FATEBOUND: Mated to my step-brother
Michael handed me a can of beer.
“You didn’t reply to my texts,” Tiffany said, looking up at me with a small pout. “Are we good?”
“Yeah,” I said simply, taking the beer.
And then it hit me.
Her scent.
Soft. Sweet. Addictive.
My neck snapped toward the crowd before I even realized what I was doing.
And there she was.
Gianna.
She looked unreal. Even in a room full of people, she stood out like a flame in the dark — white top, dark jeans, her hair in a bun, a faint flush on her cheeks. She was dancing, her hips moving lazily, her head tilted back with a small smile.
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