Summer’s POV
Is that what you’re worried about?” His dark eyes studied my face with dangerous focus, catching every micro–expression I tried to hide. “Sounds like you’ve had plenty of experience being her target. And you’re so used to playing defense, aren’t you, June?
The observation was casual, but something in his tone made me look up.
“Isn’t that obvious? I moved out of the Taylor mansion the moment could afford my own place. I only go back for things like Grandpa George’s birthday, when absence would cause more drama an presence.”
His dark eyes studied my face, taking in every subtle tell I couldn’t quite hide. My fingers twisted nervously in the hem of my blouse as that penetrating gaze seemed to strip away every defense I’d built over the years.
“She’s quite skilled at manipulation,” he concluded, his voice carrying an edge that made me shiver. His thumb brushed across my- knuckles, stilling my fidgeting hands. “But she’s never faced someone like me before.”
“Brandon…I said, “You don’t have to get involved in Taylor family worse than it needs to be.”
Victoria has this way of making everything so much
“Oh?” I couldn’t help the slight arch of my eyebrow. “I didn’t expect Mictoria to earn your approval.”
The sales saleswoman approached with perfectly wrapped boxes, her professional demeanor never wavering. The store manager
followed close behind, practically radiating deference.
“Mr. Stark, the shoes…” The manager’s voice carried just the right note of respect.
Brandon’s brow furrowed slightly as he accepted the box containing the heels. “And the flats?”
“Right here, Miss Taylor.” The saleswoman produced another box with impressive efficiency. “Your size, as requested.”
I glanced at Brandon, suddenly uncertain. He nodded once, his expression softening imperceptibly. “Try them on. And wear less heels from now on.” A smile played at his lips as he added, “Except at home.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as I caught his meaning, understanding dawning as I watched the manager’s careful orchestration of the entire scene. The height difference between us was even more pronounced now – my 5’6” to his 6’2” – but something about it felt
oddly right.
“Thank you,” I said to the saleswoman as she packed up my old shoes. Then, to Brandon: “Shall we go?”
d
“Thank you for helping me today.” I turned to face him once we reached the mall’s main corridor, Without those heels digging into my feet, walking felt like floating.
The corner of his mouth lifted in that dangerous half–smile. “Is that all?”
“What else do you want?” I couldn’t quite hide my own answering smile.
“No wonder you’re no match for her.” He closed the distance between us in two long strides, taking the shopping bag from my hand and naturally intertwining our fingers.
My body went rigid, face flaming as registered the casual intimacy of the gesture. “There are people everywhere!” I tried to pull away, though not very convincingly. My eyes darted around nervously, hyper–aware of potential observers.
1/2
Am I embarrassing your The musement in his voice made my pui raco
“Not” 1 forced an awkward laugh. “I just… what if Victoria’s still aroud? If she sees us together…
“What is there to be afraid of? He cut me off smoothly, something like disdain coloring his tone. I didn’t expect you to be so wary of your sister. She’s all bluster.”
The words hit harder than they should have. I bit my lip, memories
twenty–plus years of sisterhood washing over me like acid
*You don’t understand. It started with small things–toys, clothes, Ten it was friends. Then our parents affection. Victoria… she doesn’t just take things. She makes sure you know they were taken.
“Are you afraid she’ll try to take me away too?” Brandon’s deep voice carried a hint of amusement, though something darker lurked beneath.
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