Stepbrother's Secret

“What the fuck is this?” I seethe, before I can think better of it, the glass nearly shattering in my hand. “Did I not say, explicitly, that I wanted to be consulted over any changes made to her appearance?”

Cate sucks in a breath.

Rebecca’s smile has disappeared. “Elton told me to go ahead without getting permission,” she stammers, splitting a look between me and her husband. “He said you were too busy with campaign matters.” My stepmother steps back, scanning Cate head to toe. “Is there something wrong?”

“Her appearance didn’t need to be improved on,” I shout. “She was already…”

Perfect as is.

I just manage to keep those revealing words from leaving my mouth.

“The dress is too revealing,” I say instead.

“I like the dress,” Cate fires back, without a hint of her accent.

No trace of it.

I don’t know why that makes me want to crumble, but it does. I asked for this. I paid for the lessons myself. Requested she be molded into someone who we could introduce into society, but I finally understand the phrase be careful what you wish for. Because I just want to tear off the expensive goddamn dress and beg her to sound like the girl I pulled off a tire swing in North Carolina. How dare I facilitate a single change in this perfect, perfect girl?

How fucking dare I?

Bitter frustration wells deep inside of me and I turn. Breaking for the dining room with my head on fire. I’ve wronged her. My intentions the night we met were to keep her safe, take care of her, but instead, I’ve allowed others to make unnecessary revisions.

Oh, her spirit is still there.

Her eyes are still connected to her soul, her energy vibrant and breathtaking.

But now…now that the time is nearing to show her off to the public, I am sick at the prospect. Of sharing her with a single pair of eyes. They will want her, just like me. They will ache to worship at her feet, just like me. How could anyone not? She is an angel among sinners.

Only now, she is dressed up to fit in.

To be welcomed among my peers.

Fawned over.

Courted?

Jealousy seizes my lungs and I launch the glass in my hand at the dining room wall, sending fragments of glass in every direction. A member of the staff bustles in to clean it up without a single glance in my direction and I brace for Cate to enter the dining room behind me.

A moment later, she does, a diamond necklace catching the light between her breasts.

Our parents pass between us to take their seats.

Cate’s eyes find mine through her eyelashes and my cock grows hard at the longing I read there. She’s trying to keep it hidden behind the new façade, but I can see it. I can see that despite her new clothes and hairstyle, she’d still be unbroken and horny if I got her naked.

Having a civilized meal is almost impossible when I’m firm and aching for the girl who sits beside me. So close, we’re almost rubbing elbows.

“Well,” Rebecca says brightly. “It has been a productive two weeks, I must say. We’ve had wardrobe fittings and in-home spa appointments—”

“Spa appointments,” I repeat stiffly. “For what exactly?”

My hand closes around a fork, squeezing it until the silver bites into my palm. The fact that a single inch of her virgin skin was attended to without my permission is unbearable. And yet, this is what I get for staying away for two weeks, isn’t it? It’s all or nothing with this girl. Stay away from Cate or allow this obsession to seize me completely.

As if it hasn’t already.

Rebecca seems nervous about answering, but my father gives her an encouraging look. “Well, her hair needed some shaping. A skincare routine needed to be implemented. And then there was…” She trails off, sipping her wine. “Other things.”

“What other things?” I prompt her.

“Grooming,” Rebecca mutters. “Good old-fashioned waxing. Girl stuff, you know.”

I want to flip this fucking table over. My stepsister barely had any hair between her legs as it was, now it has been done away with, along with her accent? A dangerous thought occurs to me then. One that has me clutching the fork even tighter. I have to take a moment to catch my breath or I will roar. “Who saw her with no panties on?”

“Tristan,” Cate breathes beside me, looking horrified. “Can you please stop?”

The cultured lilt of her new tone of voice has an odd effect on me. I find it painfully sexy and distressing at the same time. Allowing her to be changed in any way was short-sighted. “I’m sure I paid for it. I have a right to know.”

“It was a woman,” Rebecca says smoothly. “I made sure her doctor was a woman, too.”

Alarm catches me off guard and I sit forward. “What did she need a doctor for? Is there something wrong? Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”