Stepbrother Mine : A Forbidden Romance

Three

"Isabella, meet Weston, your new stepbrother."

This had to be a joke. Maybe this was all an elaborate prank my mother had come up with. Stepbrother? I didn’t even know she was getting married in the first place.

My mind froze in further realisation. Oh my god. Had she set up this lunch date to announce her marriage? She never mentioned a single thing to me.

My mother read the shock on my face and had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m so sorry. Arthur and I wanted to announce it when you both arrived. I was so excited that you two met that it completely slipped my mind.”

I nodded. Like a robot, I followed her back to our table. Weston followed with a wooden walk, saying nothing to anyone. I couldn’t get a good read on his mood. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and pants. It was a simple outfit but on him, it looked worthy of a magazine cover. My eyes caught on his hair; it looked wet as if he’d jumped straight out of a shower and rushed here. Seeing how much later he was than me, that was likely the case.

Arthur looked up at our approach. He levelled my mother with a smile but when his eyes turned on his son, they went cold.

“You’re late,” Arthur said. His voice sounded just as cold as his look.

“I told you I had practice,” Weston grumbled.

“You should always make time for your family.”

“What, like you have? You always have so much time for your conquests and none for your actual family.”

My mother looked between them awkwardly. Her hand wrapped around Arthurs which had clenched into fists on the table.

“I thought this would go much smoother but better late than ever. Arthur and I decided to get married,” she said.

I smiled for her sake, but it felt fake and frozen on my face. I nodded and snuck a look at the brooding man beside me. His face was carefully blank.

“Well, actually, we already got married. We decided we didn’t want the hustle of planning a wedding so we went to court and just, did it.”

I nodded at her but I couldn’t find the words to say. There was so much I was trying to process. A part of me was also a little sad that my mother had decided to do such a thing without a word to me. I knew she didn’t need my permission; I would just have liked to know. I didn’t even know she was ready for marriage again.

Weston took a sip of his water. He didn’t look like he had any intention of digging into his food any time soon.

“I hope he signed a prenup,” Weston said.

My mother’s face fell while Arthur’s face was a picture of rage.

My mother tried for a bright smile again. “I’m so sorry for springing this on you out of nowhere, it must be quite a shock.”

Weston snorted. “Not as much of a shock as you think, I’m sure.”

“Weston! This is your stepmother. You will show some respect!” his father exclaimed.

Weston set down his glass. He straightened up and met his father’s eyes. “I am sorry for being rude. I’ll be sure to work on my manners for your next wife.”

With those words, he pushed from the table and stormed out of the restaurant.

Arthur quickly composed himself, his visible anger from before gone so fast it was like a distant memory. “I’m sorry about him. He’s wild and spoiled. His mother never knew how to say the word no and now we’re all suffering for it.”

“I-It’s okay. I’m sure it was just a lot for him,” my mother stammered. She looked sad and withdrawn. I hated that he had put that look on her face. This union was a shock to me too but I was grown up enough to realize that this wasn’t about me and my feelings. I would never speak the way he had to my mother’s chosen partner.

I looked to where he had disappeared. The nerve of him was astounding. And leaving that expensive food to be thrown out? Utterly inexcusable.

I excused myself from the table and stormed through the building looking for him. He couldn’t have gone that far.

I saw him about to exit out of the main building entrance. My hand was on his shoulder and I was jerking him to face me. He turned his wild gaze on me. He was pissed off. Good, I was pissed off too.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Oh, it’s you. I’m half shocked you haven’t thrown up on me or pushed me into a pool.”

“First, I didn’t push you into a pool; I tripped and you happened to fall with me. Second, this isn’t about the messed-up history between you and me.”

“History? You must be more delusional than I originally thought, Freckles. There is no history between us. You are nothing but a stranger to me. You, along with that woman.”

He said the words ‘that woman’ like an insult. I glared at him.

“That woman is my mother.”

“Another gold digger my father picked up off who knows where. God knows they hang around him in droves. She must be working her skills hard for that fat cheque. Who knows, she might last longer than the previous ones; you can never know when my father will get tired of them.”

I was gonna slap that smirk off his face. My hand was moving before I knew it. His hand came up and grabbed my wrist before I could make contact with his cheek. The look on his face would almost be comical if it weren’t also absolutely terrifying.

“Don’t you ever speak about my mother that way,” I said through clenched teeth.

“What way? Is saying the truth a bad thing now?”

“I will take your abuse, but I draw the line at you insulting my mother.”

He smirked. He used his hold on my wrist to pull me close to him. He had about a hundred pounds on me so I was yanked like I weighed nothing. I tried to shake his hold but it was about as useful as a child trying to break out of an adult’s hold.

He leaned towards me and simply stared at me.

“You would take my abuse, would you? I bet you, you would love every second of it,” he said in a rough voice that would make a nun drop to her knees and blaspheme.

My eyes widened at his words and their insinuation.

“How dare you,” I said in a scandalised voice. His eyes moved behind me, over my shoulder, before turning back to me. There was an inky darkness within them.

“Have fun playing family with my father’s money,” he said. He pushed me away from him and turned away. He was out of the doors in moments.

I was left glaring at his back, trying to ignore my suddenly laboured breathing.

“Isabella? What’s going on?” my mother said, showing up from behind me. She looked worried. “Did he say anything to you?”

I shook my head, wanting her to drop the subject. I was left reeling with the memory of that stormy stare.