35. Amelia
Chapter 35
Amelia
I 'm not going to pretend I haven't spent the last twenty minutes ignoring everyone who's tried to talk to me. At this point, it's all white noise, and all I care about is why Tobias hasn't come back to the party yet.
Which is why I'm completely checked out while Penelope James—fresh widow, fresh Botox, and fresh off inheriting enough money to buy a small country—drones on about her late husband's tragic demise. Something about her sweet Gerald dropping dead on a cruise ship. Heart attack? Shark attack? Man overboard? Who knows? I stopped listening somewhere between her first fake sniffle and her third dramatic pause.
"I thought I saw your brother here earlier."
I really wish people wouldn't call him that.
You literally just introduced him to Bryce as that, dickhead.
"He's around," I reply, keeping my tone even while my fingers tighten slightly around the delicate stem of my champagne glass. Apparently, I'm not the only one keeping tabs on Tobias tonight.
"Is he seeing anyone? I ask every year, you know, since he turned eighteen, and he always says no."
Cougar or predator, I'm not even sure at this point. All I know is that the way she speaks about him, as if she's circling her prey, is enough to make my skin itch.
Something suddenly pulls me, an invisible thread coiled so tightly around my core that resistance isn't even an option. My eyes lift, instantly drawing me to him before I fully realize what's happening. Tobias is striding toward me, hands shoved casually into his pockets, but there's nothing casual about the way he looks at me.
He doesn't pause, doesn't glance at anyone else, and it's like the room around us has faded into static. It's just him and that unrelenting gaze, zeroed in on me as if I'm the only person here.
Every stride eats up the distance between us, the tailored suit he hates clinging to him in a way that makes it impossible not to notice the strength in his shoulders. Tobias isn't just walking—he's stalking, and it's impossible to look away.
Penelope's eyes move past me, catching sight of him, and the transformation is instant. Her spine snaps straight, and her head tilts as if she's just locked onto her next target.
And just like that, I vanish. I'm no longer any part of her world.
A petty, possessive part of me wants to grab her by that overly lacquered hair and remind her exactly whose space he's walking into. But the other part knows Tobias doesn't need me to do a damn thing. He's more than capable of shutting her down himself, and judging by the way his eyes are focused on me, it's crystal clear where he's headed.
He stops just a breath away, his eyes burning through me, scorching me from the inside out. He doesn't spare Penelope so much as a glance—it's all me.
"Tobias, darling, we were just talking about you."
"That's great, Penelope," Tobias says, his tone so dismissive it's clear that, right now, Penelope doesn't matter. She doesn't even exist. "Amelia, I need to talk to you."
"Can it wait?" I ask because this dangerous, messy, untouched thing between us is no longer simmering—it's boiling over, and we both know it.
"Join us, Tobias. I was just asking—"
"No, it can't wait," he snaps, cutting her off so sharply it practically echoes.
Whatever this is, it's happening now, and he's not stopping it.
"Why don't you go get Tobias a drink, Amelia? He looks like he might need one," Penelope says, her tone saccharine as she lets her fingers trail down his arm like she has any right to touch him.
Is she for real right now?
Tobias doesn't give me time to figure it out. He takes a deliberate step back, his jaw tightening as his voice drops. "Penelope, I'm trying really hard not to be rude here. But this is never going to happen, so take your hand off me."
Penelope's mouth falls open, shock etched on her face as if she can't comprehend that she's just been turned down.
Tobias's eyes soften just a fraction, but his tone remains firm. "Amelia… now, please."
I don’t argue. I step past Penelope, out into the foyer, not bothering to spare her even a quick glance. My heels click against the marble floor as I walk, the noise of the party fading behind me with every step.
"Okay, I get that she's been counting down to this day since before her husband died, but seriously? You couldn't let her have her moment?"
Tobias doesn't move. He's standing there with his hands buried in his pockets, chin low, looking like something carved from shadow and sin.
God, he looks like a fucking savage.
"Is that what you want? Me to go pretend to a woman I can't stand that maybe, if she's lucky, she'll end the night wrapped around my cock?"
This isn't him—not the Tobias I know.
This is something darker, something feral, wearing his skin.
"No, but come on, she's going to go straight to my mom or your dad and probably cry some more fake tears about how you rejected her."
He tilts his head back, eyes searching the ceiling for the patience he lost hours ago.
"I really don't give a fuck, Firefly." Then his eyes snap back to me, blazing with something fierce, and he drops the question like a grenade. "You and Bryce—was there something there?"
"He asked me to prom. That's as far as it went, not that it should matter."
