Mated To My Obsessive Stepbrother novel Chapter 211

A slow, simmering heat crawled under my skin, spreading like molten iron through my veins. It wasn’t just anger–it was something darker, something razor–sharp and corrosive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words came out low and controlled, but there was no mistaking the venom dripping from each syllable.

Yet, there she stood, smiling like an airheaded debutante who hadn’t yet figured out she was walking straight into a lion’s den because she still wore that stupid smile on her face.

“I am having trouble picking out the perfect color combinations for the engagement party, baby,” she replied, letting out a breath of exhaustion. Her shoulders sagged for dramatic effect as though she carried the weight of the gods on her back.

Baby?

My jaw twitched.

She now calls me that?

If only she could see anything past the bridge of her nose, she’d realize she had no fucking business being this excited about any of this.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Before I could answer, she breezed past me, her perfume invading my space like an unwelcome guest overstaying their welcome. “You won’t believe how hot it is out there! Jeez!” She breathed in some fresh air.

Then she stopped short.

Her body stiffened, and I watched–half–amused, half–irritated–as her eyes locked onto Norlan.

“Oh,” she murmured, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she smoothed out her

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Chapter 211

expression. “Didn’t know you had company. Her gaze flicked back to me before landing on Norlan again. “Hello, Norlan.”

June perched herself on the armrest of the couch, crossing one leg over the other like this

was some cozy little planning session and not a violation of my patience.

“So,” she started, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “How many guests are we

expecting?”

I didn’t answer.

Norlan did when he sensed I wouldn’t say a word to her. And I wasn’t surprised.

“Around two hundred, I suppose,” he said casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“Unless Kester’s got a secret list of enemies he plans to invite just for the drama.”

I shot him a glare. He grinned.

June, oblivious as ever, clapped her hands together. “Perfect! That means we’ll need to

finalize the seating arrangements soon.”

I leaned back against the couch, silently watching.

Watching how she acted like this was normal. Like this wasn’t a goddamn circus she was

organizing with me as the unwilling clown.

Watching how Norlan’s eyes kept drifting to her, the way they had back in college.

He wasn’t even subtle about it.

Not that I cared.

If anything, I almost wanted to throw her in his direction. Hell, I’d even pay for their first

date.

“What about colors? I was thinking something elegant–maybe a mix of silver and navy? Or do you think something warmer, like champagne and blush?”

Again, silence from me.

And again, Norlan stepped in.

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“I’d say navy and silver suit you,” he mused, tilting his head as he studied her. “Classy, a little bold, but not too over the top. Fits the image you like to project.”

She beamed as if that was the best compliment she’d received all year.

“And my dress?” She turned to me, expectant. “Should I go with something traditional, or

should I-

“Norlan,” I cut in, “since you’re so invested, why don’t you help her pick out the goddamn

dress too?”

Norlan chuckled, unbothered. “You’re really making me work for this free whiskey, huh?”

June let out a light laugh.

The way she prattled on, the way she didn’t notice–or didn’t care–that my silence was

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She let out an effortless smile, oblivious to whatever she was stirring within my friend – I don’t give a fuck about it, though,

Norlan’s fingers tapped against his knee in a slow and thoughtful manner. And then, for

the briefest second, his gaze dropped to the curve of her jaw. But he caught himself

quickly, masking it behind another sip of whiskey.

I said nothing. Just leaned back, taking in the silent struggle playing out across his face.

June, still focused on her tab, kept talking. Something about floral arrangements now.

And Norlan–he responded when necessary and played along, but there was something off

about the way he did it. A fraction too careful.

Because June wasn’t his to want.

She never had been.

And yet, his eyes kept betraying him.

Like now–when she tilted her head, her hair slipping over one shoulder, and his gaze flickered down before he could stop it.

My best friend was losing his grip.

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“I can’t decide between peonies or garden roses,” June mused, tapping a finger against E chin. “Peonies feel more elegant, but garden roses have that classic charm.”

Norlan swallowed hard, then forced himself to smirk. “Oh, is this where I’m supposed to pretend I have a strong opinion on flowers?”

She laughed, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

His lips parted like he wanted to say something–something real, something he’d never slip–but he hesitated. And that hesitation cost him.

June had already moved on, already typing something else into her Tab.

I watched Norlan’s jaw tighten, his grip on his glass, just a little too firm.

The poor bastard.

He was holding on to something he wasn’t even allowed to reach for.

And she completely, stupidly, recklessly–didn’t even see it.

Maybe if she had, she would have left me the fuck alone.