In Love with my Stepfather

Chapter 9 — She’s Trouble

May’s POV

I slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned against it, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to punch through my ribs.

I remembered!

The second my lips had brushed against his, something had clicked—an image, hazy but searing, flared in my mind.

The man I kissed at the club.

The stranger I made out with like I had no shame.

It had been him.

Carlos.

My stepfather.

I slapped a hand to my mouth as nausea twisted violently in my stomach. I wiped my lips, then again—harder—like I could scrub the memory off out of existence.

I hated him.

More than anyone. More than anything.

And now this?

I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face, but it didn’t help. His face clung to the inside of my head—dark eyes, unreadable, amused. His voice whispering like a curse:

“You kissed me again.”

A shiver of disgust ran down my spine.

And yet, I remembered how my heart had fluttered when he stood too close. His ridiculous height. His intoxicating scent. How much masculine heat he radiated—how infuriatingly sexy he looked in that damn robe.

No. No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

I stared at my reflection, wide-eyed, my hands gripping the sink like it could anchor me. My silk nightgown clung to me like a second skin, damp with sweat. Realizing that Carlos had seen me it it made me feel like ripping it off.

Seconds passed.

Then minutes.

Then I turned away, yanked the nightgown off, and tossed it like it was contaminated. I slipped into the dress I’d worn earlier, grabbed my purse, threw in my phone, snatched my car keys off the dresser, and yanked the door open.

I crept out of the room like a criminal. The hallway was dark, moonlight slicing across the floor. My steps were silent, careful.

I paused at the top of the stairs and scanned the living room from above.

Empty.

Good.

The last thing I needed was to run into him again.

I moved quickly, eyes flitting over every corner like I was prey in unfamiliar territory. My fingers closed around the front door handle.

I didn’t wait. I opened it, stepped out, and shut it behind me with a sharp click.

___________

Back at my apartment, I slammed the door again, locked it, then threw my keys on the table and let my purse fall to the floor.

Silence wrapped around me like a cold, wet blanket.

I poured a glass of juice and took a few shaky sips, but it didn’t settle me. My thoughts were a screaming mess, my skin still crawling.

I needed answers.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and typed in his name.

Carlos Rivas.

Dozens of articles popped up. Business stuff. Mergers. Digital expansion. His marriage to my mother. All corporate garbage.

I scrolled, desperate for something—anything—personal.

There was nothing.

No social media. No family. No birth city. Just that one fact repeated over and over: he’d gone from assistant to vice president in three years. No past. No trace.

It was like he hadn’t existed before L’Wells.

Thirty-three.

Eight years older than me.

I slammed the laptop shut.

Who the hell marries a woman twice his age and takes over her company without leaving a single footprint?

What was he hiding?

And what did he want with my mother?

A cold thought slithered in.

What if it wasn’t about her?

What if it was about me?

No. No. That was ridiculous.

But had he been drunk that night too? He clearly recognized me, so why didn’t he push me away buy kissed me back instead?

I vividly remembered how he had grabbed my waist and kissed me back like he owned me. The way his mouth took control, fierce and demanding. Thinking about it now, it was probably the best kiss I’d ever had.

I curled up on the couch, staring past the glass windows into the city lights, trying to piece my brain back together.

Then came his voice again.

“You kissed me again.”

“I like you better when you’re drunk.”

I groaned and threw the remote across the room. It hit the floor and clattered, battery case flying off.

I couldn’t sleep.

And the worst part?

I didn’t know what was more disgusting—

That I had kissed him…

That I remembered how it felt…

Or that part of me—

craved it.🙆🏼‍♀️

I grabbed my hair and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force it all away.

By the time I finally got into bed, it was almost four a.m.

I lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

I didn’t know when I eventually drifted off to sleep.

Carlos’ POV

I stepped out of the shadows the moment the door clicked shut.

I had been watching the entire time.

From the way she crept out of her room like a cat burglar, to how her eyes darted around the hallway, searching for him like he was the bogeyman. She had looked funny.

She had obviously been trying so hard not to run into me.

It almost made me laugh.

Cute, I thought, the corner of my mouth twitching.

But the amusement didn’t last long. My gaze lingered on the door she’d just slipped through. My jaw tightened as thoughts circled my mind like sharks.

I should hate her. Hell, I wanted to.

But…

The way she had looked at me in the kitchen—like she hated me, like she wanted me, like she didn’t know which one scared her more—it had affected me in a way I didn’t like.

I swore under my breath and shoved a hand through my hair.

She was supposed to be a brat. Selfish. Irritating. The kind of girl you meet once and pray never shows up again.

She wasn’t.

And that was the problem.

If May had been stupid, brainless—just another spoiled rich kid—I could’ve ignored her. But no. She had to be sharp. Had to be gorgeous. Had to be stubborn. Had to get under my skin with those angry eyes and that damn mouth!

I ran a hand down my face.

This is bad.

“She’s trouble,” I muttered. “Pure, walking trouble.”

But the worst part?

I didn’t dislike this trouble.🤦🏼