How I Married My Stepbrother

Chloe's POV

"You haven't seen him in four years. Why are you preparing a welcome party? For all I know, he's probably not worth it."

"He's worth it," I muttered under my breath.

"We are sorry, young master, but my husband's son is just coming back from the military. This is all we can do for him. But if you insist, we can cancel the party," my mother said, and I wanted to disown her on the spot.

"No, it's fine. I'll just stick around to see him before leaving."

"Thank you very much, young master. You're so kind," my mother replied, nearly kneeling. I hated her even more for the fact that she couldn't stand up for herself—or for me.

"Young master? Mom, he is just eighteen and we are classmates!" I lamented, frustrated by how crazy my life was.

"You keep quiet and help with the decorations."

And so, I did just that.

My mom married Jayden's dad when I was twelve. Jayden and I shared a strong bond during the two years we spent together before he left for his active service in the military.

I missed him so much that I called every day, despite knowing he wouldn't pick up. No doubt, he would have over a thousand messages in his voicemail from me.

"Don't touch that. My fiancée shouldn't be doing such measly things!" Shawn said, and I froze as he hugged me from behind, placing a kiss on my neck and shoulder.

My mom had chosen this revealing dress because she knew he was coming. I hated that I had no choice.

"Let me go. People are watching," I protested, trying to free myself, but his hand slid to my chest, giving me a hush squeeze.

"So what? Can't I hug my fiancée?"

When I turned sixteen, my stepdad got into a huge debt with a big company—one that happened to belong to Jayden. The only way to settle that debt and secure a promotion in both status and workplace was by engaging me to marry Jayden when I turned twenty-one.

It was a proposal my mom didn’t hesitate to accept—not when she heard about the expensive travels and vacations she'd enjoy as Jayden's mother-in-law. Now, I’m bound by that.

"Or are you shy? Do you want us to do it inside instead?" Shawn started tugging at the neckline of my low-cut gown, just enough to expose my bra.

"No, that’s not it. You know I’m just seventeen—we can’t do this until I turn eighteen," I said, though every day I prayed to all the gods in this world that a miracle would happen before next Saturday. Just seven days from now.

"And baby, I can’t wait to throw you the most expensive birthday party of your life—and then claim you as mine afterward," he whispered. The connection point between my neck and shoulder was his favorite part of my body.

I knew that because Shawn suckled on it every time he hugged me from behind, sometimes leaving bite marks.

I hated it—every bit of it—but I had no choice.

"I don't see your brother coming home anytime soon, so I'll leave. I have a party to attend, and since you’ve rejected me now," he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his boner, "I'll have no choice but to turn to the pretty girls at the club." Then he let go of me, not caring if I fell or not.

At least I was more than glad we weren’t breathing the same air anymore as I listened to the sound of his Bugatti leaving the compound.

I sank to my knees, facepalming with no tears left to cry.

All I could do was stare blankly at the other side of the room. I didn’t know how much time had passed until a pair of grey boots came into view.

They were approaching me, and my eyes traced the long legs up until they met the owner—camouflage-colored cargo pants and all—standing right in front of me.

"I'm sure I said I'd be arriving by six p.m. I was so sad when my dear sister wasn’t there to welcome me at the door."

That voice.

"Jayden." My breath shook as I looked up at the handsome face of my brother—the one I’d been wanting to see for the past four years.

"Why didn’t you come out earlier? It’s eight-thirty and you were nowhere around. The party was so damn boring and worthless without you here. Mom said you went out with your little boyfriend, but I thought I'd look around just in case," he rambled.

Jayden was never much of a talker, and I liked him because I could share a silent space with him and still feel relaxed. I helped myself to my feet but stumbled back. He caught me, only to lose his own footing and fall against me, my back pressing against the wall.

His hand on my waist and the alcoholic breath fanning my face didn’t deter me from looking into his green eyes, taking a better look at his flushed face.

He looked more masculine now. His features were more defined, and his nose seemed sharper.

"Nothing to say? I missed you so much, sis," he said, his left hand still holding my waist and his right gripping the liquor bottle.

"Why won’t you say something, huh? Use those lips of yours for your big bro," he pressed.

He wanted desperately for me to say something, but my mind was crowded—crowded by how a man could be so handsome that I couldn't help but raise my hand to his jaw.

My index finger traced from the tip of his nose downward, stumbling on his lips. I felt myself rising on tiptoes, tilting my head to the side.

His face remained still, and while I didn’t know what I was doing, I felt like I was close—so close—until everything suddenly turned awkward when he let go of me and pushed the bottle to my face.

"Want some liquor?"

"I can’t have that. I’m underaged," I said, turning away.

"Okay then, how about we go to my room and I show you what I got for you," he said, holding my hand. I couldn’t refuse anyway, so I followed him, and in no time, we were climbing the stairs.

I was excited for some reason. For the past two years, I’d taken on the responsibility of cleaning his room myself. I was the only one with the spare key—no maid was allowed in.

It just felt too personal to let anyone else do it. I went in alone every time I missed him or wanted to clean, but it was different today.

He closed the door behind me and tossed the key aside before backing me against it, his hand resting in the space above my head.

"Tell me you missed me, Chloe," he said, and I felt my eyes grow misty.

"I’ve missed you calling my name. Why didn’t you ever pick up your calls? You never replied to my voicemails. You never returned my letters. You—"

I was cut short when his mouth crashed onto mine.