All Chapters of My Mafia Stepbrother For Christmas: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

25 Chapters

11. Eat you alive

Brielle's POV Friday night found me three drinks deep and finally feeling like I could breathe again.Cassandra had dragged me to a trendy bar downtown. I'd protested at first, but the vodka had smoothed my edges, and her stories about her latest string of dating disasters actually made me laugh for the first time in days. The whole thing was getting to me and it was disturbing."So he shows up to the date wearing Crocs," Cassandra said, gesturing wildly with her martini glass. "Crocs, Bri. On a first date. To a steakhouse.""Maybe he's just confident." I took another sip of my drink, enjoying the pleasant buzz humming through my veins."Confidence is one thing. Crocs are a war crime." She paused mid-sip, her expression shifting. The amusement drained from her face as her eyes focused on something behind my shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me.""What?" I twisted in my seat.My stomach dropped.Across the room, leaning against the bar with the casual arrogance of someone who owned

12. Coldly handled

Brielle's POV I shoved against his chest hard enough to create space between us. My breath came too fast, my skin too hot everywhere he'd touched me. The bar felt suffocating, the walls pressing in."I need air."I didn't wait for his response. Didn't look back to see if he followed. I just pushed through the crowd toward the exit, weaving between bodies that felt too close, music too loud, everything too much. My hands shook as I fumbled with the door handle.The cool night air hit my flushed skin. I sucked in a breath, then another, trying to calm my racing heart and ignore the ache between my thighs that Dante had left behind.What the hell was wrong with me? He was dangerous. Obsessive. About to become my stepbrother. Every single reason to run screaming in the opposite direction.So why did every cell in my body want to go back inside and let him finish what he started?I pressed my palms against my overheated cheeks, willing myself to think clearly for five goddamn seconds. Th

13. I can't stop thinking about you

I couldn't stop thinking of Dante. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there.Dante's hands on my skin. His mouth trailing fire down my throat, lower, between my breasts, across my stomach. Those brown eyes watching me as he settled between my thighs and put his tongue exactly where I needed it most. Fuck.Dream Dante knew every sensitive spot, every place that made me gasp and arch. He took his time, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure until I was writhing against his face, fingers tangled in his hair, begging for release as I watched him fuck me with his tongue."Say my name," he commanded against my slick heat."Dante. Please.""Louder.""Dante!"I jerked awake tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, heart hammering, body pulsing with unfulfilled need. The clock read 7:47 AM.Fury replaced arousal almost immediately.This was unacceptable. I couldn't even escape him in my own goddamn dreams. He'd invaded every corner of my life and now my subconscious too, turning me into so

14. Do it

"I can't stop thinking about you. Can't stop wanting to know everything about you. Can't stop imagining all the ways I could make you feel good if you'd just let me try."His words knocked the air from my lungs. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.Then something clicked in my brain. A memory surfacing through panic and anger.The photo.My hand went to my pocket automatically, fingers closing around my phone. Halloween night flooded back—standing frozen in that hotel room, snapping a picture before I ran. Evidence. Proof of what happened.Leverage.I pulled out my phone, hands steadier than they'd been moments before. Dante's eyes tracked the movement, curiosity flickering across his features."You want to know why you need to stop?" I pulled up my photos, scrolling until I found it. "Because I have this."I turned the screen toward him. His face filled the frame, features partially obscured by the lighting but recognizable. The restraints visible. The hotel room unmistakable.His

Mom's suspicion

Brielle's POV A text came through while I was in the middle of reviewing mockups for a restaurant rebrand.Mom: Grab lunch with me? 1pm at Marcello's. My treat.I stared at the message, stomach already twisting. Mom didn't do casual lunch invitations. Everything had an agenda, a purpose, a hidden objective I wouldn't see until it was too late.But saying no would only make things worse.Me: Sure. See you there.Her response came immediately.Mom: Wear something nice, darling. It's an upscale place.Of course it was. She was on something big now.Marcello's occupied prime real estate in the financial district, all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and waitstaff who moved like people accustomed to serving the obscenely wealthy.I arrived exactly on time, wearing a cream blouse and black slacks that hopefully met Mom's standards. The hostess greeted me by name before I could introduce myself, leading me through the dining room to a corner table where Mom already sat, looking effortl

