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Finally, You
Fecha de publicación:
2026-10-20 23:56:01
Último capítulo
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession A Wedding Worth Saving
Rosalie’s POVThe bride arrived forty minutes late, already crying and clutching a veil that had somehow acquired a grass stain despite there being no grass anywhere between her car and the Aurelia’s front entrance. Theo took one look at her, then turned to me with the horrified delight of a man who had just realized his entire evening was about to become a story he’d tell for years.I’d almost called in sick that morning. I was exhausted after a week that had involved Dad’s office, a confession I still hadn’t fully processed, and the increasingly complicated situation with Priya that I’d been trying not to think about during business hours. But standing in the middle of the Aurelia’s chaotic lobby, watching a stranger’s wedding day threaten to fall apart, I found myself grateful to have a problem that didn’t involve my own life.“Okay,” Theo murmured, keeping his voice low enough for only Ivy and me to hear. “Someone needs to explain how a woman gets a grass stain on formal headwear
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession Want My Stepsister
Roman’s POVMy father thinks I’m distracted by stress.He said as much over breakfast three days ago. Since then, six more times and he’s been switching his tone from almost angry to completely calm whenever he talks about it.I’d been staring at the same email for five minutes without absorbing a word, and he noticed. I let him believe whatever explanation he’d settled on, as I have with most people lately. The truth has become a luxury I can no longer afford to hand out carelessly, not even to the man whose company I’m putting at risk with every decision I make.I let my father believe it, just as I let Marcus believe. It’s a convenient, half-true explanation that spares them the truth: I cannot stop wanting my own stepsister, and I have no idea how to stop without hurting everyone I’m supposed to protect. How I’m supposed to happily want my stepsister, and not put everything in my whole life in jeopardy.I told Rosalie as much, two days ago, in my office, when I’d run out of ways t
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession He’s My Stepbrother
Dad’s office smelled of old leather and expensive restraint. I had been inside exactly four times before, and none of those visits had left me with particularly pleasant memories.I arrived twenty minutes early because I couldn’t sit still in my apartment any longer. For most of that time, I paced the hallway outside his assistant’s desk, trying to prepare myself for whatever was waiting for me. Every attempt at keeping calm fell apart when his assistant finally waved me inside.The office looked exactly as I remembered it: dark wood, framed commendations, and a view of the city that made anyone standing inside feel insignificant. I suspected that was deliberate. I had spent much of my life being summoned into rooms like this, first by teachers, then by landlords, and eventually by men like Nathaniel Grimwood, who understood the advantage of sitting behind a desk large enough to make a visitor feel the distance between them. Even after all these years, walking towards a desk like his
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession My Apartment
After moving out, I made one rule for myself: nothing from the Grimwood house was allowed through my front door if I could help it.It had taken two months for the apartment to stop feeling temporary and start feeling like home. At first, boxes had filled every corner, most of them still unopened. Gradually, I unpacked what I needed and forgot about the rest. Eventually, I threw some of it away when I realized I hadn’t missed anything inside. I had learned which floorboard near the kitchen creaked loudly enough to wake me if I stepped on it at midnight. I’d also discovered that my upstairs neighbor practiced the trumpet badly every Tuesday evening. Somehow, I’d grown fond of the muffled, off-key music drifting through the ceiling.It was a small rule, more symbolic than practical, but I stuck to it because there were so few things in my life I could still control. I didn’t want the Grimwood house following me into my new home, reminding me of everything I’d left behind. Still, I hadn’
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession We’re Terrible At This
We heard the cart before we heard the knock, its wheels squeaking against the floor somewhere down the hallway. Both of us went rigid at the same instant, scrambling for our clothes with the graceless panic of two people who had entirely forgotten that an office building after hours still occasionally required actual cleaning.Only seconds earlier, I’d been lying against his chest, both of us still catching our breath, wrapped in the loose-limbed, unguarded quiet that comes after finally saying something you’ve spent years too afraid to admit. The squeak of wheels shattered that quiet instantly, jolting us back to the fact that being reckless and being private were not the same thing.“Hide,” Roman hissed, already yanking his shirt over his head. He fumbled with his buttons, fastening them in all the wrong holes.“Where exactly do you suggest I hide in an office with glass walls on two sides?”He had no answer for that, and neither did I. We were still frantically reassembling ourselv
Wrong Girl, Right Bed: My Stepbrother’s obsession Finally, You
I told him in his office after hours, with the building empty except for a security guard three floors down who had stopped actually watching the monitors around nine.He went very quiet when I finished, staring at the photo Ivy had sent me, Julian’s associate frozen mid-conversation with a woman who had apparently decided to sell both of us out for reasons I still did not understand.“Of course,” he said finally, his voice flat with an exhaustion that went beyond simple tiredness. “Of course he’s building a file. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone else in my life is either lying to someone or being lied to. It would be strange if Julian Cross wasn’t quietly assembling a weapon somewhere in the background.”“Roman.”“I’m fine.”He was not fine. He set his phone down on the desk with exaggerated care, like a man who did not trust his own hands not to throw it across the room if he moved too quickly. The lamp threw half his face into shadow. His tie was already loosened, and I had been trying, f
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