Sinful Obsession: My Billionaire Stepbrother

Smooth Trap

Isabel's POV

(Thirty Hours Ahead)

Twenty minutes later, I pushed open a pair of massive oak doors. The dining room glowed under a giant crystal chandelier.

Arthur Sterling sat at the head of the table and laughed at something my mother said.

He looked exactly like his photos: silver at the temples, a sharp suit, and the kind of calm that came from owning continents.

My mother looked like a totally different person. She ditched the struggling mom vibe and draped herself in champagne silk with a diamond necklace. She looked like she lived a rich life forever.

"Bel! You’re here!" She got up and kissed my cheek right away. She smelled like expensive rose oil, not the vanilla lotion I remembered.

"Arthur, this is my Isabel."

Arthur stood up with a warm smile. His eyes looked kind, but sharp—like he already calculated my worth.

"Welcome, Isabel. I hope the flight went okay?"

"It was... fine. Thank you, Mr. Sterling. For everything."

"None of that. Call me Arthur. Come, sit. We just waited for—"

The doors creaked open behind me.

Suddenly, the room felt freezing. The scent of sandalwood and a cold breeze filled the air.

"You're late," Arthur said, though he didn't sound mad at all.

"Meetings ran over."

That deep voice hit the back of my neck like a ton of bricks. I turned around slowly to see who it was.

There he was. The guy from the New York cafe.

Without the dim diner lights, he looked breathtakingly dangerous. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and he looked perfectly polished even with a loosened tie.

He froze instantly. For a split second, it clicked in his eyes—he recognized the girl who spilled the espresso tray. Then, his face turned into a mask, totally unreadable.

"William," Arthur said, totally missing the weird tension in the room.

"You remember I told you about Sarah’s daughter, Isabel? She starts her internship with you on Monday."

William didn't even blink. His eyes moved slowly over me. He looked at my face, then down at the floral dress I wore. It wasn't a nice look; he looked at me like he inspected a roach that crawled onto his expensive rug.

He stepped closer, and his voice dropped to a low tone as he passed me.

"I remember. The girl with the tray."

He brushed his shoulder against mine—just hard enough to give me a jolt, then sat directly across from me.

He stared right at me while he talked to his father.

"I didn't realize the Mayfield girl came as part of the wedding package."

"William, be nice," my mother said with a nervous laugh. "Isabel is brilliant. She plan to be a huge help at the company."

William leaned back, and his fingers tapped consistently on the table. "Is she? Because usually, people in my office actually provide value, Sarah. They don't just sit there and waste my father’s money."

"That's enough," Arthur warned, and his voice got sharp.

Dinner felt like a nightmare.

I stared at my plate, and my throat felt too tight to even swallow any food.

William watched me the whole time. He noticed every time I bit my lip or clenched my jaw, like he was waiting for me to slipped up.

"So, Isabel," he said, and cut off my mother’s talking completely.

"Tell me. What exactly do you think you plan to learn in my department? Besides how to spend my dad's cash?"

The New York temper I tried to hide finally snapped right then.

I dropped my fork, and it hit the plate with a loud clack.

"I expect to work," I said, looking him straight in his whiskey-colored eyes.

"I worked since I was fourteen, Mr. Sterling. I don't want hand-outs. I came here for the job, and I plan to earn every cent."

How did I get to London to end up under the scrutiny of a cold billionaire stepbrother? Well, thirty hours ago...

—-

Joey walked in after the call, she still wore her work smock looking completely wiped out.

She leaned against the doorframe and let out a heavy sigh that told me she already knew everything.

"She called, didn't she?"

"She married, Joey. To Sterling."

Joey let out a long, low whistle. "Well. She always had a thing for the fancy life. What did she go after this time?"

"She wants me to move to London. There’s an internship... It pays for my school and everything. She even said Arthur plan to invest in the salon if I went." I looked up at her, and my eyes started to sting. "She literally used you and my tuition fee to persuade me to go."

Joey walked over and sat next to me, and threw an arm around my shoulders. She smelled like hairspray and peppermint tea.

"Bel, listen to me. You don't owe me a thing. Not a single cent. I didn't take you in because I wanted a paycheck later."

"But I’m five thousand pounds short for tuition, Joey. The college won’t hold my spot after this month. I worked three jobs for three years. If I don’t take this internship, I lose everything."

Joey’s face went hard. "And you think scrubbing floors in Brooklyn NY plan to get you that five grand? No. This Sterling thing became your shot. You take it."

"But the salon—"

"The salon struggled since before you were born, kid. But you? You possessed a brain that could run circles around those people."

She squeezed my arm hard.

"If this became your ticket out of this neighbourhood and into the life you deserved... you took it. You took every penny and you did not look back."

"I don't want to leave you," I said, and finally lost it and started to sob.

"I stayed just a FaceTime call away. Go to England. Show those Sterlings what a Mayfield girl consisted of."

She gave me a small, tired grin. "And if any of them gave you trouble, tell them I kept a pair of thinning shears with their name on it."

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. I packed my entire life into one battered suitcase—my books, my graduation photo, and the few clothes I had that didn't smell like coffee beans. The floral dress Joey bought for graduation was what I planned to put on for the trip.

After hours on the plane, I landed safely. As I pulled my suitcase, the squeaking sound from the cracked wheel echoed across the pavement.

The driver waited already, he stood still and professional without saying anything or acting like he noticed the sound my suitcase made.

He just grabbed it with a gloved hand.

"This way, Miss Mayfield. Mr. Sterling expected you for dinner." The ride to the mansion went quiet and fast.

When we got to the estate, it looked like a white limestone fortress.

The housekeeper looked me up and down like an intruder.

"I am Mrs. Higgins. Your mother got ready. I’ll show you to your room. You have twenty minutes."

"Try not to be late," Mrs. Higgins warned.

"The Master hates it when people arrived late."

—--

When she said 'the Master', I knew this would not be an easy stay.

Now, sitting directly opposite me, the smirk on this Master's face looked dangerous.

I already expected his harsh rebuttal…

"Mr. Sterling is my father," William said, and leaned forward. Then, whispered so the whole room could hear, "You can call me William. After all... we became family now, right?"

He let the threat hang there for a second.

Then his eyes flicked down to my dress one last time, and his lip curled in disgust.

"And Isabel? Do me a favor. Don’t wear floral clothes in my office, or in this house. It looks cheap, and I won't tolerate it."

Heat crawled up my neck.

I thought of Joey, of the salon, of three jobs i had worked and five thousand pounds I needed for school. I thought of William as he watched me spill that coffee, his reaction like I meant nothing.

I shoved my chair back, and the wood screeched against the floor.

"I don’t wear cheap, William," I said, and my voice shook but stayed clear.

"I wear what I earned."

I didn’t wait for them to say anything. I turned and walked out, but felt his eyes burn into my back the entire way…