Asher went utterly still.

Then his hands cupped my face, and he kissed me back like a man drowning.

Where Dominic had been commanding, Asher was desperate. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that felt like starvation.

My fingers tangled in his hair. It was longer than his brothers', curling at his collar, soft and paint-smudged.

Asher's hands slid from my face to my shoulders, my waist, pulling me closer.

"Maya." My name was a prayer. "We shouldn't-"

"I know."

"I'm supposed to be your-"

"I know."

I kissed him again, harder.

Asher's control snapped.

He walked me backwards. My feet stumbled over drop cloths and paint cans. My back hit the wall-a different wall, a different brother, but the same electric wrongness.

His hands found the zipper of my dress.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed against my throat.

I arched into him. "Don't stop."

The zipper lowered. Asher's lips followed its path, kissing each inch of exposed skin. When the dress pooled at my feet, I stood before him in nothing but borrowed lingerie.

Asher pulled back, his artist's eyes drinking me in.

"You're so beautiful it hurts to look at you."

No one had ever said anything like that to me.

I reached for his shirt, fingers clumsy on the buttons. Asher helped, shrugging out of the paint-stained fabric. More paint smudged his ribs, his collarbones.

I traced a line of blue across his chest. "You wear your work."

"Always have." His hands spanned my waist. "Maya, if we do this-"

"I know what this means."

"Do you? Because I don't do casual. If I touch you like I want to touch you, I won't be able to let you go."

The words should have terrified me. Instead, they sent heat pooling low.

"Then touch me."

Asher lifted me like I weighed nothing. My legs wrapped around his waist. He carried me to a couch half-covered in drop cloths, laying me down with a gentleness that contrasted with the hunger in his eyes.

"I've imagined this," he confessed. "Every night since I first saw you."

His hands skimmed up my legs, my thighs. I trembled.

"What did you imagine?"

"Everything." His fingers hooked in my underwear, slowly sliding the fabric down. "Every way I could make you moan my name."

My breath hitched.

Asher smiled and lowered his head.

The first touch of his mouth made me cry out. My hands flew to his hair as he explored me with devastating precision.

He learned me like I was a canvas. Patient. Thorough. When my back arched off the couch, when I shattered with his name on my lips, Asher gentled his touch but didn't stop.

"You're perfect," he murmured, kissing his way back up. "Absolutely perfect."

I pulled him down, tasting myself on his lips, fumbling with his belt. Asher helped, shedding the rest of his clothes.

He paused at my entrance, searching my face. "Last chance, Maya."

"I don't want a last chance." I wrapped my legs around him. "I want you."

Asher entered me slowly, his groan matching my gasp.

Then he moved.

It wasn't gentle. I didn't want gentle. I wanted this consuming passion that made me forget everything.

Asher drove into me with increasing urgency, one hand braced beside my head, the other between our bodies.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I forced my eyes open. Met his gaze. And felt something shift inside my chest, something more dangerous than the physical pleasure building.

"I see you, Maya," he whispered. "All of you."

The words, the intensity in his eyes, his touch-it was too much.

I came apart for the second time, and Asher followed me over the edge, burying his face in my neck, my name a reverent curse.

We lay tangled together in the aftermath, paint-stained and sweat-slicked and utterly ruined.

"What have we done?" I whispered.

Asher's arms tightened around me. "Something we can't undo."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

We both froze.

"Asher?" Julian's voice called. "You up here?"

My eyes went wide. Asher pressed a finger to my lips.

"I'm working," he called back. "Go away."

"I need to talk to you. It's about-"

The door opened.

Julian stood in the doorway. His eyes found us on the couch-Asher shirtless, me wrapped in a drop cloth, our clothes scattered.

The color drained from Julian's face.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Asher moved faster than I thought possible. He was on his feet, positioning himself between me and Julian.

"Get out," Asher said, his voice deadly calm.

Julian's jaw worked. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I said, get out."

"She's going to be our stepsister!"

