Don’t Call Me Brother

Chapter One

Rowan

The city hums beyond the tall glass windows of La Belle époque, a five-star restaurant perched on the thirty-second floor with a view that makes the skyline look like scattered diamonds on black velvet.

Crystal chandeliers drip soft gold light over white tablecloths and deep red leather booths.

The air smells of seared wagyu, aged wine, and expensive perfume.

Six months since Cade came home, they’d said. As if the man had been off fighting a war instead of choosing to move two states away, only to stroll back and slot straight into the family firm like he’d never left.

I push through the heavy oak doors, nodding once at the ma?tre d’ who knows me by name.

My charcoal wool coat is still dotted with a few stray raindrops.

I don’t particularly want to be here. Celebrating Cade’s return feels forced, like we’re all pretending this is some wholesome family milestone instead of David gently steering his son back into the fold, so he can take over the social-facing side of Mercer Security.

Home systems for the rich. Surveillance tech that skirts every grey line in the book.

Spyware that “we can’t control who buys it.

” And a fat contract with the city’s police department that keeps the lights on and the lawyers happy.

I handle the tech development side… algorithms, encryption layers, the quiet backbone that actually makes the money disappear into offshore accounts when necessary.

Cade? He gets to smile for cameras, shake hands with clients, and look brooding in tailored clothes, while the press calls him the “charming face” of the company.

I spot Mom immediately. She stands up in the far booth, waving with that bright, practiced smile she’s had since I was a kid.

The red dress hits just below her knees, hugging her figure in a way that makes her look closer to fifty than sixty.

Her blonde-grey hair is curled softly around her face, catching the light like she’s still the woman who used to tuck me in after Dad left.

A small, genuine smile pulls at my mouth just for her.

She’s always been my biggest supporter… through the rocky years with David, through college, through every messy relationship that never quite stuck.

David’s been decent too, in his own stiff way.

He paid for my degree, handed me a real role at the firm when most stepfathers would’ve kept their biological son front and centre.

The early tension between us dissolved somewhere around my twentieth birthday.

I was ten when Mom first brought David home.

I was angry, quiet, and convinced he’d replace the father-shaped hole I still poked at sometimes. He never did, he just… stayed.

But Cade… Cade has always been different. Watchful and quiet in a way that feels deliberate, like he’s cataloguing every word, every glance, and every shift in the room. Mom loves that about him, says he actually listens. Those dark brown eyes of his don’t miss much.

I reach the table and lean down to hug Mom, breathing in her familiar perfume. “You look lovely, Mom.”

She laughs lightly and waves the compliment away, cheeks pink. “Oh, stop it, darling.” Then she gestures to the empty space in the curved booth opposite her. “Sit, sit.”

The only spot left slides me directly next to Cade.

He’s leaning back against the plush deep-red leather like he owns the entire restaurant, one arm draped casually along the back of the booth.

A glass of whiskey sits in his other hand, the amber liquid catching the light as he takes a slow sip.

Dark navy polo clings to his shoulders and chest, no suit for him, he looks relaxed.

David, on the other hand, is still in his grey suit from the office, tie loosened just enough to look intentional.

I didn’t have time to run home and change.

Black button-down, sleeves rolled to my elbows, and dark trousers.

David gives me a warm nod. “You want a drink, Rowan?”

I manage a small smile, and nod, already wishing I were anywhere else. Keeping the peace… that’s what tonight’s about. David flags down a waitress without missing a beat.

“Large latte, please.” I don’t even glance at her, just pick up the leather-bound menu and scan the entrées like they might offer an escape route.

“No whiskey tonight?” David asks, a teasing edge in his voice.

I shake my head, eyes still on the menu. “Early appointment in the morning. I’d rather not.”

He nods, respectful as always. “Good man.”

Then something nudges my ankle under the table, deliberately. I frown and glance down, the toe of one of Cade’s familiar black boots lingers against my leg for a second longer than necessary. I slowly lift my gaze to him.

