Claimed By My Billionaire Stepbrothers

Asher moved faster than I thought possible. He was on his feet, positioning himself between me and Julian.

"Get out," Asher said, his voice deadly calm.

Julian's jaw worked. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I said, get out."

"She's going to be our stepsister!"

"I'm aware."

"Then what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Asher's hands clenched. "Nothing you haven't already tried."

The words hung in the air.

Julian's eyes cut to me, and something raw flashed across his face. Hurt. Jealousy. Betrayal.

"I never-" He stopped. "I didn't know who she was."

"Neither did I. Not when it mattered."

"When it-" Julian laughed, bitter. "You painted her three weeks ago, Asher. You knew exactly who she was the moment Father announced his engagement."

My stomach dropped. "You knew?"

Asher turned to me, and the guilt in his eyes confirmed everything.

"You knew," I repeated, my voice rising. "You knew who I was, who my mother was, and you painted me anyway. You let me walk into this room, you told me about my father, you-"

I couldn't finish. My hands shook as I clutched the drop cloth tighter.

"Maya, let me explain."

"Explain what? That you manipulated me? That this was all some kind of game?"

"No." Asher reached for me, but I jerked back. "I didn't plan this. Any of this. I painted you because I couldn't stop thinking about you, and yes, I knew who you were when your mother got engaged, but that didn't change-"

"It changes everything!"

"Does it? Would you rather I'd stayed away? Let you walk through this party alone, let Dominic tear you apart, let Julian charm you with his lies?"

"I met her first," Julian said quietly.

Both Asher and I turned to stare.

Julian's hands were in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. But his eyes burned.

"I saw her at the coffee shop three weeks ago. Before you painted her. Before you knew anything about her." He looked at me. "I asked you out before I knew who you were. Before I knew your mother was marrying my father."

"And then?" My voice shook. "You knew at the party. You knew when I walked in, and you said nothing."

"What was I supposed to say?" Julian's laugh was self-deprecating. "I panicked. I thought if I stayed away, maybe it would be easier."

"Easier for who?"

"For all of us." He took a step into the room. "But clearly, I'm not the only one who can't stay away."

Asher's jaw tightened. "Julian-"

"Save it." Julian's eyes found mine again, and the heat in them made my breath catch. "I wanted you first. Remember that."

He turned and walked out.

My legs gave out. I sank onto the couch, still wrapped in paint-stained canvas.

Three brothers. I'd kissed-and more-with two of them. In one night.

What was wrong with me?

"Maya." Asher knelt in front of me. "I'm sorry. I should have told you I knew who you were. But everything I said about your father-that's real. And what I feel for you-"

"Don't." I couldn't hear this right now. "Just... don't."

I stood, searching for my dress. Found it crumpled by the easel. The zipper was broken.

Perfect.

"Take my shirt," Asher offered. "It's paint-stained, but-"

"Fine."

I let the drop cloth fall. Asher's sharp intake of breath made me pause.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Not for what we did. I could never be sorry for that. But for the lies."

I pulled on his shirt. It hung to mid-thigh, covered in blue and gold and crimson smudges.

"My father." I forced the words out. "You said he was investigating corporate fraud. Who?"

"Victor Castellan."

The name meant nothing. "Who is he?"

"Father's biggest rival. They were partners once. Then something went wrong, and they've been at war ever since." Asher gathered the scattered papers, handing them to me. "Your father was Castellan's accountant. He found evidence of money laundering, fraud, bribery. He was going to expose everything."

"And Castellan killed him?"

"I think so. But I can't prove it. Not yet."

I stared at the papers, my father's name jumping out from financial statements.

"Why do you care? About my father, about me, about any of this?"

Asher was quiet for a long moment.

"Because three years ago, I was engaged. Her name was Sophie. She was investigating Castellan too. For a journalism piece. And then her car went off a bridge."

My heart stopped. "Asher-"

"Everyone said it was an accident. But I knew." His hands fisted. "I've been gathering evidence ever since. Your father's case is part of a pattern."

"And my mother married his enemy."

"Yes."

"Does Richard know? About my father?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." Asher met my eyes. "Father doesn't do anything without calculation. If he married your mother, there's a reason."

The implication hit me like a fist.

"My inheritance." The words tasted like ash.

I'd learned about it only last week. A letter from a lawyer, explaining that my grandmother had left me millions. Locked away until I turned twenty-five or married.

"I don't know for sure," Asher said carefully. "But it would make sense."

I laughed, high and brittle. "So my mother is marrying a man who might be using her. I'm about to become stepsiblings with three men I've-" I couldn't finish. "And the man who killed my father is still out there."

"Yes."

At least he was honest.

I gathered my things-my broken dress, my shoes, the folder. "I need to leave."

"Maya-"

"Please." I looked at him. "I need to think. I can't do it here."

Asher nodded slowly. "Okay. But take this." He pulled a phone from his desk drawer. "Burner. My number's already programmed. If you need anything-call me."

I took the phone. Our fingers brushed.

"I meant what I said," Asher whispered. "I see you, Maya. All of you. And I'm not sorry for tonight."

My throat closed. I turned and walked out before I could do something stupid like kiss him again.

The hallway was empty. I made my way down stairs, through corridors that all looked the same.

A door opened ahead.

Dominic stepped out.

He was no longer in his tuxedo jacket, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, bow tie hanging loose.

His eyes widened when he saw me. Took in Asher's paint-stained shirt, my bare legs, my tangled hair.

His expression went carefully blank.

"Maya."

"Don't." I couldn't handle another confrontation.

But Dominic caught my arm as I tried to pass. "Whose shirt?"

"None of your business."

"Like hell it's not." His grip tightened. "You're wearing Asher's shirt. Which means-"

"Which means nothing."

"Maya-"

I yanked my arm free. "You don't get to kiss me and then act possessive. You don't get to call this a mistake and then demand explanations."

"I never said it was a mistake."

"Yes, you did. In the elevator."

"I said it was a mistake. Not that I regretted it." Dominic stepped closer. "There's a difference."

My breath caught. This close, I could see the stubble on his jaw, smell whiskey on his breath.

"You've been drinking."

"Three glasses. Barely enough to feel." His hand came up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Tell me you didn't sleep with my brother."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Tell me anyway."

I met his eyes, saw the vulnerability hiding beneath the command.

"I did," I said quietly. "And I'd do it again."

Something flickered across Dominic's face.

"Then you're in more trouble than you know."

He released me and walked away.

I stood frozen, Asher's phone burning a hole in my pocket.

I'd come to this party as the daughter of a woman seeking a better life.

I was leaving as something else entirely.

I turned toward the exit.

My mother stood blocking my path, her face pale, eyes wide with horror.

"Maya," she whispered. "What have you done?"