บททั้งหมดของ CLAIM ME, STEP-BROTHER. : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Matteo’s POVI was in the study hours later after the scene at the warehouse when the gate alarm chimed.An arrival I presumed unscheduled but I didn’t look up immediately. “Who is it?” I asked Marco through the internal line.“Female,” he said after a pause. “Young. Claims to know Miss Zara.”And my pen stilled.“I don’t entertain unannounced guests.”“She says her name is Sofia.”The name registered instantly. Remembering her. Zara’s shadow on campus. The loud persistent one.I exhaled sharply. “Let her in.”And then a few minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The front doors opened, and Sofia practically stumbled inside, hair slightly disheveled, eyes wide with agitation.She stopped short when she saw me and for a moment, her confidence faltered.“Hello Mr Matteo,” Sofia said, breaking the silence between us.I didn’t answer her damn gree

Zara’s POVEverything went silent when he stepped forward. Not even the music. Not the crowd.But everything inside me.Matteo’s eyes locked on mine, looking so dark and furious. With an expression so cold I could tell that I was in trouble.The girl I’d been fighting slowly backed away like she suddenly remembered survival instincts.“Zara.”My name left his mouth instantly, so low and obviously harsh.I lifted my chin stubbornly, shoving back the fear I felt from just looking into his eyes. “What?”He didn’t answer, instead he grabbed my wrist, firmly and then pulled me out of the club.“You’re coming with me.”“I’m not—”“Yes. You are.”I tried to pull away, but alcohol made my limbs slow and dramatic instead of coordinated.“Don’t make a scene,” he muttered through clenched teeth.“I wasn’t the one who started it,” I shot back.“Yo

Zara’s POVPain.That was the first thing I felt when consciousness returned the next morning. It wasn't even the usual emotional pain or the heartbreak.Just pure, physical suffering.My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to my skull and decided rhythm practice was necessary. My throat felt dry, my limbs heavy, and the sunlight sneaking through my curtains was aggressively offensive.I groaned, dragging the pillow over my face.“Never again,” I muttered hoarsely as the memory of last night crept back slowly into my head. The music, flashing lights, too many drinks, Matteo’s furious face, and instantly my eyes snapped open.Matteo. Oh, God!.Heat rushed into my cheeks despite the hangover and I remembered being shoved into his car. Remembered arguing. Remembered—I squeezed my eyes shut again.“Don’t think about it.”Which apparently was a bad idea, a very bad idea. I sat up too quickly. Instant regret flooded my veins as the room spun violently.“Jesus I kissed him last ni

Zara’s POVMy bedroom felt too quiet when I walked in and this time it wasn’t even the peaceful kind of quiet.The kind that presses against your ears and forces you to hear every single thought you’re trying to avoid.I sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at the wall, replaying the conversation downstairs for what had to be the hundredth time.One month privately. Pretend to be good siblings. I groaned and dropped backward onto the mattress.“Great,” I muttered to the ceiling. “Just great.”Of all the ridiculous arrangements Matteo Ferraro could have proposed, this one was probably the worst.The fact that I was going to have to pretend and smile around him. Acting like we didn’t constantly argue. Acting like he didn’t drive me insane. Acting like the tension between us didn’t feel like a live wire waiting to spark.I dragged a pillow over my face and screamed into it.One month. Just one month.

Zara’s POVMy competitive instincts flared immediately and I snapped back without any hesitation.“I’m not scared.”But then he shrugged, almost as if I needed to convince him that I wasn’t scared, as he’d said.“Then play.” He added.I stood slowly.“Fine.”Someone nearby tossed me a racket and for a split second it felt familiar in my hand. Almost too comfortable like old times. Like muscle memory.I walked onto the court and Matteo stood on the opposite side. His expression was calm. Almost amused.“Ready?” he asked.“Try not to cry when you lose,” I said sweetly.He smirked slightly without any response and then the game started.First serve—Matteo. The ball shot across the court like a bullet. I barely even returned it and the rally lasted longer than expected.Just then I scored. A few surprised murmurs came from the sidelines. And Matteo’s eyes sharpe