Chapter 6 My Stepbrother And I

The following morning was a whirlwind of activity. Movers were in and out of our apartment, packing up the last of our belongings while Mom flitted around, giving instructions and checking lists. She was glowing with excitement, and I knew there was no way I could ruin this for her.

Chris had been eerily silent since last night, but I knew it wouldn't last. He was waiting, biding his time, and that made me more nervous than if he had been openly teasing me.

As the last box was loaded onto the truck, Mom clapped her hands together. "Alright, sweetheart. Ready for our new home?"

I forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Ready."

As we drove to the mansion, my mother couldn't stop gushing about her future with Robert.

"Stella, do you realize what this means for us?" she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "No more struggling, no more worrying about bills. We're about to be part of high society."

I stared out the window, barely listening. She was so caught up in her dreams of wealth that she didn't notice my silence-or the storm brewing inside me.

But as we pulled into the long driveway of Robert's sprawling mansion, my stomach twisted, the sheer size of the mansion took my breath away.

This wasn't just a house-it was a palace. Massive stone pillars lined the entrance, and a fountain stood proudly in the circular driveway, water cascading from the sculpture of two swans entwined. The lawn was perfectly manicured, and the driveway was big enough to fit a dozen cars.

Uniformed servants were already waiting, moving swiftly to take our belongings.

"Welcome, ma'am," one of them greeted my mother with a polite nod. "Your rooms have been prepared."

Mom beamed as if she had already claimed her place as lady of the house. "Thank you," she said grandly, stepping inside like she had always belonged there.

I followed behind, dragging my suitcase, but my feet came to a halt when I saw him.

Chris.

Descending the grand staircase, his steps slow and deliberate, wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging shorts.

My breath hitched as my eyes unwillingly traced his toned chest, the way the dim light cast shadows over his defined muscles. He was smug, knowing exactly the effect he had.

His smirk was subtle but unmistakable.

"Welcome home," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the handle of my suitcase.

This was going to be hell.

Mom, oblivious to the tension, smiled at him. "Chris, dear, you're quite comfortable, aren't you?"

Chris didn't take his eyes off me as he smirked. "Why wouldn't I be? This is my house, after all."

I clenched my jaw, gripping my suitcase handle tighter.

This was already a nightmare. And it had only just begun.

"Where's your father?" my mother asked.

"In his study attending to some business calls." Chris replied. "Show them to their rooms." He said to one of the servants and walked away.

Finally alone in my new room, I let out a heavy breath and sat on the edge of the massive bed. The room was beautiful-too beautiful. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, delicate curtains framed the tall windows, and the bed itself felt like it belonged to royalty. It was nothing like what I was used to. My new bedroom was larger than our entire old apartment, decorated with elegant furniture and soft, inviting colors. But it felt like a stranger's room.

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind already drifting where I didn't want it to go. Chris.

I hated how much space he took up in my thoughts. Every time I thought I had moved on, he found a way to drag me back in. And now, we were under the same roof. I closed my eyes, memories of that night creeping in against my will-the way his hands had gripped my waist, the way his lips had felt on my skin, the way my body had betrayed me.

I shook my head. No. It was a mistake.

But Chris didn't see it that way. He had made that very clear. And judging by the smug way he looked at me downstairs, he wasn't going to make this easy.

A knock on the door made me jolt.

"Miss Stella," a soft voice called from the other side. "Dinner will be served soon. Your mother asked me to let you know you should get ready."

I cleared my throat, pushing down the emotions swirling inside me. "Alright. Thank you."

I stood up, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. My face was unreadable, but I knew the battle waging inside me.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

Dinner was served in an extravagant dining hall, the kind I'd only ever seen in movies. A long polished table stretched across the room, adorned with elegant candles, fine china, and an array of dishes so elaborate I didn't even know where to start. Servants moved with practiced grace, refilling glasses, adjusting cutlery, and making sure everything was perfect. It was overwhelming.

My mother sat beside Robert, practically glowing. She had been in a fantastic mood all day, and as we settled into our seats, it became clear why. She had everything she ever wanted-wealth, status, and the man who could provide it all. Her smile was wide as she listened to Robert talk, nodding eagerly at every word, occasionally squeezing his hand like a devoted fiancée.

I tried to focus on my plate, cutting into a piece of salmon, but Chris sat directly across from me, his presence impossible to ignore. He leaned back lazily in his chair, looking completely at ease, as if he owned the place. Every now and then, I'd feel his eyes on me, lingering, studying. And every time I glanced up, there it was-that damn smirk, subtle yet taunting.