Page 62 of Beautiful Sin
“More like invitations,” Xander muttered, then cleared his throat when Jaxson’s head snapped toward him with the speed and precision of a striking cobra. “To catch a cold, I mean.”
“I think they look cute!” Nico chirped through a mouthful of toast, proving once again that his brain-to-mouth filter was permanently set to “whatever pops into my head.” “Like those oversized boyfriend shirts girls?—”
“Finish that sentence,” Colt growled, his voice dropping to a register that made small animals flee in terror, “and you’re doing your own laundry for a month.”
“Cute,” Wei purred, drawing out the word like he was savoring a particularly fine wine. “Yes, our little Family Saint does look rather… delectable in hand-me-downs, doesn’t he? Almost good enough to?—”
“It’s decided, then,” Jaxson cut in, his tone carrying enough authority to silence a boardroom full of arguing executives. “We’ll go shopping today.”
“We?” Colt’s eyebrow arched so high it threatened to escape his forehead entirely and establish residence in his hairline.
“Yes,we,” Jaxson replied, his voice silk over steel. “Unless you have objections to helping Lan look… proper?”
The temperature in the kitchen dropped several degrees as my stepbrothers engaged in some sort of silent warfare over my head. Meanwhile, I contemplated if spontaneous human combustion was a viable escape route from whatever was about to unfold. Maybe if I concentrated hard enough, I could burst into flames and avoid whatever bizarre shopping trip was being orchestrated around me.
“I’m free until my evening shift,” Xander added, his casual tone belied by the intensity in his eyes.
“Great!” Nico bounced in his seat like he’d just discovered a new limited edition console. “Family outing!”
I slumped in my chair, accepting my fate with all the dignity of a condemned man. Somehow, in the span of a single breakfast, I’d gone from basking in the afterglow of last night’s activities to being the unwilling centerpiece of what promised to be the most awkward shopping trip in recorded history.
“Um, when are we leaving?” I asked, hoping against hope that I’d have time to mentally prepare for whatever fresh hell awaited me at the mall.
“As soon as everyone’s ready,” Jaxson replied. “Best to beat the crowds.”
“Great,” I muttered, stabbing my eggs with renewed vigor. “Can’t wait.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Wei murmured into his coffee cup, his smile suggesting that his definition of “fun” was wildly different from mine. “Our Spirit Magnet, surrounded by his devoted followers. What could possibly go wrong?”
Spirit Magnet? I choked on my toast, earning concerned looks from everyone except Wei, who just watched me with thatinsufferable knowing smile. What was with him and these weird nicknames lately?
I focused on my breakfast, trying to ignore the charged atmosphere and the inexplicable tension crackling between my brothers. If I survived this shopping trip without dying of embarrassment, it would be a miracle on par with Nico voluntarily cleaning his room or Colt taking a day off from color-coding his life. The odds weren’t in my favor, but then again, they never were.
Eighteen
LAN
Somewhere between breakfast and World War III breaking out in our hallway, I realized my life had become a romantic comedy—the kind where the protagonist couldn’t catch a break. Not even a small one. The universe was probably sitting back with popcorn, enjoying the show while I floundered through my sexual awakening with the worst possible candidates: my stepbrothers.
Nico had claimed the shower first—fair enough, he was up and ready for breakfast before I’d even managed to pry my eyes open. What wasn’t fair was him taking approximately three centuries to finish. I swear he was probably recreating the entire evolution of mankind in there, complete with the invention of fire and the wheel.
“Nico!” I banged on the door, channeling my inner angry landlord. “Some of us would like to shower before we reach retirement age! I’ve already started growing a beard out here!”
“Just five more minutes!” he called back cheerfully, his voice barely audible over what sounded like a one-man Broadway production. “I’m at the conditioning stage!”
“The conditioning stage of what? Building the pyramids?”
Behind me, Wei snickered, the sound sliding down my spine like ice water. “My, my, what happened to that Celestial Peach grace? Banging on doors like some angry spirit? Though I suppose after last night, grace isn’t your primary concern.”
The mention of last night sent a flash of heat through me, memories of Jaxson’s lips on mine, his hands on my skin, the way he’d whispered instructions against my mouth as he taught me how to kiss. My body betrayed me with a full-body shiver that Wei definitely noticed, judging by his widening smirk. The air around us seemed to grow warmer, that strange honey-sweet scent rising from my skin again.
I shot him my best death glare, which probably had all the intimidation factor of an angry kitten trying to threaten a lion. “Don’t you have weights to worship or protein shakes to marry? I heard the gym misses its most devoted stalker.”
“Oh, but watching you is so much more entertaining.” His knowing smirk made me want to crawl under the floorboards and possibly relocate to Antarctica. “Especially after such an… eventful night. I can practically smell the aftermath, you know.”
The way he emphasized “eventful” and “smell” made it clear he knew exactly what had happened. Or at least suspected. My stomach twisted with a mixture of embarrassment and something darker, more possessive. Last night with Jaxson felt sacred, private—not something to be dissected over morning coffee by my demonic half brother.
Before I could respond—or possibly commit fratricide, I hadn’t decided yet—Nico finally emerged in a cloud of steam so thick it could have hosted its own weather system. He looked fresh and perky like he hadn’t spent all night gaming, already changed into a bright graphic tee featuring some game character I didn’t recognize, paired with cargo shorts and—were those limited edition sneakers that cost more than my monthly wage?
