Chapter 9 My Stepbrother And I

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of knocking on my door. Groggy and disoriented, I blinked against the morning light streaming through the sheer curtains.

"Miss Stella, it's time to get ready for the shoot," a soft but firm voice called from the other side.

Right. The photo shoot.

Dragging myself out of bed, I quickly showered and slipped into the outfit that had been laid out for me-a sleek, elegant dress that screamed high fashion. I barely had time to process how it looked on me before I was ushered downstairs by one of the staff.

The main hall had been transformed into a professional studio setup, with cameras, lighting equipment, and a team of stylists buzzing around. My mother was already in the center of it all, laughing and chatting excitedly with the magazine's team, looking like she had belonged in this world her entire life.

"Stella, darling, come here!" my mother called, waving me over.

I obeyed, pasting on a polite smile as I joined my mother and Robert. The photographer was giving directions, adjusting angles, and making sure everyone looked picture-perfect.

Then, I saw him.

Chris.

Dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, he leaned against one of the marble pillars, looking effortlessly handsome. His smirk was subtle, but his eyes-those knowing, dark eyes-held amusement as they met hers.

My breath caught, but I quickly schooled my expression.

Ignore him. Pretend last night never happened.

"Alright, let's get started!" the photographer clapped his hands, directing us into position.

I was placed between my mother and Robert, with Chris positioned slightly behind us. The first few shots were easy-smiling, looking natural, posing as one big happy family.

But then came the groupings.

"Now, just the young couple-Chris and Stella, let's see some chemistry!" the photographer said cheerfully.

I stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"You're both the next generation of this family. We need shots of you two together," he explained, gesturing them forward.

I hesitated. Every instinct told me to protest, but before I could say a word, Chris was already moving, stepping up beside me with that cocky, knowing smirk.

"Come on, Stella," he murmured, low enough that only me could hear. "Let's give them what they want."

My jaw clenched. Bastard.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to stay composed as the photographer posed them-Chris standing close behind me, one hand resting on my waist, his breath just barely skimming my ear.

"Perfect," the photographer praised. "Now, a little more connection, Stella-lean into him, like you trust him."

Chris let out a soft chuckle at that.

Trust.

If only they knew.

Swallowing my frustration, I did as told, leaning ever so slightly into him. But Chris took it a step further, his fingers subtly tracing circles on my hip. A touch so light it could have been accidental, but I knew better.

My pulse spiked.

"Beautiful, beautiful!" the photographer gushed. "Hold that for a moment!"

Chris tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against my temple. "You're tense, babe," he whispered. "Should I help you relax?"

That was it.

My entire body went rigid, and without thinking, I stepped forward, out of his hold. "I need a break," I muttered, spinning on my heel and walking off the set before anyone could stop me.

I could hear Chris chuckle behind me, low and amused.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And worse?

He always got under my skin.

My plan to avoid him was already futile, unless I did something about it.

---

I paced the length of the terrace, my arms wrapped around myself as the cool evening air brushed against my skin. The photo shoot had been exhausting-not because of the endless camera flashes, but because of him.

Chris had pushed me, tested my patience in front of everyone, and now, as much as I wanted to ignore him, I knew we needed to talk. To set boundaries. To stop this before it became an even bigger mess.

I heard footsteps behind me, slow and deliberate.

"Running away again, princess?" Chris drawled, stepping beside me with his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

I let out a sigh, turning to face him. "Chris, we need to talk."

He smirked. "We are talking."

"You know what I mean," I said, my tone firm. "This-whatever this is between us-needs to stop. We need to stay away from each other."

Chris arched a brow, clearly amused. "And why's that?"

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Are you serious? Our parents are getting married. That makes us family, Chris. We can't-" I shook my head, exasperated. "This thing between us? It's wrong."

He chuckled, taking a step closer. "You keep saying this like there's something here."

My stomach twisted at his words, especially because we both knew there was something- something I didn't want to name.

Chris leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "Tell me, Stella. When I touched you last night, when you let me-"

"Chris," I interrupted, my voice sharp, laced with warning.

But he didn't stop. "Did it feel wrong then?"

I clenched my jaw, looking away. "It doesn't matter how it felt."

He exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "That's the problem with you, Stella. You care too much about what should be right instead of what you want."

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "What I want is for us to act like normal step-siblings and not-whatever this is."

Chris studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded once. "Alright. If that's what you want."

Relief washed over me. "It is."

"Okay sister."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding, wondering if it was really done between us.