Rule Number One: Kissing Your Stepbrother Again Will Ruin You

Elowen

It had to be a dream.

Please tell me it’s a dream.

In fact, a nightmare.

Whoever said “be careful what you wish for” deserved a Nobel Prize.

There was a time in my life when I wanted a sibling. You know, someone to talk to.

Someone to annoy. Someone to protect me from our emotionally constipated parents.

Apparently, the universe heard that prayer and said: Sure, Elowen. But let’s make him the most arrogant, insufferable, emotionally unavailable jerk you’ve ever met.

And because the universe clearly enjoys chaos…

Here he is, standing before me.

I surely don’t recall asking for a six-foot-something menace with sinful blue eyes, an ego the size of a planet, and a talent for humiliating me in under five minutes. Nor did I ask for someone who has seen me half naked and shattered my pride in a single night.

Honestly, if this was karma, I’d like to know what crime I committed.

A sigh escaped my lips. I closed my eyes briefly, trying not to show my emotions.

When I opened them, Father signaled at me with his eyes. Behave, they said.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but right now, a thousand and one million questions were going through my head.

“Hi,” I said to my “stepbrother,” the fakest smile I’ve ever created appearing on my face as I sat on the dining chair.

“Hello.” That irritating smirk I hated so much was on his face. “You must be Elowen.”

Goddammit, jerk. Like you don’t know already.

I nodded. His eyes never left my face as he sat across from me.

How in the world did the guy I had the best kiss with and almost made out with become my stepbrother?

It was supposed to be a probability of zero, maybe every negative number, but here I was, sitting at a dining table so extravagant that it looked like it was made out of a movie.

And there he was, Zephyr, sitting across from me, his dark wet hair longer than I remembered it to be in a way that made me want to pull it and wipe that annoying smirk off his face.

His eyes were still on me, never leaving me for even a second.

I tried my best to keep my expression in check. Not to give any signal that we knew each other. Or the fact that I had kissed those lips and moaned to him where to touch me for me to feel more ecstatic pleasure.

Oh, universe. What could be my offense?

“So,” he said, his voice smooth as he leaned back in the chair, clearly enjoying himself. “Who are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “My dad basically told—”

“Baby, be nice,” Father cut in.

I turned in his direction. His eyes pleaded with me.

I sighed for the umpteenth time tonight. “Elowen. I am Elowen. Nice to meet you…?”

He extended his hand toward me. “Zephyr.”

I stared at his extended hand for a second before taking it in mine. “Nice to finally meet you, stepbrother.”

He gave my hand a little squeeze, and I didn’t want to look him in the eyes to understand what that meant. I pulled away quickly.

“Why didn’t you come in right after me, Zephyr?” Mirabelle asked, her sharp voice breaking the moment.

The whole room stood still. I saw a muscle tick in Zephyr’s jaw.

I glanced at Mirabelle, taking in the contrast between her platinum red hair and Zephyr’s almost-dark, relaxed curls. They had the same beautiful sharp blue eyes, but everything about their energy was different.

Her hair was probably dyed, I thought, staring at Mirabelle’s hair before catching myself.

“Am I supposed to answer that, Mirabelle?” Zephyr said, his eyes glaring at her.

I almost gasped. He calls his own mother by her name?

She scoffed, shook her head, and turned away from him.

Zephyr ignored her, standing and casually making his way around the table. To my absolute horror, he sat down beside me, his leg brushing against mine as he leaned back, looking completely at ease.

I, for one, wasn’t. Especially as his scent hit me.

He smelled of cigarettes, or maybe it was pipe smoke because it was sweeter. Better than the one that hovered in the air back in our apartment. The one Father uses. I hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but Zephyr’s own was weirdly intoxicating.

“Zephyr,” my father said, his voice overly cheerful as trying to pacify the tense atmosphere. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your music career.”

Mirabelle scoffed, which I don’t understand the reason for.

I am truly surprised that Zephyr was into the major I’m going to study at Belmont. If I finally do get in.

“Thank you,” he said flatly, flashing a fake polite smile before turning his attention back to me.

