DANGEROUSLY YOURS: INTO THE ARMS OF MY STEPBROTHER

opher

ith a smile and a gun. He wasn't just feare

l-and his crown did

d in bed-w

hen I realized lo

, and I don't m

fall. I d

as hell do

sed to call him husband... or t

this!" my daughter, Amara, yelled, stompin

ernments, hunted by enemies-to her,

easy now," I said, c

to fire someone. "You always say t

six. Too bold

her mother.

re," I muttered, brushing a curl away from her face.

ove. She narr

r. Evelyn brought hers to school and it

y have six diaries. One e

flatly. "And Evelyn's dad got it fo

asked, even thou

. "Whatever Amara wants, Amara

over my face. "You're such

pping her curls. "So, chicken sa

e on the tenth nanny," I

d over her shoulder as she

ching her go like a tor

ousin Collins said, stepping into the hal

phone. "Makes me question all my lif

at like she didn't just threa

tions-business deals, condolenc

step_m

sco

million dollars," I muttered, t

city," Col

idity," I

g I'd ever see was you in a suit giving a damn speech. But this? This beats

thing, she'll ask for shar

ally, clutching his chest. "If

do it g

st. Collins sighed, pushing himself off th

ave a small nod as we got in-Collins riding sho

ed behind us as

, the weight of rea

ading to th

e my f

respected-and maybe, the on

drive we a

and death. Cold. Silent. Except for th

llowed the sound-

tepmo

tragic actress in a bad drama. Her best friend stood aw

ing. Kicking her heels

a brain could see

er. I walked past without a word

Still. The first man I ever fear

inst my chest, but

kness.

ind me. Clutching her

ke a cheap violin, "I'm so sorry-I couldn't do a

slowly, st

an, p

e crying

dile tears. Could you at least

inked,

on dollars, the next you're flinging yours

gasped. Coll

his performance for my benefit, or ar

er mouth, but

t bring him back. And they

h. Then, like flipping a switc

ke she suddenly remembered she had a spine. "I was with you for years, Chri

did not," I s

her. "I wish Steve was here. You would

r head like the weight of the w

u ever stop to think what your daughter-Is

en Isabella in five-maybe six-years. And yet, just saying

swipe of her fingers, she wiped her

wly, letting the silenc

dy sti

's b

t blink. But something

uieter this time. "

then. Slow

e back ye

aw cl

nd you didn't think that w

should be grieving. "You've been so busy with

e?" I laughed, low and bitter.

shake of her head. "Must everything always

you'd lear

mother, whether y

er," I snapped. "Don

her temple. "God, I feel so drained. My head hurts

eave, her heels echoing off the

k yesterday... and di

even

e. Was it because of what

still re

l, d

thing we burned down-she still manage

ld've sta

she's back... she'