Page 75 of Jealous Stepbrother
“But… I—I didn’t… this is the first time I’m hearing about your offer.” My voice is thready, raw. “I never even saw the first email until just now.”
A pause. Then a soft sigh. “But we received a reply from your account. Very polite, very firm. It said you were committed to other obligations in New York, and that you’d be in touch if your situation changed. We honored your request, but we thought we’d ask one last time.”
Blood drains from my face. “That wasn’t…” I bite my tongue, grip the edge of the vanity until my knuckles ache. “There must have been some miscommunication. Please tell me I still have a chance?”
She pauses for a second. “Our selection schedule is very tight. If you wish for the final slot you will need to be here, in Florence, by Monday.” Another pause, regretful. “Otherwise I’m sorry, we will have to withdraw the offer.Ciao, signorina.”
The line goes dead, leaving me staring at my reflection—eyes red, mouth parted, face pale—as the truth slams into me.
Asher stole this from me, too. Or he tried to.
I punch the phone number again. “Mom, can you bring my passport with you?”
“Your passport? Why, honey?”
“J-just… bring it, please. I’ll explain when we meet.”
I barely recall getting dressed or the Uber ride to Soho, but somehow I’m sitting at Mom’s favorite French restaurant with tears in my eyes.
I barely made it through the doors before the dam broke.
“Scarlett?” Annette rises, her face softening with concern as she wraps me in her arms. “What’s happened?”
“I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” My voice is raw, shaking. “I love it, Mom. I love being part of House of M. I love—” My throat locks, but I force it out. “But I want to make my own choices. And he won’t let me. He’s… he’s stealing them.”
For a moment she just studies me. Then she shocks me by nodding, calm as if she’s been expecting this. “I know.”
“You—what?”
Her hands frame my face, her thumbs sweeping tears I can’t stop. “I guessed something was going on. I hoped you would tell me,” she chides gently. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way you look back.” Her lips curve in a faint, sad smile. “But why are you running, Scarlett? Surely you know Asher adores you?”
I shudder. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for that kind of…” I swallow hard, searching for the word. “That kind of consuming love.”
Annette’s eyes soften. “I have a feeling you’ll find out soon enough.”
“No,” I shake my head, gripping her hands. “I need distance. I need to think. Away from him. Please. Did you bring it? My passport?” I whisper hoarsely.
She doesn’t argue. She hands it over and calls for the check.
An hour later, she’s at my side at JFK, my suitcase in the trunk of her car, her hand gripping mine as though she’ll never let go.
Asher’s calls light up my phone, one after another, buzzing like a live wire in my pocket.
I don’t answer.
At the counter, I buy a ticket to Florence. My hands are still shaking as I hand over my passport.
“Honey, are you sure about this?”
My mouth wobbles, but my gut clenches. “No. Not really. But I need to find out.”
She nods. Holds my hand and walks me to the gate. “Let us know when you land. That you’re safe?”
I nod. “I love you, Mom.”
For the first time in weeks, my lungs expand.
There’s a cruel promise of it catching the bottom of my breath.
