My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 100

A few minutes later, the door opened again and I looked up before I could stop myself.

He stepped out, fresh, clean, a towel in his hand as he dried the last drops of water from his chest.

Sunlight from the window caught against his skin, tracing over the hard lines of his torso, the ink, the sharp cut of muscle that looked almost unreal under the light.

I looked away again but slower this time and I hated that. I hated the way my eyes wanted to go back.

He picked up his fresh shirt and started putting it on. Button by button, the professional version of him came back together right in front of me, like the other one had never existed.

“You’re distracted,” he said casually.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

His cufflinks clicked into place, “You won’t survive that room like this.”

“I said I’m fine.”

He glanced at me then, adjusting his collar. A faint, unimpressed look, “You’re defensive,” he noted. “That’s worse.”

My fingers curled into my palms, “I can handle a meeting.”

“We’ll see.”

He stepped closer again, not as close as before but enough to feel it.

“Walk me through the model,” he said, nodding toward the report on the desk. “Again.”

The test.

I forced myself to focus, to pull the words together properly this time.

“The system tracks behavioral patterns,” I started, slower, more careful, “Spending, location, login habits. If something shifts outside the user’s normal range, it flags the activity—”

“Threshold?”

“Eighty-two percent for high-risk detection,” I answered quickly. “It prioritizes early identification before transaction confirmation—”

“No filler words,” he cut in.

I stopped.

Reset.

“It flags risk before the action completes.”

His gaze stayed on me, “Again,” he ordered.

I repeated it, cleaner this time and for a moment, I was proud of myself.

He picked up his jacket, sliding it on smoothly, “That’s better, but it's still not good enough.”

I crossed my arms, “What now?”

“You rush the second half,” he said, tapping the page. “You lose control of your pacing. That’s where people stop listening.”

Instinct.

Annoying, automatic instinct.

His gaze followed the shift instantly, like he’d been waiting for it, “There,” he said quietly, “That’s what it should look like.”

God, I wanted to hit him.

“Anything else?” I asked tightly.

“Yes.”

Of course there was.

“If they question you,” he said, stepping past me to grab his laptop, “don’t defend. Don’t ramble. Answer once. Clearly.”

He paused at the door then looked back at me.

“And don’t look at me for help.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten again.

“I won’t,” I said.

He opened the door, holding it just long enough for me to walk through first. I hesitated for half a second then stepped out.

He followed behind me, close enough that I could feel it without turning around. And somehow walking into that meeting room felt easier than standing alone in a room with him.