Page 13 of Possessive Stepbrother

Vanilla cupcakes

No

No? You don’t like it?

A second dessert

What?

You

Oh god. Just come home

I smile at my phone like a fool because even exchanging messages with her makes me so damn happy I feel like exploding.

Home.

I like my place because it’s peaceful and quiet, despite all the noise downstairs. But I mostly just see it as a place to rest and sleep. That’s why I didn’t bother hiring an interior designer. What’s the point?

But when Raven told me it could use a woman’s touch, I knew down to the marrow of my bones it would be her.

I’ve lived alone for most of my life, and I couldn’t imagine sharing my space.

All that changed when Raven came.

Can I picture going home to her? Her and our future kids?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

I should’ve known when I laid my eyes on her and it felt like someone punched me in the gut. Her beauty demanded attention and appreciation. But more than that, these past few days basically revealed she’s just as beautiful on the inside.

After locking the doors, I rush from the truck to the second floor, sparing just a wave to Mrs. Petrov, who’s busy watering her white and yellow plants.

I take the stairs two at a time, unable to believe my luck at having Raven wait for me with a smile.

See, I understand what these feelings mean.

She’s the endgame for me. Being a perpetual bachelor sounds nice. But having to come home to her every day, sharing meals across from her, hearing her laugh, watching her smile, making her come apart, writhe, and thrash. Nothing—and I mean nothing—can ever top that.

I’m almost to the second floor when a sense of unease gnaws at me. Something is off. No, something’s terribly wrong. I can’t put a finger on it, but I can’t shake the sensation either.

The track lights by the front door are turned off, leaving the entrance and the stairs shrouded in darkness. It turns on automatically, and the switch needs to be manually flipped if I want to turn it off at nighttime.

Using my phone to cast a glow on the keyhole, I slide my key in and turn it. The door creaks open, and it’s just as dark in the living room. I’m about to walk inside when my shoe steps on something on the floor. I bend down and extend my fingers to pick it up, bringing it to my face for a closer look.

It’s a plague doctor mask.

My heart slams against my ribcage, my vision blurring at the edges. I don’t know how or why. All I’m sure of is Raven might be in danger. If I find her unharmed inside, then we’ll laugh off my paranoia. But if I’m right and someone tries to hurt her…

I’ll squeeze the life out of him. Whoever he is.

No one touches my girl and gets away with it. No one harms her and walks away scot-free.

At the very least, he’ll crawl this floor with broken bones.

I slam the door wide open, eyes darting around and quickly scanning every corner.

Fear courses through my veins like an electric shock when my gaze lands on the two figures in the kitchen. Raven has something stuck in her mouth, muffling her cries, and is tied to the chair.

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