"I'm aware."

"Then what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Asher's hands clenched. "Nothing you haven't already tried."

The words hung in the air.

Julian's eyes cut to me, and something raw flashed across his face. Hurt. Jealousy. Betrayal.

"I never-" He stopped. "I didn't know who she was."

"Neither did I. Not when it mattered."

"When it-" Julian laughed, bitter. "You painted her three weeks ago, Asher. You knew exactly who she was the moment Father announced his engagement."

My stomach dropped. "You knew?"

Asher turned to me, and the guilt in his eyes confirmed everything.

"You knew," I repeated, my voice rising. "You knew who I was, who my mother was, and you painted me anyway. You let me walk into this room, you told me about my father, you-"

I couldn't finish. My hands shook as I clutched the drop cloth tighter.

"Maya, let me explain."

"Explain what? That you manipulated me? That this was all some kind of game?"

"No." Asher reached for me, but I jerked back. "I didn't plan this. Any of this. I painted you because I couldn't stop thinking about you, and yes, I knew who you were when your mother got engaged, but that didn't change-"

"It changes everything!"

"Does it? Would you rather I'd stayed away? Let you walk through this party alone, let Dominic tear you apart, let Julian charm you with his lies?"

"I met her first," Julian said quietly.

Both Asher and I turned to stare.

Julian's hands were in his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. But his eyes burned.

"I saw her at the coffee shop three weeks ago. Before you painted her. Before you knew anything about her." He looked at me. "I asked you out before I knew who you were. Before I knew your mother was marrying my father."

"And then?" My voice shook. "You knew at the party. You knew when I walked in, and you said nothing."

"What was I supposed to say?" Julian's laugh was self-deprecating. "I panicked. I thought if I stayed away, maybe it would be easier."

"Easier for who?"

"For all of us." He took a step into the room. "But clearly, I'm not the only one who can't stay away."

Asher's jaw tightened. "Julian-"

"Save it." Julian's eyes found mine again, and the heat in them made my breath catch. "I wanted you first. Remember that."

He turned and walked out.

My legs gave out. I sank onto the couch, still wrapped in paint-stained canvas.

Three brothers. I'd kissed-and more-with two of them. In one night.

What was wrong with me?

"Maya." Asher knelt in front of me. "I'm sorry. I should have told you I knew who you were. But everything I said about your father-that's real. And what I feel for you-"

"Don't." I couldn't hear this right now. "Just... don't."

I stood, searching for my dress. Found it crumpled by the easel. The zipper was broken.

Perfect.

"Take my shirt," Asher offered. "It's paint-stained, but-"

"Fine."

I let the drop cloth fall. Asher's sharp intake of breath made me pause.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Not for what we did. I could never be sorry for that. But for the lies."

I pulled on his shirt. It hung to mid-thigh, covered in blue and gold and crimson smudges.

"My father." I forced the words out. "You said he was investigating corporate fraud. Who?"

"Victor Castellan."

The name meant nothing. "Who is he?"

"Father's biggest rival. They were partners once. Then something went wrong, and they've been at war ever since." Asher gathered the scattered papers, handing them to me. "Your father was Castellan's accountant. He found evidence of money laundering, fraud, bribery. He was going to expose everything."

"And Castellan killed him?"

"I think so. But I can't prove it. Not yet."

I stared at the papers, my father's name jumping out from financial statements.

"Why do you care? About my father, about me, about any of this?"

Asher was quiet for a long moment.

"Because three years ago, I was engaged. Her name was Sophie. She was investigating Castellan too. For a journalism piece. And then her car went off a bridge."

My heart stopped. "Asher-"

"Everyone said it was an accident. But I knew." His hands fisted. "I've been gathering evidence ever since. Your father's case is part of a pattern."

"And my mother married his enemy."

"Yes."

"Does Richard know? About my father?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." Asher met my eyes. "Father doesn't do anything without calculation. If he married your mother, there's a reason."

The implication hit me like a fist.

