Ten Days to Leave My Stepbrother (Beatrice) novel Chapter 18

**Across Quiet Meadows Rise Dreams Waiting For Their Moment**
**Chapter 18**

Nestled in a serene neighborhood close to University College London, the apartment radiated a sense of promise and comfort. Beatrice felt a wave of contentment wash over her as she took in her surroundings. The quietude of the area was a stark contrast to the bustling life she had known, and she was grateful for this new beginning.

Greyson, ever the attentive companion, guided her through the apartment, his keen eyes scanning the rooms for any essentials that might be missing. He made notes, mentally cataloging everything they would need to make this space truly feel like home.

Once they finished the tour, he suggested they take a stroll around the neighborhood. With each step, he pointed out the local supermarket, a variety of charming restaurants, ample parking spaces, and even the quaint little paths that meandered through the area. Beatrice listened intently, trying to commit every detail to memory, her heart swelling with appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you so much for showing me around,” she said earnestly, her eyes shining with gratitude.

Greyson merely nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. As they walked, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, and her stomach growled softly, reminding her that lunchtime was approaching.

“What are you in the mood for?” Greyson asked, his tone casual but attentive.

Beatrice hesitated, feeling slightly out of her depth. The local cuisine was unfamiliar territory for her, and she didn’t want to make a poor choice. “I’m not quite sure. I’d love to go with your recommendation,” she replied, hoping her uncertainty didn’t sound too obvious.

Without missing a beat, Greyson led her to a delightful little restaurant that exuded charm. As they settled into their seats, Beatrice found herself pleasantly surprised by Greyson’s character. After spending more than a day together, she realized he was genuinely a decent person, a refreshing change from the more boisterous personalities of Lilith and Elliot.

Although Greyson was less talkative, he wasn’t cold or distant. He simply preferred to listen, sharing his thoughts only when prompted. There was a reliability about him that Beatrice found comforting, a sense that he was capable of handling whatever life threw their way.

As they waited for their food, an unspoken bond began to form between them, a natural closeness that Beatrice hadn’t anticipated. Just as they placed their order, her phone buzzed with a call from Lilith.

“Hey, when are you two coming back?” Lilith’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Greyson glanced at Beatrice, seeking her input. She gestured for four fingers, and he responded accordingly, relaying the message succinctly.

“My mom is preparing a welcome dinner for you tonight. She wants us to come over once we’re done here,” he explained, his tone casual yet hinting at the significance of the occasion.

A welcome dinner? The thought felt overwhelming to Beatrice, who was still adjusting to this new chapter in her life. The anticipation of such attention was both exciting and daunting, but she decided to embrace it. “That sounds lovely,” she said, masking her nerves with a polite smile.

Maverick eyed Greyson with a mix of resentment and suspicion. “And who exactly is he?” he demanded, his tone sharp.

Beatrice could sense the possessiveness radiating from Maverick, a familiar feeling that made her heart sink. “A friend,” she replied, her voice calm but tinged with frustration.

Maverick’s disbelief was palpable, but he recognized that this was not the moment for a confrontation. Instead, he turned to Beatrice, grabbing her hand with an urgency that made her skin crawl. “Come with me,” he insisted, his voice firm.

But Beatrice was resolute, pulling her hand away and taking a few steps toward Greyson, her voice steady. “I have things to do. I don’t have time,” she stated, her words igniting the simmering anger within Maverick.

His brows knitted together in disbelief. “Is this how you talk to me?” he asked, his voice rising, the hurt evident in his eyes.

Beatrice felt a flicker of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my attitude. I’m just stating the facts,” she replied, her tone unwavering, determined to stand her ground.

In that moment, the air was thick with tension, and Beatrice knew that this confrontation was only the beginning of a much larger struggle.