Page 92 of Heartless Stepbrother
Someone had touched everything I owned.
And yet… it didn’t feel invasive.
It felt intentional.
I turned slowly, noticing the second door for the first time. It sat on the same wall as the entrance, matte black, unmarked.
“What’s that?” I asked, glancing back toward the hallway.
Riley was still standing in my doorway, watching me with the kind of attention that made my skin prickle.
His eyes warmed with a slow, dangerous kind of amusement.
“That,” he said, pushing off the doorframe, “is the best part.”
I arched a brow. “Which is…?”
“A bathroom.”
His tone made it sound like a promise more than a fact.
My pulse jumped as I crossed the room and reached for the handle. The door glided open, quiet and seamless.
The breath left my lungs.
The bathroom wasn’t a bathroom.
It was a sanctuary. A spa. A work of architectural seduction.
White marble veined in gold stretched across the floors and walls. A freestanding tub sat beneath a frosted skylight that poured in soft, diffused light as if the room had its own private moon. A walk-in shower was encased in crystal-clear glass, steam jets built into the wall like we were in a five-star hotel. Brass fixtures gleamed everywhere. Even the towels were rolled with ridiculous precision.
I stepped inside, stunned.
“Wow,” I whispered.
I ran my hand over the marble counter, noticing the separate drawers already stocked perfectly.
I didn’t even hear Riley follow me in.
Not until I felt it.
That shift in the air.
That warmth.
That gravitational pull.
I turned a little, and there he was, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me with a grin that curled slowly, wickedly, like he was already ten steps ahead of me.
“You like it,” he said.
“It’s… incredible.”
“Mm.” He nodded once. “Wait until you see the rest.”
“The rest?” I frowned. “What rest?”
He didn’t answer.
