My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 185

Chapter 185

Gianna

The click of the lock made me snap awake, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. I scrambled to sit up, my hair a mess and my head spinning.

I had no idea how long I’d been out. With no windows to show the sun and no clock on the wall. My phone was gone, likely at the bottom of a sewer as Vincenzo said. After we’d finished our little “negotiation” earlier, I had showered until my skin was pink, scrubbed every trace of that glitter off me, and changed into a light blue summer dress covered in tiny yellow sunflowers.

Then, because my stomach was twisting with hunger and I had nothing left to do, I’d collapsed onto the mattress. It was easily the softest bed I’d ever touched, like sleeping on a cloud made of silk, but the luxury didn’t make me forget I was a prisoner.

Raphael stood in the doorway, looking entirely too put-together while I felt like a mess.

“Finally awake, Princess?” he asked, his voice a low, mocking hum.

I glared at him, my eyes narrowed, “I thought you’d forgotten you had a human being locked in here. Or maybe you were just waiting for me to starve to death?”

Raphael leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arins over his chest, his eyes slowly traveling from my toes up to my face. “You look better in sunflowers than in that silver plastic wig, Mess. It almost makes you look like you have a soul.”

I tilted my head, my voice dropping to a fake, sweet whisper.

“If you keep this up, people are going to start playing Sweet Home Alabama every time we walk into a room together. Is that the vibe you’re going for, Raphael? Are we moving to the mountains to start a commune? Do I need to start calling you ‘Brother-Husband’ or is just ‘Cousin-Lover’ fine for the Christmas card?”

His jaw tightened, a small muscle jumping in his cheek, but a dark, amused spark lit up his eyes. He reached out, his fingers lingering just a second too long as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Don’t be gross, Gianna. Your attempt at low-brow shock humor is beneath your IQ,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite. “Now, are you going to keep talking, or are you ready to go home and tell Vincenzo how mugged’ and ‘scared’ you are?”