I avoided his gaze, focusing on the growing crowd of maids filtering into the room. Rich people are crazy. Why would someone want people hovering around them, doing basically the littlest things they could do by themselves?

And just so you know, these maids are just kitchen staff only. There are more.

As they placed our food before us, I was tempted to dive in immediately. But seeing as I was in the middle of rich folks, and I could feel Father staring at me, telling me not to embarrass him in front of his billionaire heiress wife and son—

Napkin first.

I quickly unfolded the napkin and placed it on my thigh, feeling like I was under a spotlight.

Dinner was served, course after course of food that looked more like art than actual meals. When I first brought my fork to my mouth and tasted the food, I frowned. All my appetite was gone in an instant.

If this was what rich folks loved, then I didn’t mind not being one of them.

Don’t get me wrong. I would love to be rich one day, but these foods… nope.

My mind suddenly drifted back when I felt something rest on my thigh.

A hand.

Warm and smooth, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of my dress.

My entire body went rigid. My fork clattered against my plate as I coughed sharply.

“Sorry,” I quickly apologized, reaching for my glass of water. My cheeks burned. “The food went down the wrong pipe.”

Mirabelle’s eyes showed no emotion. Father looked at her face and then back at me, his eyes pleading again.

Giving him an apologetic look, I turned and shot a glare at Zephyr, who completely feigned innocence. He seemed amused.

Then his hand started to move.

Slowly, his fingers crept higher, brushing against my bare skin in a way that made my stomach tighten.

I tried to look completely unbothered, but my traitorous body clenched involuntarily, and I bit my lip, willing myself not to react.

I really need to set some rules here against my stepbrother’s actions and my heart, which had started to race.

I placed my hand on his, stopping him from going any further.

He glanced at me, his smirk deepening as he flexed his fingers slightly under my palm.

My glare intensified.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur of forced smiles and awkward little conversations. I barely registered the talks around me, too focused on the heat of Zephyr’s hand and the infuriating way he seemed completely unaffected.

Something unexpected happened.

Zephyr suddenly pulled his hand away from my thigh. He was no longer looking at me.

I followed his gaze to see his mother glaring at him, looking back and forth between my thigh and his hand.

My blood turned cold.

She said nothing. Absolutely nothing. But somehow, that silence felt worse than yelling. Her expression didn’t change. There was no anger in them. No shock at all.

Just a cold, calculating stare that made the tiny hairs on my arms rise.

It felt like she was studying me. Judging me.

Measuring exactly what kind of threat I could become. Then—slowly—her gaze lifted to mine.

And she smiled.

It was elegant. Polite. Beautiful. And somehow the most terrifying thing I had seen all night.

That smile made me shiver.

After a moment, Zephyr stood up abruptly, and I could feel the air in the room get chill in an instant. He didn’t look at me again.

His gaze landed on Father, and his voice was gravelly. “Where’s my room?”

“Upstairs,” Mirabelle replied, her teeth clenched. “But you’re not going anywhere until you say goodnight to everyone.”

I felt the temperature in the room drop so fast. Did Mirabelle see his hand on my thigh or was it all my imagination?

Oh, God. If she did I hope she doesn’t say a word about this to Father, or worse, let the matter escalate. She might think I’m trying to seduce her son so I could climb the ladder of their rich social status.

Calm yourself down, Elowen.

“Goodnight to everyone,” Zephyr repeated in a monotone voice, his eyes on his mother while he smiled tightly. “Now, can I please know where my room is?”

“Would you like me to show you to your room?” I asked, trying to ease the tension in the room.

His eyes turned to me. He sized me up and down with an ice-cold stare.

What the hell?

Just minutes ago, he was all smiles—even though it sickened me—but now? How fast does he switch emotions?

A strange sense of déjà vu hit me immediately. I still remembered how his countenance had changed on the bed nine months ago when he noticed I was still a virgin.

This was worse than then.

He ignored me, and headed toward the stairs. What’s up with that attitude?

Great. Now we are back to how we were supposed to be from the very beginning.

ENEMIES.