His Smile, Tender and Cruel Chapter 1

I'm the adopted daughter.

And I just slept with my brother.

It might have been okay if he were single, but just the other day he asked me, "What kind of things do you girls like?"

I teased him, "Are you telling me I'm getting a sister-in-law?"

"I'm planning on it," he'd said, a casual glint in his eye.

My heart sank into an icy abyss.

Wrecking a relationship is just asking for bad karma.

So, I packed my bags in the middle of the night and left a ridiculous note: "I've found my purpose in life. I'm going to be a wildlife photographer. Off to chase my dreams abroad. Goodbye Mom, Dad, and big brother!"

Two weeks later, I was in the middle of the African savanna, being chased by a pack of hyenas.

A passing jeep screeched to a halt and rescued me.

I was about to pour out my thanks when a pair of warm fingers closed around my wrist, resting on my pulse.

A man's smile, both tender and cruel, met my eyes.

"Get out, little sister," he said. "Or kiss me. Your choice."

* * *

I was an orphan. My earliest memories are of the orphanage.

But I was pretty. And as everyone knows, a pretty face can change your luck.

When I was five, I was adopted.

My new family was wealthy. Like, seriously wealthy. I went from pauper to princess overnight. More than that, my adoptive parents weren't just rich; they were full of love. My dad adored my mom and didn't want her to go through the strain of a second pregnancy, but my mom had always wanted a daughter.

So, they decided to adopt.

I was the lucky one chosen to be their little girl. I also gained an older brother, who was three years my senior.

My parents were wonderful to me, and so was my brother. I finally had a happy family. I always believed that happiness would last forever, that I'd still be a happy old woman at eighty.

If only it hadn't been for the incident.