Falling for My Mafia Stepbrother

Harper's POV "Hi, sweetie, happy new semester," I said, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. I tied my soft, golden-brown hair into a high ponytail and wore a lemon-yellow knit sweater over a white shirt, paired with a white skirt. This outfit wasn't exactly glamorous, but it made me look youthful and cute—perfect for spring. Luckily, I had taken the time yesterday to iron my clothes; otherwise, I'd definitely be rushing around in a panic right now. Oh, it’s already 8:45. I need to leave for school soon. Matthew has a game today, and as his girlfriend, there's no way I’m missing it! Grabbing my backpack and swiping a bit of lip gloss on my lips as I ran downstairs, I nearly tripped over myself on the way. These complicated stairs! "Sweetie, have breakfast—" "No time, Mom! I’m in a rush!" With time running out, I couldn't sit down for breakfast with my family. Oh, I'm so excited about the new semester. I didn’t fall asleep until late last night, and my alarm had to go off four or five times before I finally got up. If I don't hurry, I’m going to miss cheer practice! Just then, a voice sounded behind me. "Harper, your mom woke up early to make breakfast for you. The sandwiches are delicious. Don’t worry, I’ve already asked my driver to wait outside. He’ll make sure you get to school safely. Take your breakfast and eat it in the car. You’re already skinny enough; no need to skip meals." The man speaking with such warmth was my stepfather. He had a strong build, and though he liked wearing loose clothing, you could still see the outline of his muscles beneath the fabric. As he spoke, he set down the newspaper and stood up, moving beside my mom. His tall figure made her look even more petite. He looked at me with his dark eyes. He was always gentle with me, but I could never meet his gaze. Every time I did, I’d picture a younger face—one that resembled his. The thought of that face gave me chills. "Okay, Dad." I grabbed the breakfast and ran over to kiss Mom's cheek before heading out the door and into the car my stepfather had arranged. Leaning back in the leather seat, I tried to empty my thoughts. My stepfather was Italian. No one would guess that this always-smiling man was once a mafia boss. When he was younger, he married, but his wife was killed by an enemy during a period of fierce conflict between the mafia families. They said he locked himself in a room for three days to grieve, holding an elaborate funeral for her. For over a decade, he never remarried, focusing instead on raising his son. He became even more ruthless, leading his faction to become the largest mafia in Italy and eventually expanding their reach to America. In America, he met my mom. Maybe he got tired of the violent life or decided it was time for the younger generation to take over, but he chose to marry my mom, settle in the U.S., and enjoy a peaceful retirement. Honestly, though the occasional appearance of mafia men at our house scared me, he had always been good to me. He saved my mom and me from a life of despair and gave us a warm home. Snapping out of my memories, I glanced at the driver. Ever since marrying my mom, my stepfather had been very protective of us, like today—insisting I be driven to school even if I was in a hurry. Being cared for like this wasn't so bad, I thought. Except for one person… That young face came to my mind again. A handsome yet intense face, with sharp features, dark eyes, and lips always set in a tight line. His gaze made me feel cold and breathless. That face belonged to Marco, my stepbrother—my stepfather’s successor, the next mafia boss. When I first arrived in New York with my mom a year ago, she told me my stepfather was easy to get along with. She didn’t know much about her stepson Marco, only that he was reliable and would protect us. At the time, I was too caught up in my fears about fitting into a new life to think much about my stepbrother. I was more worried about whether my stepfather would like me. I remember the first day we moved into the mansion. My stepfather and mom helped set up my room—a luxurious princess-themed bedroom. It had a huge walk-in closet filled with designer clothes and jewelry. My favorite stuffed animals were arranged neatly on my bed. “I prepared these things ahead of time. I hope you’ll like it here,” my stepfather said, rubbing his nose. Like a beast hiding its claws, I felt warmth from a father figure for the first time and quickly accepted this new family, forgetting about the stepbrother I hadn’t yet met. The next day, as I walked down the grand spiral staircase, I ran into a tall young man. I froze, unsure what to do, while he squinted at me, then pushed me into the corner of the staircase, wrapping his hand around my neck. His fingers were long, with calluses—probably from training. The feeling of suffocation was unforgettable, and those few seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. I could see my pained expression clearly in his dark eyes. “Don’t think you can take what isn’t yours. Remember who you are—this is not your home.” I was terrified, unable to understand what he meant. I only felt like I was about to die. Just when I thought I was about to meet God, he let go. His eyes, like those of a hawk, studied me while his lips formed a tight line. I had no doubt that he could pull out a gun and shoot me at any moment. My legs gave out, and I leaned against the railing, my voice trembling, “Please.” He sneered, disdain filling his voice, then turned and walked away. I didn’t see him after that. The next morning at breakfast, I overheard that my stepfather had sent him to Italy. I kept my head down, pretending to eat, but secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Apart from that unsettling incident, my life since then had been happy. With time, I slowly forgot the suffocating fear of that day. I started school in New York, made new friends, and eventually met my boyfriend, Matthew, the quarterback of the football team. The car soon arrived at school, and after thanking the driver, I jogged into class just in time—the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Matthew’s game was after the second class, with cheer practice right after the first. As I settled into my seat, trying to catch my breath, I felt a poke on my back. I turned to see Matthew beside me, taking my hand on the desk. “Babe, you didn’t reply to my messages this morning.” He leaned his head against my neck like a big puppy, his warm breath tickling my skin. “I overslept.” I pushed him away, uncomfortable with all the eyes on us, especially those of my friend Lily. She was giving me a knowing look, barely suppressing a laugh. Matthew knew I wasn’t into public displays of affection. He chuckled. “I waited a long time, princess. Don’t I deserve a little reward?” Damn it, he knew how to play me. He always put on the puppy act, knowing I’d cave. Looking into his big brown eyes, I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Today’s my 18th birthday, so if you win,” I said, holding his hand, “I think the princess will give her loyal knight the best reward.” His eyes lit up, suddenly intense, almost scorching. “I’m counting on it.” After first period, Lily and I headed to the gym. On our way, we met the other cheerleaders. It was clear everyone was a little nervous. We got to the changing room and put on our uniforms—bright red, representing our school colors. As we were changing, Lily gave me a playful nudge. “Harper, you look amazing in red. You’re definitely going to drive all those boys crazy.” Thank goodness for her humor to break the tension. Honestly, Lily was the more popular one with the guys, but we had a great friendship. Matthew was always a little jealous of Lily, joking that if I liked girls, he wouldn’t stand a chance—Lily’d steal me away in a heartbeat. Dressed in our cheer uniforms, we walked onto the field for practice. We went through our routine, the familiar moves perfectly timed to the music. Everyone was giving it their all for today’s game. Time flew by, and soon we had to clear the field for the setup crew. Our seats were in the front row of the stands, ready for us after our performance. The game was about to start. As the announcer came on, I could feel my heart pounding faster and faster. My nerves were half for the cheer routine, half for Matthew’s game. Lily squeezed my hand. “Harper, don’t worry, we’re going to win. Matthew’s probably in the locker room now, and he’ll win for sure when he sees you cheering for him!” Maybe it was Lily’s encouragement, but my racing heart slowly steadied. “You’re right, Lily. We’ve got this.” Maybe today really was my lucky day—not only did our performance go smoothly, but Matthew and his teammates won the game at the last second. The crowd erupted as the referee blew the whistle to end the game. Cheers echoed through the stands. I don’t know how I must’ve looked, but I was beyond happy, hugging Lily in excitement. I watched Matthew on the field, his helmet off, his hair damp with sweat as he and his teammates were awarded their championship rings. Somehow, amid the crowd, he looked up and met my eyes. He started walking toward me. My hands had nowhere to go as he approached. Before I knew it, he had lifted me up. The spectators who hadn’t yet left, his teammates, and my cheer squad—they all began cheering and whistling, their applause growing louder and louder. He lifted me high, and then we kissed. It was my first kiss. Even though I seemed calm, I had no real experience with romance. So when I felt his lips on mine, I was stunned. It was a magical day. Golden confetti, the boy I loved, my first kiss on my eighteenth birthday. These were the best days of my youth. Even though a lot happened later, I will always be grateful for everything that happened back then.