Claimed by His Stepbrother

Chapter 05-Evelyn

When I got back from my outing, Paul was waiting in the bedroom, his tablet propped on his knee, his expression hard, almost tired. He looked up when I stepped in, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Mi amor," he said, patting the mattress beside him. "There's news. We've been invited to a gala in Paris tomorrow. It's a big deal."

My chest lifted. Paris, A gala. That was our thing and we never missed them. But before the excitement could settle, his smile slipped.

"But..." he sighed, rubbing his temple, "I can't go."

I froze halfway out of my heels. "What do you mean, you can't go? Paul, you've never missed one. Not once."

He tossed the tablet aside with a little too much force. "There's a contract I've been chasing. If I don't lock it down now, I'll lose it. And you know who." His voice carried a bite. He didn't need to say Adrian's name.

I unclipped my earrings slowly, trying not to show my disappointment. "Couldn't it wait just two days?"

"Not this one." He reached for my hand, the edge softening. "I need you to go, Evelyn. Represent us. Look beautiful like you always do. Make them remember who we are."

I pouted without meaning to. "But it won't be the same without you."

He forced a smile, cupping my cheek. "You'll dazzle them. You always do. And once I close this deal, we'll celebrate in Paris-our way."

I nodded, though it didn't feel like enough.

***

The flight was smooth, the one hour-long drive wasn't that smooth. By the time we reached the hotel, my body ached. Camille, my secretary, slipped out of the car with her usual fixed look , already giving orders like she hadn't sat still for hours.

"Three days cleared for you," she said as a bellboy wheeled our bags. "Fittings tomorrow, gala the following night. Interviews pushed to next week. You'll have some air to breathe here."

I gave her a grateful smile. Camille had been with me since the start of Maison Evelyn-what began as perfume lines had grown into couture and jewelry. It was my own world, carved out beside Paul but not under his shadow. Thinking of it comforted me.

The Royal Hotel pulled me in at once. The walls dripped with gold, chandeliers dangled like frozen fireworks, and the ceilings stretched forever. Opulence in every detail.

"This is your first time here?" Camille asked.

"Yes," I murmured. "Paul and I always stayed somewhere else. Never here."

I was already wondering why though.

Later, alone in my suite, the city lights spilled in through the tall windows. Paris glittered, alive, but it only made me feel hollow. Maybe that was why I slipped into a gown, let my hair down, and wandered out, telling myself I just wanted to explore.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. I stepped inside, eyes fixed on my phone. Camille's reminders, Clara snaps to me, Paul's short message, a flood of emails. My reflection flickered in the mirrored walls, gown glowing.

Then a sound which was low and deliberate disrupted my moment. A throat cleared.

I looked up.

Adrian Blackthorne leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a phone he clearly wasn't using. His eyes met mine, unflinching.

"Well," he said, his voice deep, laced with amusement. "Nice to see you again, Evelyn."

My pulse tripped. "I..." Words tangled. "I didn't know you'd-"

Before I could finish, the elevator jolted violently, cutting me off. Lights flickered, the box shuddered to a stop. I stumbled in my flats, slipping.

Strong hands caught me, yet again. His hands. One at my waist, the other steadying my arm, pulling me close before I could hit the ground.

Heat surged through me, his touch burning through silk and skin. My hair brushed his chest, and the scent of him wrapped around me.

For a suspended moment, nothing existed but him. The press of his body, his breath grazing my temple, the dangerous closeness of a man I should never want.

The silence of the elevator stretched, too heavy, too charged. My heartbeat thundered loud enough I was sure he could hear.

"Careful," he murmured. "Wouldn't want Paris to start with you on the floor."

I swallowed hard, trying to step back, but my body betrayed me, leaning just slightly into his hold.

Trapped between floors, trapped in his gaze, I didn't know what terrified me more- was it being stuck here with Adrian Blackthorne, or wishing the elevator never moved again?