My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 42

"Too much butter," I commented and let go of her hand.

Gianna’s eyes flashed with a sudden fire. She pulled her hand back and slammed the rest of the sandwich down onto the plate like I had ruined it.

“Seriously?” she snapped as she pushed the plate away from me a few inches, “Get your own sandwich, or maybe try asking first,” she added, “Or do you only know how to take things? Considering you were the one calling me a thief the other day, I figured you’d be a little more careful about stealing my food.”

That stubborn pride again.

It sat under her skin like a challenge waiting to be answered.

I rested one hand on the edge of the island and leaned forward slightly, close enough that she had to tip her head back a little further to keep eye contact.

“You’re confusing two very different things,” I said calmly.

My gaze flicked down to the plate, then slowly back to her face. I reached out and dragged the plate back toward me with two fingers.

“Stealing requires ownership,” I continued, “You don’t own anything in this house.”

My eyes dropped briefly to the oversized shirt hanging off her shoulder, the bare skin of her legs, the clumsy tape around her feet. When I looked back up again, my expression hadn’t changed.

“The roof over your head belongs to us. The food in this kitchen belongs to us. The electricity keeping these lights on belongs to us.”

I tore off another small piece of the sandwich, chewing slowly as I held her gaze.

“So no,” I finished evenly, brushing a crumb from my fingers. “I’m not stealing your food. It's already mine.”

She went very still after that.

Then she let out a short breath through her nose. Her eyes dragged slowly over my face like she was studying something unpleasant she couldn’t quite believe existed.

“You know,” she said slowly, “it’s impressive.”

I lifted an eyebrow slightly.

“The confidence,” she continued, “The certainty that everything around you exists for your convenience. Food. Houses. People. You really are the perfect example of everything that’s wrong with men like you.”

She pushed the plate a little farther away from both of us, like the sandwich had suddenly become something unpleasant to look at.

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