He’s My Stepbrother. And My Secret Lover Chapter 2

I didn’t reply to Rowan’s messages all afternoon, but he didn’t give up like I’d hoped.

My screen lit up again and again. His messages were relentless.

“Talk to me, Carrie. Don’t pretend you’re not there.”

“How about we meet tonight? I’ll pick you up.”

“Or I have a business trip overseas next month. Want to come with me?”

Then, two photos of impeccably decorated apartments appeared on my screen.

One was a high-rise flat overlooking the city lights, all minimalist black, white, and gray.

The other was a penthouse duplex with a sunroom, cozy and private.

“Which one do you like?” his next message read. “Pick one. I’ll have someone help you move. Don’t bring much; I’ll buy you whatever you need.”

I stared at the screen and sighed.

There it was again.

He was always so damn bossy, arranging my life for me without even asking.

I had to admit, I’d grown to rely on his presence over the past two years. The way he singled me out made my heart flutter.

But he was acting more and more like a patriarch, trying to cage me in his territory with his immense wealth.

I didn’t want to be a canary in a gilded cage.

I flipped my phone face down on the desk, biting my lip. I decided to give him the silent treatment.

The minutes ticked by.

Five minutes later, a new message lit up the screen. This time, just three words, dripping with his unyielding authority.

“Answer the phone.”

My heart skipped a beat.

He was serious.

Ever since we’d met online, I’d made it clear: no calls, no video.

We’d never even sent voice notes.

The most I’d ever seen of him were his hands or a shirt cuff in the occasional photo he sent.

The most he’d ever seen of me was my shadow on the ground in a picture I’d taken.

Before I could figure out how to refuse, the screen flashed with an incoming voice call.

The sudden ring sent a jolt of panic through me. I fumbled to hit decline, but my finger slipped and hit the green answer button instead.

I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I scrambled to hang up, but his voice came through first.

“Don’t hang up.”

A deep, slightly raspy voice came through the speaker. It carried the lazy authority of a man in charge, but underneath, there was a hint of tenderness I couldn’t quite place.

The voice was magnetic, and for some reason, strangely familiar.

“Eight o’clock tonight. I’m sending a car for you.” His tone left no room for argument. “Don’t say no. Be good.”

That “be good” sent a shiver down my spine.

I couldn’t let him keep leading me around like this.

I snapped back to reality, my face burning as I slammed the hang-up button.

Taking a deep breath, I opened our chat and my fingers flew across the keyboard:

“Rowan, thanks for everything these past two years. This isn’t working for me. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

“Don’t contact me again. We’re over.”

I hit send.

To stop myself from caving, I grit my teeth and blocked his number.

After it was all done, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. But my chest felt hollow.

Ding.

Just then, my phone lit up again.

It was a text from an unknown number.

“Breaking up isn’t your call to make.”

“I’ve been holding back these past two years, trying to give you space. I can find out who you are and where you live anytime I want. The only reason I haven’t is because you didn’t want me to, not because I couldn’t.”

“Darling, if you dare to run, I’ll drag you back myself and lock you by my side.”

I stared at the words on the screen, my fingers curling into a fist.

That possessive, obsessive tone. He wasn’t even trying to hide his aggression.

My heart pounded in my chest. I was finally realizing just what kind of dangerous man I’d gotten myself involved with.