16. An invite

Brielle's POV I didn't go back to the table.Instead, I slipped out through the restaurant's side entrance, pulling my phone from my purse to text Mom some excuse about a work emergency. I couldn't sit there another second listening to her casual cruelty dressed up as maternal concern.The afternoon air hit my face. I took a cab back to my workplace, brain buzzing with too many thoughts that refused to arrange themselves into anything coherent.I tried as much as possible to calm down in the cab and the driver kept peeking at me. Did I look say now?"Get it together," I muttered to myself. My mind kept circling back to Mom's words, to the way she'd said them so matter-of-factly through out the drive. Like my inadequacy was simply an objective truth everyone understood.Had Marcus thought the same thing? Was that why he'd found his new woman so appealing—because she was polished and composed where I was messy and emotional?I pulled into the parking garage beneath my building, cuttin

17. The gala

Brielle's POV The dress Cassandra picked out was the most expensive thing I'd ever worn. Midnight blue silk that hugged every curve before flowing to the floor, with a neckline that dipped low enough to make me second-guess myself three times before leaving the apartment. She'd insisted, promising it would make me look like I belonged in rooms like these.Standing in the glittering ballroom now, surrounded by chandeliers and people wearing jewelry worth more than my entire net worth, I wasn't sure anything could make me belong here.The venue was ridiculous. All marble columns and gold accents, with floor-to-ceiling windows. A string quartet played something classical in the corner while waiters in crisp white jackets circulated with champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres I couldn't pronounce.I accepted champagne from a passing waiter mostly to have something to do with my hands.Across the ballroom, I spotted my mom holding court with a cluster of important-looking people. She wore a

18. The dance

Dante's POV The moment I saw her across the ballroom, every coherent thought left my head.Brielle stood near a marble column, champagne flute in hand, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. The dress she wore was midnight blue, clinging to curves I'd spent weeks trying—and failing—not to think about. Her blonde hair was swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck, and even from this distance I could see the nervous way she kept scanning the crowd.Looking for me. Or looking to avoid me.Either way, she was thinking about me. I just fucking knew it."Dante, what do you think?" Jerry, one of my father's business associates, gestured emphatically while discussing some construction deal I'd stopped paying attention to five minutes ago."Sounds solid," I said without looking at him. "Have your people send the contracts to my office."Jerry continued talking, oblivious to the fact that I'd checked out of the conversation completely. Francesco, standing to my left, shot me a knowi

19. Eyes on Dante

The music faded. Dante's hand lingered on my lower back for just a second too long before he released me. My skin still burned where he'd touched me, and I hated myself for it."Dinner's being served," he said quietly.I turned away without responding, trying to calm my racing pulse. The brief walk back through the crowd gave me time to rebuild the walls he'd systematically demolished on the dance floor. I focused on breathing, on schooling my expression back into something neutral.Then I reached the assigned table and my stomach dropped.Mom sat between Richard and an empty chair, laughing at something a silver-haired businessman across from her was saying. Her hand rested possessively on Richard's arm. The chair next to her was clearly meant for me.And directly across from it sat Dante.Perfect. Just perfect.I slid into my seat, avoiding eye contact with everyone. A server immediately appeared with champagne and water. I grabbed the water, throat suddenly dry."Brielle!" Mom's vo

20. I can't help it

Brielle's POV I couldn't take it anymore.When dessert arrived—some elaborate chocolate thing with gold leaf—I pushed back from the table."Excuse me," I said to no one in particular. "I need some air."Mom's eyes narrowed. "Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?""Fine. Just warm."I walked away before she could show her fake concern, weaving through tables toward the back of the ballroom. A server pointed me toward doors that led outside when I asked. The balcony was empty. Thank God.Cold night air hit my face. I gripped the iron railing, breathing deep, trying to settle the chaos spinning through my chest.The city spread out below.I had maybe two minutes of peace.Then footsteps echoed behind me.I didn't need to turn around to know who it was."You followed me," I said, staring at the skyline."Yes."At least he was honest about it.I whirled around. "You orchestrated this whole thing, didn't you? The invitation. The seating arrangements. Another manipulation to corner me some

1 2 3

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP