The Forbidden Mark Of My Stepbrother

The dining room was a cavernous space, dominated by a long mahogany table that could seat twenty. The silence was heavy, broken only by the scrape of silver against fine china.

Kelsie sat at the far end, next to her mother. Her stepfather, Arthur, was absent, likely too weak to leave his bed today. Across from her sat Sloane, Cornelius's younger sister, looking every bit the heiress in cashmere and pearls.

At the head of the table sat Silas Wilder, the patriarch, reading the Wall Street Journal. And to his right, Cornelius.

"Who is that?" Grandma Rose asked suddenly. Her voice was loud and scratchy. She pointed a trembling finger directly at Kelsie. "Silas, dear, who is this young woman? I don't believe I recognize her from the household staff."

Kelsie froze, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth.

Sloane let out a short, sharp laugh. She reached over and patted the old woman's hand. "That's not staff, Grandma. That's Kelsie. You remember? Joanne's daughter."

"Oh," Grandma Rose said, her eyes clouding over. "The girl who came with her. I see."

Heat flooded Kelsie's cheeks. She looked down at her plate, focusing on the scrambled eggs. Beside her, Joanne kept her head down, sawing methodically at a sausage link, pretending she hadn't heard.

Cornelius took a sip of his black coffee. He didn't look up. He didn't defend her. He just turned the page of a file he was reading.

Silas folded his newspaper and cleared his throat. The table instantly went still.

"The merger with the Kerr banking division is moving into the final stages," Silas announced, his voice gravelly. "It is imperative that we solidify the alliance."

Cornelius set his cup down. "It's handled, Father. I spoke with Emerald last night. I have formally proposed an engagement."

The world stopped. The buzzing in Kelsie's ears drowned out the room.

Engagement.

Her hand went numb. The heavy silver fork slipped from her fingers and clattered loudly onto the porcelain plate. The sound was deafening in the quiet room.

Every head turned toward her.

"Problem, Kelsie?" Sloane asked, arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "You look like you've seen a ghost. This is great news for the family. Unless you're not happy for your brother?"

Kelsie felt Cornelius's gaze on her then. It was heavy, physical. She forced her hand to move, to pick up the fork, though her fingers were trembling.

"No," Kelsie managed to choke out. "I just... slipped. Congratulations, Cornelius. It's wonderful news."

"Thank you, Kelsie," Cornelius said. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Emerald is a suitable match."

Joanne immediately launched into a nervous monologue about how beautiful the wedding would be, trying to fill the awkward air. Sloane started listing potential venues, asking if Kelsie would be willing to help address envelopes since she "had so much free time."

"Kelsie is busy," Cornelius cut in. His tone was sharp enough to silence the table. "She has interviews to prepare for."

"Interviews?" Sloane scoffed. "For what? Who's going to hire her? Unless you wrote a letter, Cornelius?"

Cornelius ignored his sister. He stood up, buttoning his jacket. "I have to get to the office."

He walked down the length of the table. As he passed behind Kelsie's chair, the room was filled with the noise of Sloane and Joanne chattering. Cornelius paused for a fraction of a second. His hand brushed the back of her chair, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. In the polished reflection of a silver serving dish on the sideboard, their eyes met for a fleeting, chilling moment. His gaze was not a question. It was an instruction.

Kelsie stiffened, her breath hitching. He had just announced his engagement. He had just sold himself to another woman. And now he was demanding entry?

He didn't wait for a response. He kept walking, exiting the room without looking back.

Kelsie felt sick. She pushed her plate away, the food turning to ash in her mouth. She excused herself and practically ran out of the room, through the French doors and into the garden. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over her best friend Ainsley's contact, but she didn't call. What could she say? My stepbrother is marrying an heiress and still wants to sleep with me?

She looked at the notification on her screen. CNN Business: Wilder-Kerr Alliance Solidified by Engagement.

She gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white. Tonight, she decided. Tonight, the door would stay locked.