"My inheritance." The words tasted like ash.

I'd learned about it only last week. A letter from a lawyer, explaining that my grandmother had left me millions. Locked away until I turned twenty-five or married.

"I don't know for sure," Asher said carefully. "But it would make sense."

I laughed, high and brittle. "So my mother is marrying a man who might be using her. I'm about to become stepsiblings with three men I've-" I couldn't finish. "And the man who killed my father is still out there."

"Yes."

At least he was honest.

I gathered my things-my broken dress, my shoes, the folder. "I need to leave."

"Maya-"

"Please." I looked at him. "I need to think. I can't do it here."

Asher nodded slowly. "Okay. But take this." He pulled a phone from his desk drawer. "Burner. My number's already programmed. If you need anything-call me."

I took the phone. Our fingers brushed.

"I meant what I said," Asher whispered. "I see you, Maya. All of you. And I'm not sorry for tonight."

My throat closed. I turned and walked out before I could do something stupid like kiss him again.

The hallway was empty. I made my way down stairs, through corridors that all looked the same.

A door opened ahead.

Dominic stepped out.

He was no longer in his tuxedo jacket, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, bow tie hanging loose.

His eyes widened when he saw me. Took in Asher's paint-stained shirt, my bare legs, my tangled hair.

His expression went carefully blank.

"Maya."

"Don't." I couldn't handle another confrontation.

But Dominic caught my arm as I tried to pass. "Whose shirt?"

"None of your business."

"Like hell it's not." His grip tightened. "You're wearing Asher's shirt. Which means-"

"Which means nothing."

"Maya-"

I yanked my arm free. "You don't get to kiss me and then act possessive. You don't get to call this a mistake and then demand explanations."

"I never said it was a mistake."

"Yes, you did. In the elevator."

"I said it was a mistake. Not that I regretted it." Dominic stepped closer. "There's a difference."

My breath caught. This close, I could see the stubble on his jaw, smell whiskey on his breath.

"You've been drinking."

"Three glasses. Barely enough to feel." His hand came up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Tell me you didn't sleep with my brother."

"I don't owe you anything."

"Tell me anyway."

I met his eyes, saw the vulnerability hiding beneath the command.

"I did," I said quietly. "And I'd do it again."

Something flickered across Dominic's face.

"Then you're in more trouble than you know."

He released me and walked away.

I stood frozen, Asher's phone burning a hole in my pocket.

I'd come to this party as the daughter of a woman seeking a better life.

I was leaving as something else entirely.

I turned toward the exit.

My mother stood blocking my path, her face pale, eyes wide with horror.

"Maya," she whispered. "What have you done?"

"Nothing mom, just getting to know my soon to be step brothers."

"I taught you were already fighting with them, i saw you arguing."_

'You didn't see correctly,' I stepped in cutting her off. Good night mom. Reaching my lips on her cheek then i walked past her.

I woke up to sunlight and the smell of paint thinner.

My body aches. Last night comes flooding back-Asher's hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me.

Oh God.

I bolt upright, clutching a paint-splattered drop cloth. The studio is empty. Morning light streams through windows, illuminating the couch where I let Asher Stone take me apart.

Where I'm supposed to be his stepsister.

I need to leave. Now.

A sketch propped against the easel stops me. Me, asleep, curled on the couch.

A note pinned to the bottom: You're beautiful when you dream. No regrets. -A

My hands shake. No regrets? Easy for him to say.

I find my ruined dress and stuff it behind canvases. Asher's shirt hangs to mid-thigh. It'll have to do.

I crack the door. Empty hallway. Silent mansion.

I make it five steps before I hear footsteps.

Dominic rounds the corner.

We freeze.

He's in running clothes, sweat-soaked. His eyes travel down my body. Linger on Asher's shirt.

Something dangerous flashes across his face.

"Productive evening?"

"I don't owe you an explanation."

