Chapter 1: Tangled in His Trap

My boyfriend, so caught up in his own ambitions, sent me to Sebastian Langley's hotel room.

I could still hear his voice—so sure, so hopeful—ringing in my ears: "Just be nice to him, Autumn. This could change everything for us." He had no clue how wrong he was, how twisted things really were underneath it all.

But he didn't know. He didn't know Sebastian was my stepbrother.

That secret was a fire in my chest, a secret I'd carried for years—never thinking it would actually matter. Not until tonight.

Inside the penthouse suite, I was tangled up on the king-sized bed, my body practically knotted with nerves and need. My stomach churned with anxiety, and every muscle felt wound tight.

The sheets were cool beneath me, but my skin burned like I had a fever. I dug my fingers into the comforter, desperate for something real, trying to anchor myself in the thick, expensive softness of the room. City lights sparkled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I barely registered them.

Sebastian just lounged to the side, phone in hand, playing Candy Crush.

He looked so damn relaxed, sprawled out in a sleek leather armchair, one ankle resting on his knee. The glow from his phone lit up his sharp jawline. He looked almost entertained by my misery, tapping away like nothing could ever rattle him.

Whatever he'd given me, it was hitting hard. My eyes blurred with tears as I tried to crawl into his arms.

My vision swam, and every inch of me ached with a wild, desperate heat. I tried to blink away the tears, but they just kept coming, hot and relentless. This wasn't me. This couldn't be me. My body felt alien—too heavy, too light, all at once.

He caught my hand, pinning it down, his eyes glinting with mischief.

His grip was gentle but unyielding, the kind that promised comfort and control all at once. I hated how much I wanted that. He arched an eyebrow, a sly half-smile on his lips, clearly savoring my struggle.

"Little sis, we can't do this, you know."

His voice teased, but there was a warning in it. A dare, maybe.

I stared at him, feeling wronged. Seriously? After everything?

The unfairness of it all stung. My throat tightened, my bottom lip quivered. I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. But all I could do was look at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"You're not my real brother anyway." Even as I said it, I knew how it sounded.

The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. Even as they left my mouth, I could hear how childish they sounded. But I didn't care. My dignity was long gone. God, I was a mess.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile playful. He was enjoying this.

He leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "But didn't you say before that I was gross?" My cheeks burned with embarrassment as the memory surfaced.

The drug hit hard. My whole body burned. Even my heart ached. I was falling apart.

The heat throbbed through me, every heartbeat shooting another jolt of need straight to my core. I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. My thoughts unraveled, melting away. I felt stripped bare, every nerve exposed.

Sebastian was still on the couch. Watching.

He looked so far away, like a lifeguard watching someone drown from the safety of shore. The distance between us felt cruel. God, it hurt.

He frowned, swiping at his phone, the device chiming—sweet! Delicious! I almost laughed at the absurdity.

The cheerful game sounds clashed with the chaos in my chest. I wanted to scream. The bright chimes grated on my nerves, making my desperation feel even more humiliating.

"Sebastian." My voice came out hoarse. Please, just look at me.

It barely sounded like me. More of a croak than a plea. I hated how small I sounded. But it was all I had.

"What is it? Thirsty? There's water on the table—get it yourself." He didn't bother looking up, too wrapped up in his game.

His words were so dismissive, almost lazy. I wanted to throw something at him, but my arms felt like they weighed a ton. Ugh, he was impossible.

I knew he was doing it on purpose. He always did.

That was Sebastian through and through—always in control, always making me jump through hoops. Even now, when I was falling apart, he wanted to see how far I'd go.

But now that I was on his turf, I had no choice but to put up with it.

I could taste helplessness—bitter and metallic, thick on my tongue. There was no way out, not from this room or from him.

I forced myself upright and dragged my body to sit next to him. The leather couch was cold, and for a second, the chill cut through the heat inside me. Thank God for that.

The cold seeped through my thin dress, cooling my burning skin for a moment. I let out a shaky sigh, trying to steady myself against the armrest.

"What are you doing?" He finally looked up, reaching out to touch my forehead. The sudden attention made my heart jump.

His hand was cool and steady, his fingers brushing a stray hair from my face. For a heartbeat, I almost let myself believe he cared.

"Sebastian, let me lean on you." I was a mess, tears streaming down my face as I begged. My voice shook, thick with need.

I sounded so small, so lost. I didn't care how pathetic I looked. I just needed him. I would have taken anything he was willing to give. Please, just something.

"Bonus time!"

The Candy Crush game cheered again, and my brain fizzed with static, fireworks exploding behind my eyes. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

The noise was dizzying. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but the sound rattled around my skull—a taunting reminder of how far gone I was. God, make it stop.

I grabbed at his shirt, yanked myself onto his lap, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I could feel the heat of his body through my dress.

My breath came in short, desperate gasps. His cologne—clean, woodsy, with a sharp edge—filled my nose. I pressed my cheek to his chest, clinging like my life depended on it.

Sebastian just rested his hands on the back of the couch, letting me do whatever I wanted. It was infuriating.

He didn't push me away, but he didn't pull me closer either. He was letting me make the first move, letting me cross that line myself. My heart pounded.

But when my hand slipped to his belt, he lifted my chin. The tension between us snapped tight.

His touch was gentle, but there was steel beneath it. He forced me to look him in the eyes, and my breath caught in my throat.

"No, little sis." He really leaned into those last two words. The sting was sharp.

His words hit harder than a slap. For just a second, I saw conflict flicker in his eyes—then it was gone.

I blinked, and a tear slid down my cheek. The pain sat heavy in my chest.

The tear left a cold trail on my burning skin, but I didn't wipe it away. I wanted him to see. I wanted him to know how much this hurt.

"You're not my real brother anyway." The words slipped out, softer this time, almost a whisper. Even I barely recognized my own voice.

"Is that so?" He arched a brow, mocking me. "Did you forget, little sis? You once said I was gross, that I made you sick."

His words dropped like stones between us. I flinched, the memory stinging—God, I'd wanted to hurt him back then. I regretted it now.

"How could I? Sebastian, you smell so good, and you're so... hard." I rambled, my body pressing closer. The word hung between us, and I knew exactly what I meant.

The words poured out, half delirious, half begging. Shame burned in my cheeks as I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in.

He let out a low laugh, but I could see the pleased glint in his eyes. He liked hearing it, even if he pretended otherwise.

There was pride in his gaze, and something darker flickered there. It made me nervous, but I couldn't stop myself.

"Sebastian, I feel awful. Can you help me?" I clung to him, my voice desperate and raw.

My voice cracked, ragged with need. I could feel his pulse pounding beneath my lips, wild and fast.

His body went stiff for a moment, then he scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom.

He lifted me like I weighed nothing, his arms strong and steady. The world spun, and I just clung to his shirt, letting him take over. For once, I surrendered.

Water splashed everywhere as I thrashed in the tub, but the icy shock barely touched the fire burning inside me. I wanted to scream.

The cold water jolted me, but it did nothing to quench the heat under my skin. I kicked and twisted, desperate for relief. It never came. God, why wouldn't it stop?

A prickling, numb pain crawled in my chest, like a swarm of ants biting me all at once. Not enough to kill, just enough to make me crazy.