My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 327

Chapter 327

Raphael

+15 Ba

I felt the engine die beneath me, but the heat between my shoulder blades didn’t fade. Gianna was still there, a small weight pressed against my spine. Her arms were locked around my waist, her fingers digging into my shirt as if she were afraid I’d disappear into the shadows of the woods if she let go.

I felt her shift. She slowly untangled herself from me, her boots hitting the ground. I watched her in the side mirror of the bike, the way those green cargo pants hugged her hips and that black top exposed the pale skin of her waist made my vision go dark.

Why in the absolute hell did she have to be my damn stepsister?!

I swung my leg over the bike, my own boots hitting the ground and I pulled my helmet off, the freezing air biting at my skin.

She pulled the helmet off, and her hair was slightly messy now, a few light brown strands falling over her eyes. She looked up at me, her cheeks flushed pink from the ride, her lips parted and soft.

The urge to touch her hit me like a blow to the gut. Before my brain could tell me no, I reached out. I grabbed her by the waist, I pulled her forward, dragging her body flush against mine until her chest bumped my own.

“Keep your head low,” I told her, my voice sounding rough even to my own ears. I leaned down, my mouth hovering right by her ear, “There are people in there, stay behind me. Stay quiet.”

She nodded, her eyes wide, and I finally let go, though the loss of her contact felt like a burn. I led her toward the arched wooden doors of the mansion. As soon as I pushed them open, a wall of sound and heat slammed into us. The air was filled with the scent of expensive cigars, spilled vodka, and heavy perfume. Bass from the music throbbed through the floorboards, vibrating in my teeth.

I felt Gianna shrink behind me, her hand catching the back of my shirt.

“Raphael!”

A group of girls in shimmering, tiny dresses drifted toward us. One of them, a blonde I had actually forgotten the name of, stepped into my path, her eyes raking over my face before sliding toward the girl hiding in my shadow.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” the blonde purred, reaching out to touch my arm. She glanced at Gianna, her lip curling in a small, judgmental pout. “And who is this little bird?”

I didn’t even look at her. I didn’t look at any of them. The irritation rose in my throat, hot and bitter. I stepped sideways, shielding Gianna from their prying eyes with the width of my shoulders. I felt a surge of pure, possessive anger at the way they were looking at her, like she was something they could comment on.

“None of your business,” I muttered.

I kept moving, my hand reaching back to grip Gianna’s wrist, pulling her through the crowd. I felt the eyes of the room on us, the whispers starting, but I didn’t care. I just wanted her away from them.

We stepped into the room where I kept my weapons and I locked the door behind us. The walls were lined with glowing high-tech displays and racks of weapons that cost more than most people made in a lifetime.

Gianna let out a small, breathless sound. She started to walk around the room. I stayed by the door, leaning my back against the wood, my arms crossing over my chest. I just watched her.

1/2

15 Baraus

She walked to the long glass case on the left. Inside were rows of sleek, matte black pistols and custom-made knives with handles carved from bone and carbon fiber. Her fingers hovered over the glass, her eyes scanning the sights, the triggers.

She moved to the center table, where a disassembled long-range rifle lay under a bright white light. She leaned in close, her eyes tracking the intricate pieces of the bolt and the barrel. She looked at the weapons the way a normal girl looked at jewelry, with awe.

“Like what you see?” I asked.

She jumped slightly, her shoulders tensing, but she didn’t look away from a row of silver-plated revolvers.

I pushed off the door and walked toward her. I stopped at a large glass case that held the heavy hitters, the tools 1 used when I needed to make a point. I tapped my knuckle against the reinforced glass.

“Choose one,” I said, my gaze dropping to the back of her neck, “Pick something for the hunt. Whatever feels right in your hand.”

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