He’s watching me. One dark brow slightly raised, that tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t say a word, just nods once toward the waitress standing at the edge of the table.

I turn my head. She’s young, pretty in that polished restaurant way, cheeks flushed pink as she writes down the drink orders. Her eyes keep flicking to me, then away, then back again. A nervous little smile plays on her lips.

Mom’s grinning like she’s already planning a wedding.

I clear my throat. “Can you give us ten minutes, please?”

The waitress bites her lip, still smiling. “Of course, Mr. Adley.”

I give her a tight, polite smile and roll my eyes the second her back is turned, shaking my head.

Mom leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ladies do love the blondes.”

I look up at her, exhaling through my nose. “No, Mom… the majority would prefer someone like Cade.” I gesture weakly in his direction without actually looking at him. “You know… tall, dark, and handsome.”

Because he is, objectively. Brooding dark messy hair that somehow looks intentionally effortless.

Sharp jawline. The kind of build that comes from actual gym time instead of just running on spite and caffeine like I do.

My own hair is dirty blond, darker than golden, kept short on the sides, longer and curly on top.

One stubborn curl always falls into my face no matter how much product I use.

I have to tame it every morning. Cade just rolls out of bed looking like that.

Cade leans forward, forearms resting on the table now, that deep voice low and curiously amused. “Handsome?”

I finally meet his eyes, dark brown and watchful.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I say dryly. “That’s just what I’ve heard from your many exes.”

Cade hums, a low sound that vibrates somewhere in my chest whether I want it to or not, and leans back again as David and Mom start talking about some charity gala next month.

…

After the main course, I nurse a single glass of red wine instead of another coffee. The last thing I need is caffeine buzzing through my veins at this hour, but I also have no intention of letting the bottle loosen my tongue too much.

David clears his throat, setting his own glass down. “Rowan, Cade has something he’d like to ask you.”

I look at my stepbrother, brows already pulling together. I dab my mouth politely with the napkin, buying half a second before I have to deal with whatever this is.

Cade’s lips curve into the smallest, most self-satisfied grin. “I’m moving in, brother.”

I roll my eyes hard, hating the way he drags that word out like it’s supposed to mean something warm. “Moving in where?”

David jumps in with a hopeful smile that doesn’t quite hide his nerves. “With you.”

I freeze, gaze flicking between the three of them. A disbelieving laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “No.”

Mom sighs softly, reaching toward me like she can smooth this over with maternal patience. “Sweetheart, his own place needs renovations. It won’t be for long.”

Exasperation burns hot in my chest. “Why can’t he stay with you two?”

“We offered,” David says, spreading his hands, “but… he doesn’t want to.”

I turn sharply to Cade, who’s been letting David do all the talking. “I have a one-bedroom apartment, Cade. Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay with them.”

Cade licks his lips slowly, dark eyes steady on mine. “Too late.”

“What do you mean ‘too late’?”

He doesn’t answer with words, of course he doesn’t. He simply unlocks his phone, taps the screen a couple of times, and turns it toward me. A text from the moving company stares back: Your belongings are waiting securely outside the apartment.

My stomach drops. I pale as I stand, disbelief coursing through me. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Cade lets out a rare, low, deep laugh that curls through the air like smoke.

I slap a few hundred-dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover the whole meal, and walk out without another word. This has to be a joke; it has to be.

The elevator ride down feels endless. My breathing is too fast and shallow.

I don’t want this. I chose a one-bedroom specifically so no one could invade my space.

Sure, it’s spacious, and the couch is long enough for Cade’s tall frame, but that’s not the point.

The point is I like my solitude and privacy; I earned it.

When the doors finally open onto the parking garage, I stride straight to my Jeep, unlock it with a sharp beep, and climb in. The engine rumbles to life under my hands. I’m going home right now to make sure this isn’t some sick prank.