Stepbrother's Baby (Horny Stepbrother #6)

Chapter 1 The Wedding Night Inheritance

The Maine coastline stretched in jagged lines beneath an overcast sky.

Vesper pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the town car, watching the Atlantic churn against the rocks.

The driver took the private road twenty minutes ago, winding through dense pine forest until the trees broke. The ocean appeared like a wall of gray.

She would rather not come.

Her mother's fourth wedding felt like an obligation, not a celebration.

Vesper spent the last three months in her Boston studio, painting orchids and liverworts for a botanical encyclopedia.

It might never get published. Her body finally stabilized after the last treatments.

Doctors spoke the word "remission" like a gift.

They spoke "infertile" like a footnote. She carried both words in her chest, heavy and unequal.

The car rolled through iron gates. Beyond them, the Thorne estate rose against the cliffside. Three stories of gray stone and weathered cedar dared the ocean to take them. This old money did not need to announce itself.

Vesper waddled out. The salt air hit her face, cold and sharp. Her pale green dress, chosen by her mother, pressed against her thighs in the wind.

She grabbed her bag from the trunk and turned toward the house.

Then she saw him.

He stood at the end of the stone dock over the water. He was tall and broad through the shoulders. His suit looked like a costume. Dark hair was cut short, military-style. His hands hung at his sides. Even from fifty feet away, she saw the tension in his jaw.

Her stomach dropped.

She knew that jaw. She knew how his mouth moved when he spoke. She knew what it felt like against her lips.

Five years ago. A party in Cambridge. She was nineteen, drunk on cheap wine and the thrill of an older, dangerous man noticing her.

He was twenty-four, fresh from his first deployment, all sharp edges and restless energy.

They kissed in a hallway. One kiss. Deep, hungry, and reckless.

His hand gripped her hip. She pressed against him.

For two minutes, the world shrank to the heat of his mouth.

Then someone pulled them apart. A friend. A laugh. The moment fractured.

She never saw him again. She never learned his name.

Until now.

"Vesper!" Her mother's voice cut across the gravel. Elena Nightingale, soon to be Elena Thorne, came down the front steps. She wore a white dress that cost more than Vesper's rent. At fifty-two, she looked forty. Her arms opened wide. "You made it."

Vesper let herself be pulled into a hug that smelled like jasmine and expensive champagne.

"Mom, you look beautiful."

"I look like a woman about to marry for the last time." Elena pulled back and held Vesper's face. "You look thin. Are you eating?"

"I'm fine."

"You're always fine." Elena's eyes softened. "Come inside. I want you to meet someone."

Vesper already knew. She did not know how, but the knowledge sat in her gut like a stone.

They walked through the front doors into a magnificent hall. It had exposed beams and a stone fireplace tall enough to stand in. Wedding flowers lined every surface: white peonies, blue hydrangeas, and an unfamiliar purple flower.

The man from the dock leaned against the far wall. He held a glass of whiskey.

"Vesper, this is Cillian. Cillian Thorne. Richard's son. Your new stepbrother."

The word struck her like a sudden chill.

Stepbrother.

Cillian pushed off the wall. He was taller up close, perhaps six feet, two inches or more. His eyes were dark green, the color of deep water. His eyes locked onto hers with a recognition that made her skin prickle.

He remembered. She saw it when his gaze dropped to her mouth for a half-second before snapping back up.

"Vesper." His voice was low and rough, like gravel over silk. He extended his hand.

She took it. His palm was warm and calloused. When his fingers closed around hers, she felt the memory of that kiss like a burn.

"Cillian," she said.

They held on too long. Elena noticed and smiled.

"Isn't this wonderful? Our families, together." Elena clapped her hands. "Richard's upstairs getting dressed. The ceremony's at six, on the cliff terrace. Cillian, be a dear and show Vesper to her room."

"Of course." He released her hand. "This way."

He led her up a wide staircase and down a hallway lined with oil paintings. Their footsteps fell in sync on the hardwood. Neither spoke. The silence between them was thick with unsaid things.

He stopped at a door near the hall's end and pushed it open. "Guest room. Your mother picked it."

The room was beautiful. It had cream walls, a four-poster bed, and windows facing the ocean. A private bathroom featured a clawfoot tub. Vesper set her bag on the bed and turned around.

He stood in the doorway, filling it.

"You're Richard Thorne's son," she said.

"And you're Elena's daughter."

