All Chapters of Forbidden By Her Mafia Stepbrother : Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

Viola didn't remember falling asleep.The low rumble of the SUV on the winding mountain roads had lulled her into a heavy, dreamless exhaustion. When her eyes fluttered open, bright, pale sunlight was cutting across her face.She blinked against the glare, her mind foggy. The car was gone.Instead, she felt the smooth, rhythmic sway of someone walking, and the solid heat of a broad chest beneath her cheek. A heavy arm was hooked securely beneath her knees, another supporting her back.Viola stiffened, her breath hitching.She looked up. Sebastian’s sharp jawline was right above her, his dark hair ruffled slightly by the tarmac wind. Behind him, the roar of twin jet engines filled the air.They were crossing a private runway, heading straight toward the metal stairs of a sleek, dark-painted private jet.Panic cleared the fog from her head in an instant."Put me down," she whispered, her hands pushing flat against

Viola gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage, his tongue sliding deep inside, tasting her with a fierce, possessive hunger that stole the air right out of her lungs. His hand left the window and slid into her dark hair, his thick fingers tangling into her waves, holding her head firmly in place as he tilted her mouth to deepen the angle.A muffled, broken whimper caught in her throat. Her mind screamed at her to fight. She told her hands to push him away, to hit his chest, to bite his lip. But the moment his heat wrapped around her, her traitorous body betrayed her. Her fingers curled into the fine wool of his jacket. The overwhelming familiarity of his touch sent a hot, liquid ache straight through her blood, pulling her under until her head spun.She kissed him back for three breathless, feverish seconds, surrendering to the madness.Then reality hit her like a bucket of ice water.He doesn't love you. You are nothing to him.

The words settled into her chest, soft and terrifying.I care about you.Coming from a man who had sworn he was made of ice, the words felt like a lifeline thrown into deep water. Viola’s defenses—the cold wall she had spent days building—crumbled just a fraction. She looked at his dark lashes resting against his cheeks, feeling the raw, heavy vulnerability in the way he held her face.She wasn't made of stone. She had spent her entire life begging for someone to care, someone to see her.Her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet between them."Do my…Do my feelings even matter to you, Sebastian?" Sebastian stayed motionless, his forehead resting against hers, his warm breath fanning across her parted lips.The silence stretched between them for a long, fragile moment.Then his mouth moved against her skin, his answer so low, so quiet, it was almost swallowed by the drone of the aircraft:

Viola blinked, a lump forming in her throat. In all her life, no woman had ever looked at her with such effortless, unearned kindness."Thank you... it's nice to meet you, Aria," Viola whispered, a faint, shy smile touching her lips.Damian looked at her, offering a polite, respectful nod. "Welcome to New York, Viola.""Thank you, Mr. Cross," Viola said softly."Damian is fine," he corrected with a faint smile."Alright, let's get off this freezing asphalt," Damian said, glancing toward the line of idling cars. "We have the convoy ready. Are you sure you won't stay out at the estate with us, Bash? Aria had the guest rooms prepared.""I prefer my own space in the city," Sebastian said evenly. Aria sighed, shaking her head. "Stubborn as always. But fine. We'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tonight."After a few brief goodbyes, Damian guided Aria toward their vehicle.Sebastian guided Viola into the thi

By dusk, the garden had transformed into a glowing, intimate reception.Strings of warm fairy lights hung between the old oak trees, reflecting off crystal glasses and silver trays. Waiters moved through the small gathering of close friends, pouring champagne, while a slow, lively jazz tune drifted from a trio of musicians near the pavilion.Viola stood near the low stone balustrade of the terrace, holding a glass of sparkling water, watching Aria dance with Damian on the small wooden floor.Aria looked completely happy, her face glowing under the soft lights, completely safe in her husband's embrace. Across the lawn, their one-year-old daughter, Ariella, was giggling on the lap of a dark-haired man in a gray suit, her small hands tugging happily on his tie.A soft, wistful ache tightened in Viola’s chest.She had spent twenty-one years surrounded by cruelty and transactional coldness. To see two people hold each other with such effortless, unyielding devotion felt like looking into a