl who destroyed my life, why the fuck did she have to come in front of me again?

What was she even doing at my father’s wedding reception?

I sit alone in the dark bedroom of my hotel suite in London, clutching a half empty bottle of expensive alcohol. My eyes are bloodshot, burning with anger and agonising pain.

I take another long, burning swig straight from the bottle, but it does nothing to drown out the sudden chaos in my head.

The memories revolve in my mind like a horror movie I can't turn off.

Suddenly, I’m not a famous rockstar anymore. I’m back in high school. I’m just that same insecure, nerdy kid—fat, awkward, wearing those big, thick glasses.

I can vividly see her smiling face in front of me. I remember sitting together, my fingers gently playing with Amber’s short, blonde hair. I remember the sound of her musical laugh as she playfully snatched the glasses off my face, sliding them onto her own nose and giggling at how ridiculous she looked. We used to dance together in my room, sharing late-night secrets, having the kind of pure, effortless fun I haven't felt a single second since the day she vanished.

With a sudden fury, I slam the bottle against the wall. It shatters into a thousand pieces, and shards of glass and dark liquid rain down onto the floor.

"Why did you come back?" I scream into the empty suite, my voice cracking with raw emotion. "Why did you come back when you left me all alone?”

Because of her, I faced so much brutal humiliation back then. The entire school laughed at me when she dropped out of my life without a trace. Everyone knew how desperately I was wrapped around her little finger.

I fucking loved you, Amber. I gave you every single piece of my pathetic heart. But now? Now I fucking hate you.

She didn't just walk away. She completely erased herself. No note, no explanation, no final fight. Just an empty seat next to me and a school full of people whispering and laughing behind my back.

Did I mean that little to her?

Was our laughter fake?

Was every single touch a lie?

I used to scream those questions into the dark when the heartbreak was fresh. Now, those questions have rotted into pure hatred.

You could have just told me to my face. You could have just said that you didn’t love me, and it would have hurt, but at least I would have known. Instead, you just left.

You packed up, disappeared, and left me bleeding in the dirt without a single word of explanation. I don't want your excuses anymore. I just want to forget you.

When I saw her standing there at the reception, my entire body just froze. God... it kills me to admit it, but she looked so beautiful. Even more gorgeous than she did back then. It hurts so much.

It physically aches in my chest just to look at her perfect features and realise she’s a grown woman now.

For years, I starved myself, I spent hours at the gym, and I poured all my heartbreak into my music until I became the man I am today, all just to outrun the boy she abandoned. But one look into those green eyes, and I felt like that pathetic, broken teenager all over again.

I never got my answer as to why you did this to me. And you know what? Now I don't want to know it. I fucking don't care why you did it anymore. It doesn't matter. I just want to forget about you. That’s why I built a whole new life so I could forget your fucking name.

I fucking hate her. I hate what she did to me. But why the hell won't she leave my mind? Why is her face still burned into the back of my eyelids?

I hope someone just completely erases her from my memories.

Because of her, I never got real happiness in my life. Every song I write, every sold-out stadium I play, it all feels empty.

She broke me so deeply that the wounds never properly closed. I never healed from that heartbreak. I've just been masking it with fame and liquor.

Suddenly, the buzz of my phone pulls me out of my dark thoughts. I blink past the blur in my eyes and check the caller ID.

Hunter

I stare at my brother's name blinking on the screen as the phone vibrates against my palm.

I can’t answer his call. I can't. He knows me too well. The second I pick up, he will understand just by listening to the tone of my voice that something is completely wrong.

And I really, really don’t want to bother him because of my pathetic problems anymore.

He already bothers a lot about me. He handles the family, the business, and he's always looking out for my messy life. But this time, I have to handle this storm alone.

I let the call go to voicemail and text him with my shaking thumbs.

Nathan: I’m busy with the practice. I’ll call you later.

I toss the phone face down onto the mattress, completely shutting out the rest of the world.

I grab a bottle of liquor from the nightstand, twist the cap off, and tilt it back. I drink more and more, swallowing the burning liquid until my mind finally starts to go numb.

Eventually, the alcohol pulls me under, and I doze off into a dark, dreamless sleep on the edge of the bed, still suffocating in my own hatred.

***

Hunter’s P.O.V.

The next night, I stand on the balcony of my master bedroom. As I look down, my eyes automatically lock onto a familiar figure wandering through the poolside area below.

Why the hell can't she just stay in her bedroom?

Every time I look out a window, there she is, existing in my space, testing my patience, and driving me insane.

The memory of how she felt against me two days ago, how she whimpered when I pinched her nipple and how her heat felt right before I was forced to pull away, is still etched in my mind.

I can’t control myself around her anymore. The intense hunger is twisting in my gut, and I need to get her out of my system.

And there is only one way to do that.

I have to fuck her.

I need to break her, claim her, and take every single thing I want until the desperate craving finally burns itself out.

Who cares if she is my stepsister?

What I want, I get.

No one dictates the rules to me in my own home, and she isn't an exception just because our parents got married.

But as I watch her tiny body move beneath the moonlight, a thought crosses my mind.

She looks so small. So delicate. She doesn’t look like someone who can actually take what I give. My punishments are cruel, and my pleasure is entirely unforgiving.

If I take her roughly from behind, if I use my belt and my hands the way I treat every other woman who enters my office cabin, she might just break into a million pieces.

But why do I care?

I clench my jaw, slamming my hands against the stone railing.

When did I start caring about a woman’s well-being? Since when do I give a shit whether they can handle my cruelty? Women just break hearts, and they deserve to be treated like shit.

Amber isn’t different.

I take a deep breath, watching her.

The dick pulsing in my trousers is unbearable.

I can't live like a prisoner to my own desires for the next two months. I need to take this woman out of my system as soon as possible, and once I finally have her shaking and screaming beneath me, I’ll be back in absolute control.