"Five years ago. That party in Cambridge."

Something shifted behind his eyes. "I didn't know."

"Know what?"

"That our parents were together. I didn't know who you were. I didn't know until three months ago when my father told me he was getting married and showed me a photo of the bride." He paused. "And her daughter."

Vesper's heart hammered. "So you've known for three months that the woman you kissed in a hallway is now your stepsister."

"Stepsister," he said the word as if it tasted wrong. "Yeah. I've known."

"And you didn't say anything."

"What was I supposed to say?" He leaned against the doorframe. "Nice to meet you. We've already had our tongues in each other's mouths?"

The crudeness made her flush. Heat climbed her neck and spread across her cheeks. She turned toward the window so he wouldn't see.

"It was one kiss," she said.

"It was."

"Five years ago."

"Five years ago."

"So it doesn't matter."

She heard him take a breath. When she glanced over her shoulder, his gaze fixed on her. Steady. Hot. Like he remembered the exact feeling.

"No," he said. "It doesn't matter."

The lie sat between them, heavy and obvious.

The ceremony happened on the cliff terrace as the sun set.

Vesper sat in the front row. She watched her mother marry Richard Thorne, a silver-haired man with a firm handshake and kind eyes.

He looked at Elena the way Vesper always wanted someone to look at her.

Like she was the only thing in the room.

Cillian stood beside his father as the best man. He'd changed into a darker suit. His eyes found hers across the terrace, and each time they did, she felt a pull low in her belly she couldn't ignore.

The officiant pronounced them husband and wife. Richard kissed Elena. The guests applauded. Champagne flowed.

Vesper drank two glasses too fast. She cornered Cillian near the bar during the toasts.

"We need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There is. Your father just married my mother. That means we'll be in each other's lives now. I'd rather we address the elephant in the room than pretend it's not there."

He set his glass down. "The elephant being that we kissed once."

"The elephant being that we kissed once and now we're stepsiblings, yes."

"I told you. It doesn't matter."

"You keep saying that, but you won't stop looking at my mouth when you say it."

His jaw tightened. She watched the muscle flex. Something dark moved behind his eyes. For a moment, she thought he might close the distance between them.

Instead, he waddled back. "You're right. We're family now. That's all this is."

Before she could respond, Elena's voice rang out across the terrace.

"Everyone! Richard and I have an announcement!"

The guests gathered. Elena stood on the terrace steps with Richard's arm around her waist, glowing.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Elena said. "For a year."

Murmurs from the crowd.

"A year-long honeymoon cruise. Mediterranean, South Pacific, everywhere we've ever wanted to go," Elena beamed. "While we're gone, Vesper and Cillian will stay at the estate to handle some family business."

Vesper's stomach dropped. She looked at Cillian. His expression had gone blank. He didn't seem surprised.

"You knew," she mouthed.

He didn't answer.

The reception continued. Vesper danced with a cousin, ate cake she could not taste, and watched Cillian move through the crowd. He moved with controlled grace, like a soldier. Everything about him was disciplined and measured. Yet, his eyes tracked her across the room.

At eleven, Richard called for attention.

"One more piece of business," he said. "My mother's estate.

She passed last year, and her will has been in probate.

The estate passes to biological grandchildren.

Cillian is her only biological grandchild.

However, the will requires a co-executor to live on the property for twelve months to finalize the transfer.

Since Cillian and Vesper will reside here... "

He trailed off, smiling as if this were a pleasant arrangement.

Vesper felt the walls close in. A year. In this house. With him.

After the guests left and Elena and Richard retired, Vesper found Cillian on the back terrace. He stood at the stone railing, looking out at the black ocean. The wind pushed his hair. He'd loosened his tie.

"Did you know about the will?" she asked.

He did not turn. "I knew about the estate. I knew about the biological grandchild clause. I did not know your mother would name you as co-executor."

"So we are both trapped here."

He turned then. Moonlight caught his face, showing sharp angles and deep shadows. "You could leave. Find another place to stay. Your mother would understand."

"She would not. She has planned this for months. She thinks this is quality family time." Vesper crossed her arms against the cold. "And I do not have money to live elsewhere for a year. My illustration work barely covers rent."

He studied her. "Then we coexist. We stay out of each other's way. We handle the paperwork and move on."

"That simple?"

"That simple."

She nodded. The wind picked up, and her dress fluttered against her legs. She shivered.