Page 47 of Jealous Stepbrother
Because I’m not about to let them dictate my next move.
And because the thought of having her under our parents’ roof, in a house full of doors that lock, might just kill me in the best possible way.
I hang up before either of them can respond.
The silence in the bedroom is brutal. Scarlett’s still looking at me, trembling with dread, but what she doesn’t know—what she’ll never really understand—is that dread is nothing compared to the craving that chews me alive.
Montauk isn’t a punishment.
It’s an opportunity. The first real trial of our forever.
And God help anyone under that roof who thinks they’re going to take her from me.
CHAPTER 12
MONTAUK THIRST TRAP
Scarlett
The house hasn’t changed much in four years.
White clapboard, wraparound porch, and carefully curated hydrangeas so lush they look fake. The air smells like sea salt and money. Victor Masterson’s old-money brand of both.
But the atmosphere inside?
I know that’s going to be new.
Mom hurries out the moment Asher pulls up to the front doors and shuts off the ignition to his Aston Martin DB11. I barely step out before she’s hugging me, clinging like she thinks I might vanish.
I hug herbackbecause I’ve missed her.
I haven’t seen her for over a month and, well, I’ve missed our closeness.
What I don’t miss is her eyes flicking between me and Asher like she’s playing a tense game of spot-the-difference.
Victor trails slower behind his wife but his gaze is equally sharp and assessing, even though his hug is warm and his smile genuine.
Until he turns to Asher.
The father-and-son handshake is firm but heavy with an ominouswe’ll talk latermessage.
“Great timing,” Mom says, tugging me inside. “Dinner’s just about ready.”
We head inside, my arm tucked into my mother’s and the men striding behind us.
Dinner’s already on the table, wine being poured.
Polite, sharp-edged pleasantries are exchanged. I keep my head down, knowing my mother is dying to interrogate me about the past few weeks.
And halfway through the meal, she pounces. “So, you weren’t going to tell us about the internship with Asher?”
Asher tenses beside me for a moment before he relaxes, but I know he’s fully tuned in.
The fork in my hand clinks against the plate. “I didn’t think I’d get it,” I blurt before I can stop myself. And then I force a shrug. “Besides, I didn’t even know he was House of M until I arrived on my first day.”
Her brows knit. “And when did you start doubting yourself like that?”
Before I can answer, Victor cuts in, eyes sliding toward his son. “I’m surprised you even got in, considering the applicant pool. Unless, of course, nepotism had something to do with it.”
