บททั้งหมดของ CLAIM ME, STEP-BROTHER. : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Matteo’s POVGala crowds to me, always pretended to be civilized with the majority masked with their usual performances. And tonight was just about to be one of those nights..Crystal glasses, rehearsed laughter, polite conversation layered over cold eyes and harsh intentions. Everyone watched everyone. Everyone assessed value, power, lineage, and proximity.I stood near the center of the room, engaged in conversation I’d had a hundred times before, my face composed, posture relaxed as usual. To anyone watching, I was exactly where I belonged.What they didn’t see was how often my attention drifted.Zara stood a few feet away, near one of the marble pillars, fingers wrapped around the stem of a glass she hadn’t touched. She looked calm. Almost too calm for a smart mouth.Her skin looked pale under the lights, soft in a way that didn’t belong in rooms like this. Brunette hair fell neatly around her shoulders, too perfect to be accidental, too effortless to be planned.And her eyes? The

Zara’s POVThe next day, I woke up to the annoying scene from last night’s drama at the gala swirling repeatedly in my mind.The thought of Matteo’s grip on my skin clung to me, as it had somehow branded itself there. Not the explosive kind, the kind that sits heavy in your chest and makes everything feel dull and irritating.My head throbbed faintly, the memory of last night still clinging to me like a bad taste I couldn’t rinse out. Matteo’s voice, his hands, and the way the door had closed behind him like a final verdict.I lay there staring at the ceiling, with my jaw tight, breathing so slowly like I was afraid one wrong inhale might drag me right back into it.The marble floors, the stares, even the humiliation. The way he’d carried me like I weighed nothing, like I didn’t get a say.I pushed myself out of bed, every movement stiff, and didn’t bother looking at my phone. I didn’t want messages. I didn’t want apologies. And I definitely didn’t want explanations that would somehow

Matteo’s POVThe problem wasn’t that I remembered her. It was that I couldn’t stop.I’d dealt with blood on my hands, betrayals at my table, and men who smiled while plotting my death. I’d trained myself to compartmentalize, including desire. One night meant one night. That had always been the rule. Clean. Contained and forgotten by morning.Zara hadn’t followed the rule.She shouldn’t have been anything more than a blur, dim lights, heat, impulse. Instead, she lingered. In the pauses between meetings. In the quiet moments before sleep. In the brief second before I answered questions that mattered.It pissed me off.I sat in my study, files spread neatly across the desk, my attention fixed on none of them. The numbers swam uselessly. I’d reread the same paragraph three times without absorbing a word.Her face surfaced again. Not the way she’d looked beneath the lights but afterward. Awake. Quiet. Watching me like she was memorizing something she didn’t intend to keep.I shut the folde

Zara’s POVThe ride back to the mansion was nothing but complete silence in the car, and nothing but the usual chaos in my mind.The buildings around blurred past the window, buildings melting into one another as Marco drove with his usual precision.I stared outside without really seeing anything, my reflection faint in the glass. My thoughts felt loud, clashing into one another, each one heavier than the last.I reached for my phone before I could even stop myself. Dialed my Mum’s contact. It rang twice before she answered.“Zara, baby,” her voice came through warm and usual, and something in my chest tightened immediately.“Hi, Mum,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt.“How are you? How’s school? Italy treating you well now?” she asked, the questions tumbling out one after the other.I let out a slow breath. “It’s… fine, plus it’s only been a couple of days Mum and school is fine.”There was a pause on her end. The kind that told me she didn’t believe me.“And l

Zara’s POVI didn’t stop walking until I was safely away from that corridor.My pulse hammered in my ears as I stormed down the hall, my hands clenched so tightly at my sides my nails bit into my palms. I didn’t look back. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate, of seeing how shaken I actually was.Anger carried me forward, alongside the humiliation I felt from what had just happened.The way he had pinned me to the wall which felt cold against my back. His body leaning too close, his voice low and commanding like I was something he could corner and control all at once. Almost like I didn’t have a choice.I pushed through my bedroom door and slammed it shut so hard the walls rattled as the sound echoed loud enough for one down the hallway to hear.I leaned my forehead against the door for a moment, breathing hard. My chest rose and fell too fast, my heart still racing as I’d just run from something dangerous, which, I realized bitterly, I had.“Asshole,” I mutter