All Chapters of The Scandalous Step Siblings: First Enemies, Then Lovers : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Anya’s~The ride back to the Carlyle was silent, but it wasn't the empty silence from before. It was a pressure cooker.Kai sat in the corner of the Maybach, his tuxedo jacket discarded on the seat between us. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and the sight of his forearms—strong, corded with muscle, and smeared with the dried, copper-colored remains of his blood made my throat tight. He looked like a soldier coming back from a war he’d lost.Ethan was in the front, his head buried in his phone, his thumbs clicking away with a frantic energy that set my teeth on edge.He was busy spinning the disaster to the press, probably blaming the acoustics or a sudden flare-up of Kai’s injury. He didn't look back at us once.I kept my hand on the note in my pocket. Ask Ethan who was in the garage. I looked at the back of Ethan’s neck. He looked so professional. So loyal. But the note was a splinter in my mind, and every time the car hit a bump, the splinter went deeper.When the e

Anya’s POVThe private jet was a sleek, silver bullet cutting through the clouds toward Chicago.Inside, the cabin was a masterclass in claustrophobic luxury, cream leather seats, polished walnut tables, and a silence so thick you could choke on it.Ethan was in the cockpit lounge, supposedly arguing with promoters over the phone, leaving me and Kai alone in the main cabin.Kai wasn't sitting in one of the sprawling armchairs. He was sprawled on the long, velvet-upholstered divan at the back of the plane, his long legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling. He’d traded his suit for a black cashmere sweater that made him look softer, though the way his jaw was set told a different story.I was sitting across from him, trying to focus on my laptop, but the steady hum of the engines was doing nothing to drown out the sound of his breathing. Or the way my own skin felt too tight for my body."Stop it," Kai said, his voice cutting through the hum.I didn't look up from the screen. "Stop wh

Anya’s POVThe morning air in Chicago was sharp, a biting wind off the lake that rattled the heavy panes of the Peninsula. I hadn't slept.Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the cold vibration of the piano keys against my spine and the searing heat of Kai’s hands on my waist.I was in the living area of the suite, nursing a cup of black coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago.I was dressed in a charcoal pencil skirt and a silk blouse—my armor. I needed to feel like the Critic again, not the woman who had almost come apart on a piano bench.The door to the master bedroom opened.Kai walked out, and the room seemed to shrink. He was already dressed for the press conference in a bespoke navy suit that fit him like a second skin. His hair was pushed back, but a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, giving him that "tortured genius" look that drove the public mad.He didn't look at me. He walked straight to the sideboard, his movements tight and controlled. The stitches on

Anya’s POVThe private terminal in Chicago was a desolate stretch of asphalt and biting wind. By the time we reached the hangar, the sky had bruised into a deep, sickly purple. Rain smeared against the windows of the SUV, blurring the world into streaks of grey and neon.Inside the car, the silence was alive. Kai sat in the far corner of the leather seat, his shadow stretching long and jagged across the floorboards. He stared at his bandaged hand, his thumb tracing the line where the stitches met his skin. He hadn’t spoken since the press conference. The Wounded Hero mask remained firmly in place, but I could see the cracks… the way his pulse hammered in his throat, the way his shoulders stayed locked in a permanent state of war.“The flight to Nashville is short,” Ethan said from the front seat, his voice cutting through the quiet. He was focused on his tablet, his face lit by the cold blue glow. “We have a private dinner with the symphony board tonight. Formal dress code. Anya, I’ve

Anya’s POVThe paper felt like ice against my palms. I didn't look down at the folder, because I couldn't take my eyes off the man standing in the doorway. Kai looked like he’d been through a physical brawl. The sharp, expensive lines of his suit were ruined, his shirt collar torn open, and that bruise on his jaw was darkening by the second, a purple stain against his pale skin."Who hit you?" The question came out before I could stop it, my voice thin and brittle.Kai didn't answer. He didn't even seem to hear me. He stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with a heavy thud that echoed in the hollow space of my chest. He walked toward me, not with the predatory grace he usually carried, but with a heavy, exhausted stagger."Put it back, Anya," he said. It wasn't a command. It was a plea, hushed and ragged."The London report, Kai. Ten years ago." I held the folder tighter, the edges crinkling under my grip. "The second car. You were the driver. Not your father. Not so