New Brother

Igniting Fire

Hailey

It was my first day at college. But certainly not the best day to start.

The kitchen incident from yesterday still lingered in my mind like an unwelcome guest. I couldn't shake his words—they circled my thoughts incessantly, relentlessly, constantly. And I'd be lying if I said they didn't send a shiver down my spine every fucking time. The way he said those words... it still made me clench my thighs together. And the way he didn't hesitate for a second before uttering them, so blunt and shameless, it scared a part of me.

For now, I knew—Damien Black had no boundaries. And perhaps, yesterday in the kitchen, I unknowingly shattered the only ones that held him back. Now I wasn't sure if that was a good news for me or a bad one, but it didn't seem like a bad one....a part of me wanted to see how far could Damien go.

"Get a grip, Hailey," I muttered, slipping on my shoes. "You can handle this."

Grabbing my bag, I headed out of the house, knowing Damien would be waiting for me in his car. The maid had briefly informed me about it when she delivered breakfast to my room.

As I stepped out of the mansion, I instantly spotted Damien sitting in his car, casually smoking a cigarette. The sight was somehow intriguing to me. Well, not just intriguing... fascinating even. Even his side profile was perfect—a flawlessly sharp jawline, a sculpted nose, and a hint of those plump lips that had brushed against mine yesterday—he was almost too good to be true.

Our eyes met briefly as I climbed into the car and closed the door shut. "Good morning," I offered awkwardly, but he didn't reply. Jerk.

However, I could feel his eyes scanning me, doing a double take even. For a moment, as he tapped the ash into the ashtray and continued eyeing me, scrutinizing every detail, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Did I overdress? Underdress? I was wearing a simple pair of jeans, a cute white crop top, and some stylish white shoes. Nothing excessive, nothing lacking.

Yet the look on his face made me doubt myself.

"Is there—"

Before I could finish my question, he abruptly started the car, causing my mouth to snap shut. We drove onto the spacious road ahead, the guards opening the mansion's main door as we exited.

In awkward silence, I shifted against the seat, fumbling with my fingers.

As Damien drove, he took the opportunity to retrieve yet another cigarette from his pocket and lit it up before bringing it to his lips. I couldn't help but wonder how many he'd smoked before I arrived. Not that I cared about this jerk's habits.

He smoked and drove as if I were a mere ghost sitting beside him. He made me feel invisible, which I should have been grateful for, but something inside me yearned for his attention, much like yesterday in the kitchen...

It took me a while longer to realize that he was giving me the silent treatment. The reason wasn't hard to guess—I'd called him names I shouldn't have, in response to him saying things he shouldn't have. Another reason could be that he perhaps realized he'd crossed a line with how he threatened to do things to me, but I doubted it. If that were the case, he wouldn't have shamelessly checked me out the moment I entered the car.

So... yeah.

I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from him as he drove. There was something undeniably captivating about him. He was undoubtedly handsome, but even the smallest details, like his stubble, were perfect. With the attention he garnered, he probably had his fair share of encounters with women, and judging by his words yesterday, he likely treated them as nothing more than playthings in bed.

Damien black was a walking red flag.

"You really need to work on that staring," his sudden voice jolted me, causing me to jump in my seat and quickly avert my gaze.

Fuck! He caught me staring at him. I must have made it painfully obvious.

"I definitely wasn't staring at you," I blurted out, attempting to maintain a firm voice, my gaze now fixed outside, suddenly finding a strange fascination with the passing cars—they were unexpectedly the most captivating thing I'd ever seen.

He chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette. "My bad." He exhaled the smoke, some of it drifting into my nostrils but not enough to choke me like a patient with a serious condition.

"People usually need a beautiful face to be stared at," I mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear, but regret washed over me as Damien's gaze hardened on me.

So he heard that...

I stole a glance at him and found him staring back, and now I couldn't look away. God! Why did I always manage to get myself into trouble?

"So, I don't meet your standards?" He arched an eyebrow, unexpectedly leaning in, and I instinctively recoiled against my seat as his face was now too close to mine, "Tell me, what part of my face doesn't live up to your standards?"

I almost had this sick, stupid, infuriating urge to say that everything about him met my standards. Hell, I didn't even have any standards, but looking at him, I could say that—that was my standard. He was the defination of it. And I hated it. I hated that I was so fucking attracted to my stepbrother, whom I couldn't have. I wished he wouldn't make me feel such things, but he did. Every moment of his existence seemed to intensify those feelings, even the simple act of breathing.

He was constantly driving me insane and if he knew it, it'd be even worse.

"You're my brother," I stammered after a tumultuous internal debate, "You shouldn't even be in the vicinity of my standards."

"I'm not your brother, Bunny," he declared, his eyes deadly serious.

"You said it yourself that you're my brother on the wedding day, and now you suddenly don't want to be my brother?"

He chuckled, smoke swirling from his nose. "My prerogative. Besides, I'm not your brother—I'm your stepbrother. We're not even related. So stop labeling me as your brother because I have no fucking intention of being one."

God...

He didn't hesitate in the slightest about his words. Not at all.

I wanted to retaliate, to bombard him with the thousands of questions swirling in my head, but with Damien, silence seemed like the wisest choice, so I opted for what I deemed best.

"Fine..." I stuttered, shifting my focus to the road ahead, away from his distracting face. "If that's how you want it to be—stepbro."

A smirk tugged at his lips before he leaned back, "By the way, if I'm not up to your standards to be stared at, then how come you're having dreams about me?"

My heart skipped a beat at his question, my breath catching in my throat.

"W-what?!"