TOO LATE TO HATE MY ITALIAN STEP-BROTHER

“We are moving in with them, Maya, and that is final.” Maya never thought encouraging her widowed mother to start dating again would lead to this. Coffee dates? Yes. A wedding and relocation to Italy? Never. “But Mom, this doesn’t make sense,” she argued, her voice cracking as she shoved vintage sweaters into a suitcase. The sunlight of their modest California apartment felt like a mockery. “You’ve only known the man for barely six months. You spent three of those in Paris! You can’t just move us to Italy. What about my life? What about Sarah? My senior year?” Janice stopped folding a silk blouse, her expression softening into a look of desperate hope that made Maya’s chest tighten. “Alejandro isn’t just a man, Maya. He’s the first time I’ve breathed in years. He wants us to be a family. You’ll have the best schools, a future you couldn’t dream of here...” “I didn’t ask for a new life,” Maya whispered. But the heavy thud of moving boxes in the hallway told her the battle was already lost. The flight to Milan was a blur of high-end cabin service and internal screaming. By the time the private car pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Moretti estate on the outskirts of Lake Como, Maya felt like she was being led to an expensive execution. The house wasn’t a house; it was a fortress of white marble and ivy, perched on a cliffside as if it owned the water below. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Janice whispered, clutching Maya’s hand. Her mother looked younger than she had in a decade, her skin glowing with a frantic kind of joy. “It looks like a museum,” Maya muttered, stepping out of the car. The air was thicker here, smelling of lemon trees and old, cold money. The massive oak doors swung open before they could reach for the knocker. A man stepped out, and for a second, Maya understood her mother’s madness. Alejandro Moretti was striking silver-flecked hair, a suit that cost more than their old apartment, and a smile perfectly calibrated to put people at ease. “Janice.” Alejandro’s rich Italian baritone filled the air. He took Janice’s face in his hands, kissing her with a hunger that made Maya look at her shoes. “And Maya. Welcome to your home.” “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Moretti,” Maya said, her voice stiff. “Alejandro, please,” he corrected. His eyes didn’t quite reach hers; they were sharp and calculating, like he was checking a balance sheet. “Come. The staff has prepared lunch. And I believe my son has finally decided to grace us with his presence.” The interior of the villa was suffocating. Statues lined the hallways, and the floors were so polished Maya could see her own anxious reflection. They were led into a dining room where the table was long enough to host a board meeting. There, sitting at the far end with his boots kicked up on a velvet chair, was a boy. He wore a black hoodie, the hood pushed back to reveal a mess of jet-black hair. When he looked up, Maya felt the air leave the room. His eyes weren’t just green; they were the color of a stormy sea cold, turbulent, and fixed on her with absolute loathing. “Julian.” Alejandro’s voice lost its warmth, turning into a serrated blade. “Get your feet off the furniture. Say hello to Janice and Maya.” Julian didn't move. He took a slow sip of water, his gaze raking over Janice before settling on Maya. He lingered on her face, her messy ponytail, and her worn-out sneakers. “The help usually uses the back entrance, Dad,” Julian said. His voice was lower than Alejandro’s, raspy and laced with biting sarcasm. Maya gasped. “Julian!” Alejandro hissed. “What?” Julian stood up. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and leanly muscled in a way that suggested constant training. He walked toward them, his movements slow and predatory. “You said we were getting a new collection. I’m just assessing the quality.” He stopped inches from Maya. Up close, he smelled of rain and something metallic-like engine oil. The sea-green eyes were even more piercing now, shielded by thick, dark lashes. Under different circumstances, she would have thought him a Greek god. “You must be the daughter,” he said, hostility dripping from every word. “Maya, right? Tell me, did you help your mom pick out the target, or did she manage to trap a billionaire all on her own?” Maya’s palms clenched. She had spent the day sobbing and wishing her father were still here. She wasn't in the mood for this, yet she stayed silent, her hazel eyes locked on his. “Julian, that is enough!” Alejandro stepped between them, his hand gripping his son’s shoulder with enough force to make Julian’s jaw tighten. “Apologize. Now.” Julian laughed, a short, dark sound without a hint of humor. The hatred between father and son was so thick Maya could taste it. “I’ll apologize when you apologize to Mom for bringing her replacement into her bedroom,” he snapped. Angrily, he wrenched his shoulder away and turned back to Maya. “Welcome to the family, Sis. Don’t worry, I’ll show you around, especially where we keep the skeletons.” He didn't wait for a response. He headed for the grand staircase, his boots echoing like gunshots against the marble. Janice stood frozen, her face pale. “Alejandro, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize...” “Don’t.” Alejandro took Janice’s hand, kissing her knuckles. “He is grieving. He’s been difficult since his mother passed. He just needs time to see what a blessing you both are.” Janice nodded, but worry settled into her eyes. “I don’t want to cause problems. If this is too much for him...” “No,” Alejandro said firmly. “This is your home now. Julian will learn to accept it. He doesn’t have a choice.” Something in his tone made Maya look at him more closely. It wasn’t anger; it was control. Calm, polished, quiet control. For a brief second, she wondered if Julian wasn’t the only dangerous person in this house. Alejandro turned back to her, his expression softening. “Maya, darling, I apologize for his behavior. That was unacceptable. You deserve respect here.” Maya forced a small nod. “It’s fine.” “You must be tired,” Alejandro continued. “Go upstairs and see your room. The third door on the right. It overlooks the lake.” “Thank you... Alejandro,” she corrected softly. She followed a member of the staff toward the grand staircase. As she climbed, the tension Julian had left behind hung in the air like smoke. The house was too quiet now. Like it was watching her. At the top floor, the girl pointed down the hallway. “Third door on the right, signorina,” she said before turning away. Maya stood alone. Across the hallway, a door was slightly ajar. Julian’s door. She stared at it, her stomach tightening. She should go to her room. She should pretend he didn’t exist. But something about the hostility in his eyes made her want to know exactly where the predator was. Slowly, she walked toward her own door. Her fingers hovered over the handle. Maya exhaled and pushed the door open.