The yellow cab pulled up to the curb in front of the towering brownstone in Manhattan's Upper West Side. Ariana Blake stepped out, her chestnut brown hair cascading down her back in soft waves, her warm eyes taking in the city she hadn't seen in years. This wasn't a vacation. It was a new chapter — one she didn't ask for.
She adjusted the strap of her duffle bag and exhaled slowly.
"Welcome home," her mother, Caroline, said from the front door, waving her over with a bright smile. Ariana smiled back, though it didn't reach her eyes. Moving in with her mom again after so many years apart was already strange — doing it because her mom had married a billionaire she barely knew? Even stranger.
Inside, the house smelled of lavender and polished wood. Ariana tried not to gawk at the expensive art and sleek furniture as she walked into the grand foyer.
"This place is... huge," she murmured.
Caroline chuckled. "You'll get used to it. Damien should be home soon. You remember Damien, don't you?"
Ariana paused at the bottom of the staircase. Of course she remembered. Damien Stone — her childhood best friend. The boy who used to sneak her cookies and trade secrets under the oak tree in her backyard. The boy who left without a word when they were fifteen. Now, he was her stepbrother.
Or would be. Tonight was the family dinner to celebrate the marriage.
Just as she placed her bag down, the door creaked open behind her.
"Guess who's back," a deep voice said.
Ariana turned — and froze.
There he was. Damien. Taller, broader, sharper than her memories. Jet-black hair, perfectly tousled. A strong jawline, sharp suit, and eyes like storm clouds that seemed to lock onto her the second he stepped inside.
For a moment, neither of them said a word.
Damien's lips curved into a smirk. "Well, if it isn't little Ari."
Ariana blinked. "Don't call me that."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Still feisty, I see."
Still gorgeous, she thought — then shook the thought away. No. Not this.
She turned away and forced a polite smile. "Nice to see you again, Damien."
"Likewise," he said, but there was something unreadable in his tone.
Dinner was a blur. Laughter, champagne toasts, her mom glowing with happiness. But at the table, Ariana couldn't ignore how Damien's gaze kept finding hers. Nor the way her pulse reacted every time it did.
They were step-siblings now.
But nothing about tonight felt like family.
And Ariana knew, deep down, that this was going to be a problem.
A beautiful, complicated problem.
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