"It matters, Mills."
"Well, it shouldn't," I snap, my frustration spilling over. "Not when you've slept with half the people in this house."
"I get it. Trust me, I really fucking get it." His voice cracks slightly, exposing something raw underneath. "Because I'm jealous of a guy that's never even had you, so I know you must wanna throw hands at some of the people here right now."
"No, Tobias, you'll only get it when you hear me screaming Bryce's name through the fucking wall."
I don't wait for his reaction. I push past him, my chest tight, every nerve in my body screaming at me to get out of there. But before I can take two steps, his hand wraps around my arm. The contact freezes me in place, my pulse thundering in my ears, each beat matching the slow, torturous circles his thumb traces against my skin.
"Don't, Amelia."
Just two words, but they're loaded with enough emotion to drown in. This isn't just anger or jealousy anymore. It's want, denial, and an ache so deep it's tearing him apart from theinside out.
I wrench myself out of Tobias's grip, storming toward the stairs, my chest heaving with frustration. I need to get out of here and put some space between us.
But I don't make it far.
Before I can take another step, my world tilts—literally. Tobias scoops me up like I'm made of air, and my stomach does this weird flip that has nothing to do with suddenly being vertical. Before I can process what's happening, I'm slung over his shoulder, his arm locked around my thighs.
"Tobias!" I bark, my hands smacking against his back. "Put me down!"
My hair falls in my face, and when I push it away, I'm greeted with an infuriatingly perfect view of his ass. Because clearly the universe hates me, and even mid-abduction, the man has to be a walking temptation.
"Wow," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as I squirm against his hold. "Real mature. What's next, you gonna drag me back to your cave?" He doesn't even dignify that with a response. He just keeps walking with a single-minded focus that makes my skin tingle until we're right outside his bedroom door.
His room because he knows I hate mine so much.
He slams the door shut with such force that the frame rattles, and whatever butterflies I had vanish into pure fury as soon as he tosses me onto his bed.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Tobias, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Me?" His chest heaves like he's barely containing himself. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I scramble to my feet, tugging my dress back into place with shaking hands.
"You'll have to elaborate. I don't speak psychopath."
"I'm done, Mills. I'm done dancing around this, done pretending we don't know exactly where this is heading." He steps toward me, closing the distance between us like it's inevitable.
"You need to stop looking at me like that, Tobias."
"Why?" The question slides off his tongue like velvet-wrapped steel, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
He's close now—too close.
"Because this can't happen."
"Because I'm your stepbrother?" His laugh is hollow, knowing just how weak that excuse sounds.
"Amongst other things, yes."
His lips curve into a smile as he steps even closer, his presence suffocating in the best and worst way. "Funny how that little detail doesn't seem to matter when you're in your room at night, alone, touching yourself… moaning my name."
Dear universe, I'm sorry for anything I've ever done to upset the balance of nature that means I deserve this kind of karma, but I'm going to need you to remove me from this earth immediately.
"Look at me like that all you want. It doesn't change what I heard."
"You're an asshole."
"I can live with that." He shrugs, closing what little space remains between us. "Tell me, how often do you lie there thinking about me? About my hands. My mouth. The way I'd ruin you in ways no one else ever could."
My chest tightens as his eyes strip away my defenses one by one, and my feet move before my brain catches up. I make it past him, reaching for the door, desperate for some distance.
"Amelia, stop."
I get the door open an inch before his tattooed hand slams it shut. "Please, baby… please stop." His body becomes a cage of warmth and want, and when his nose traces the curve of my neck, time stops breathing with me. Heinhales deeply, and the sound he makes—something between a growl and a groan—liquifies my spine.
"Turn around." He breathes into my hair, but I'm frozen, caught between fight and flight, my body refusing to obey either instinct. "Please, Firefly."
His hand finds my waist, strong fingers spreading wide before his arm wraps around me with a gentleness that guides me to face him, trapped between his body and the door.
"Tobias…"
"I don't know how to stop wanting you like this. I want you in ways I can't even explain, and it's driving me out of my fucking mind." My gaze inches higher, drawn to his eyes as his breath brushes over mine. Smoke and mint linger there, intoxicating and addictive.
"Whatever you're about to do, don't, because you'll wake up tomorrow and remember exactly who I am to you."
"You think I give a shit that you're my stepsister? I don't. I don't fucking care about anything other than how much I want you." His hand comes up, fingers brushing delicately over my face as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His chest rises and falls against mine, each breath confessing everything we've been too scared to say.
And then, with two words, he sets our world on fire.
"Fuck it."