"No. You don't." He steps closer. "But you're going to give me one anyway."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll assume the worst. That my brother fucked you in his studio while I was downstairs drinking myself stupid because I couldn't stop thinking about how you tasted."

Heat floods my face.

"Dominic-"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

I can't.

Dominic's jaw clenches. "That's what I thought."

He moves to walk past. My hand shoots out, catching his wrist.

"It wasn't like that."

"No? Then what was it like? Because from where I'm standing, you let two brothers kiss you in one night. Tell me-are you going for the full set?"

The slap happens before I can think.

My palm connects with his cheek.

For three heartbeats, neither of us breathes.

Then his hand fists in Asher's shirt and he yanks me against him.

"You really need to stop hitting me. Because every time you do, I want to bend you over the nearest surface and make you scream my name until you forget you ever touched anyone else."

My knees go weak.

"We can't," I whisper.

"Can't we?" His hand slides down my spine, cups my hip. He's hard. "We're strangers forced into proximity."

"Dominic-"

"Say it again."

"What?"

"My name." His hand slides lower. "Say it the way you did in the elevator."

I should push him away.

But my body arches into his touch.

"Someone will see."

"Let them." His fingers trace my inner thigh. "Let them see exactly who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"Keep telling yourself that." He finds the edge of my underwear. Pauses. "Tell me to stop, Maya. Because if I touch you and find you wet for me after spending the night with my brother, I'm going to lose what little control I have left."

My breath comes in short gasps.

"Maya? Is that you?"

My mother's voice.

Dominic releases me so fast I stumble. He's three feet away, face neutral except for his eyes.

"We're not done," he mouths.

Then he jogs away.

I barely have time to straighten the shirt before Mom appears, still in her robe.

"There you are! I was worried." Her eyes narrow. "Whose shirt is that?"

"I spilled wine. A staff member lent me this."

Mom is too busy glowing to notice the lie.

"Well, hurry and change. Richard wants us all together for brunch."

"I'll be down in five minutes."

She kisses my cheek and floats away.

I sprint to my bedroom, lock the door.

What am I doing?

A knock makes me jump.

"Maya?" Julian's voice. "We need to talk."

No. I can't handle him right now.

"I know you're in there. I can hear you breathing."

Damn it.

I crack the door.

Julian leans against the frame, still in last night's tuxedo pants and undershirt. Hair disheveled, eyes shadowed.

"You look like hell," I say.

"Didn't sleep." His gaze drops to my shirt-Asher's shirt. His jaw tightens. "Guess I'm not the only one."

"Julian-"

"Save it." He pushes past me, closing the door. "I'm not here to lecture you. I'm here because we need to talk about us."

"There is no us."

"Isn't there? You gave me your number, Maya. You wanted me before you knew who I was."

"And you lied."

"By omission." His hands come up. "You're right. I should have told you. But I panicked because the moment I saw you walk into that party, I knew I was fucked."

The raw honesty stops my anger.

"Julian..."

"I meant what I said at the coffee shop. Every word." He steps closer. "I've been watching you for weeks. The way you smile at regulars. How you remember orders. That crease between your eyebrows when you're concentrating."

His hand smooths that exact spot.

"You noticed all that?"

"I notice everything about you." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Including the fact that you're covered in paint."

My breath catches.

"I'm not going to apologize."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking for a chance."

Before I can respond, his phone buzzes.

He checks it. His expression shutters.

"What?"

"Father. He wants everyone in his study. Now." Julian looks at me, and fear flickers in his eyes. "Maya, whatever happens in there-don't agree to anything. Not without talking to me first."

"What are you talking about?"

But he's already heading for the door.

"Julian!"

He pauses. "When my father says he wants family time, he means business. And you, Maya Laurent, just became his most valuable asset."

The door closes.

I stand frozen.

My phone-the burner Asher gave me-buzzes.

One text. From an unknown number.

Whatever he offers you, say no. Your life depends on it. -V

I stare at the message.

Then I grab jeans, pull them on under Asher's shirt, and run.