My One-Night Stand Is My Billionaire Stepbrother.

Chapter 15

The VIP lounge of the Plaza was slightly quieter, but the tension inside me was screaming.

For the last forty-five minutes, Carter Vance had been shadowing my every move. He had brought me champagne, laughed at my quiet jokes, and made it abundantly clear to everyone in the room that he was highly interested. Richard had watched the interaction with a look of quiet approval, a match between a Kingston stepdaughter and the Vance heir would be a massive public relations and financial coup, but Ethan was unraveling.

I could see him from across the room, standing with a group of older board members. He wasn't listening to them. His slate-grey eyes were locked onto Carter, tracking every time the man’s hand brushed my elbow, every time he leaned in close to whisper in my ear. Ethan’s jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle was pulsing frantically under his skin.

"Excuse me, Carter," I said, feeling suffocated by the heat of the room and the weight of Ethan's glare. "I need to find the restroom."

"Of course, darling," Carter smiled, offering me a slow, wink. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

I walked quickly out of the VIP lounge, navigating the quiet, dimly lit marble corridors of the hotel's upper gallery. I just needed to breathe. I needed to get away from the flashing lights, from the fake smiles, and from the agonizing choice I was being forced to make.

I walked into a quiet, recessed alcove near the stained-glass windows overlooking Central Park. The cold glass felt wonderful against my forehead as I leaned against it, closing my eyes.

"Are you enjoying his attention?"

The growl was so sudden, so violent, it made me gasp.

I spun around, but before I could even draw a breath, a massive hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me deep into the shadows of the alcove. My back hit the cold marble pillar with a soft thud, and suddenly, Ethan’s heavy, muscular frame was pinning me in place.

His tuxedo jacket was open, his white shirt slightly rumpled, and his eyes were wild with a primal, possessive fury I had never seen before.

"Ethan, let me go!" I whispered, frantically looking around the empty hallway.

"Someone will see us!"

"Let him see," Ethan hissed, his face coming down so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His grip on my wrist tightened, pinning it above my head against the marble. "Let Carter Vance see exactly who you belong to before he tries to lay his hands on you again."

"I don't belong to anyone!" I spat back, tears of anger and frustration pricking my eyes. "You made your choice, Ethan! You chose the 'united front.' You told me to play the part. I am playing the part! If Richard wants me to talk to Carter.."

"I don't give a damn what my father wants," Ethan snarled, his control completely shattering.

His free hand gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin as he tilted my face up. "I watched him touch you, Aurora. I watched him look at you like he had the right. If he looks at you like that again, I will ruin him. I will ruin his family, and I will ruin this entire acquisition."

"Ethan, please," I sobbed, my heart racing. "We can't do this. The baby... our parents..."

"To hell with the baby," he whispered desperately. "To hell with all of them."

He bent his head, slamming his mouth onto mine with a devastating, possessive hunger that stole the air from my lungs. It was a kiss of pure, territorial rage, he was claiming me, marking me, destroying any lingering doubt that we could ever be just brother and sister.

I whimpered, my hands finding his chest, trying to push him away but ending up clutching his shirt, pulling him closer as the intoxicating, forbidden fire consumed us both in the shadows.

Click!

The sudden, sharp sound of a digital camera shutter echoed through the quiet marble hallway.

We both froze, our lips parting as we snapped our heads toward the opening of the alcove.

Standing in the dim light of the corridor, a sleek smartphone raised in his hand, was a young, ambitious-looking reporter from the New York Chronicle. He was smiling, his thumb hovering over the screen.

"Well, well," the reporter whispered, his eyes gleaming with the predatory excitement of a man who had just hit the jackpot. "The Kingston step-siblings. This is going to be the front page of the morning edition.”