All Chapters of Addicted to My Stepbrother : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped into Hendrick’s. The smell of turpentine and fresh canvas hit me immediately. I’d been coming here since I was seventeen, back when art was the only thing that really made sense to me. I grabbed a basket and headed for the paint wall, running my fingers over the tubes of cadmium red while the radio played quietly in the background.I didn't hear him come in. I just noticed him there, watching me."Still buying the cheap brushes, I see."Derek's voice sounded different now. Flatter. Like whatever used to matter between us had gone stale.I didn't turn around right away. I finished reading the label on a tube of paint, set it in my basket, then looked at him.He was leaning against the shelf across from me, arms crossed, wearing that half-smile he used to think worked on me."What do you want, Derek?""Just saying hello. Can't a man say hello to his ex?”"I let out a soft laugh. "You're choosing to make it weird instead."His jaw ticked. He pu

"Julian, please!" I stumbled off the wet floor, my hands shaking as I threw myself between him and Andrew. "It isn't what you think!" Julian didn't look at me. His dark eyes stayed fixed on Andrew, unblinking. Blood dripped from his right fist, heavy drops hitting the rug with small, wet sounds. "Move, Tamara," he said softly. That low tone was worse than if he'd screamed. Andrew didn't flinch away from the railing. Instead, he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked his son in the eyes without backing down. "Watch how you speak to me, Julian. I'm still a father.” Now you remember you are, but you fucking didn't when you had your hand wrapped on her," Julian said, taking another step forward. "I raised you," Andrew said evenly, refusing to be the one who moved. "Whatever you think you saw up here, you don't get to talk to your father like that." "Get out of my way, Tamara." Julian's voice dropped lower. He pinned me against the ledge, Julian!" I shouted, turning betw

The marble pillar was cold against my shoulder blade. I pressed harder into it, trying to sink straight into the stone.The Meridian Club kept the lights low and amber. My mother sat in the corner booth, hair pinned the way she only wore it for donors and cameras, a glass of wine catching the candlelight.Across from her, Margaret Cross leaned back."You should've seen her face," Margaret said, swishing her wine. "When the transfer notice cleared. Absolutely blank."My mother's laugh was light, practiced, the one she saved for galas. "She still thinks Andrew signed it under pressure. She actually believes her stepfather has a conscience."My fingers dug into the edge of the pillar. The stone bit into my palm, and I let it sting. I needed something sharp to keep the floor from tilting away."Fifty-one percent," Margaret murmured, tasting the words. "Do you know how long I've waited to say that out loud?""Long enough to justify the work." My mother didn't blink. No hesitation in her vo

The lounge smelled like expensive leather and old money. I stood by the bar cart with my arms crossed, watching the family line up like game pieces.Andrew sat by the fireplace, staring into a glass of scotch, completely ignoring Julian. He hadn't looked at his son once since we walked in.Then Margaret swept through the double doors with a leather folder. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor with a sharp snap. Derek trailed right behind her, his thumb flying across his phone screen."Everyone's here," Margaret announced, dropping the folder onto the glass coffee table. "Good. Let's not drag this out."Julian pushed off the window frame, his jaw locked tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets."Drag what out, Mother?" Julian's voice frayed at the edges. "You've already decided how this ends.""I didn't decide anything." Margaret smoothed down her skirt, her voice chillingly calm. "The board decided. I'm just the messenger.""The board you control," Julian shot back. "Let's call it

I stayed on my knees on the cold floor of the conference room, the hard surface biting into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. David’s hand stayed locked over mine on his belt, holding me there so the people on the other side of the glass would see exactly what they were meant to see. His body blocked most of the view from the lobby, but not all of it. Julian’s palm was still pressed flat against the pane, fingers spread wide, leaving greasy smudges that caught the overhead lights.David crouched lower until his mouth was level with my ear. The smell of bourbon and cologne was thicker this close, almost choking. His voice dropped to something that wouldn’t carry past the soundproofing.“The evidence you want is with Andrew. JOHNTHORN-88. Andrew’s private vault is on the cloud mirror. Make sure you get it.”My fingers twitched under his. For a second the whole room seemed to tilt again, the same way it had when he shoved me against the glass. I kept my head down the way he wa