I pushed Zayn off the moment the door opened. Our chests were still heaving, his eyes locked on me. He didn't even flinch at the knock.

My mother entered the room, her gaze sweeping over us like she'd caught something.

I swallowed hard. *Please, don't let her see the blush on my face.*

"Zayn," she said, staring at him with that loving look she always gave him.

He didn't spare her a glance.

Well, that wasn't strange. He'd been like that since we moved into the house.

Did he actually think we stole his place with his father? Yes, my mother acted like a leech sometimes.

But wasn't it time he moved on from the past? Unless he didn't really hate us. Just like I never really hated him.

*Oh god, where are my thoughts spiraling to again?*

"Your father is already downstairs waiting for you both." She announced this after Zayn had ignored her completely.

He moved to his bag on the bed and pulled out fresh clothes.

"Emery, come help set the table." My mother said as she left.

I dashed after her. If I stayed any longer, I might actually suffocate from the heat building between my thighs.

His eyes burned into my back. I knew he was watching.

Something felt different and urgent. Like we were both running out of time.

I let out a heavy breath as I followed my mother downstairs. Richard was already waiting at the dining table, and it didn't take long before Zayn joined us.

We locked eyes, and my breath caught.

Dressed in a half-buttoned shirt and black joggers, he looked unfairly good. He didn't look sick. Hell, he looked like a Greek god walking straight out of my fantasy books—the kind of man who'd pin a woman to a dining table and make her forget her own name.

My cheeks burned. *My brain was never helpful.*

"Son." Richard's voice pulled me from my filthy thoughts.

Zayn broke eye contact with me, and only then did I realize he'd been staring too.

"I'm sorry."

I looked at Richard, pity flooding my chest. His face was twisted like he was trying not to cry.

"I'm fine." Zayn said, but Richard was already tearing up. "Dad, really. I'm totally fine."

Zayn moved to the seat beside me. I should've felt relief, but all I could see was a dying man. Someone who had only six months left. Every second ticking brought him closer to his grave.

"You're not fine, Zayn. You're..." Richard choked on his tears. "God."

The weight of the room pressed down on me. My chest felt so tight I thought I might be having a heart attack.

For the past few years, I'd buried myself in work just to earn my place in the Blackwood company. I'd carried so much rage. But right now? I just felt sad.

"I always survive. This won't be any different." Zayn muttered, but I saw his jaw lock. The way his hand trembled slightly on the fork he was holding. None of it escaped me.

"Please, Richard. If you're breaking down in front of the kids, what about the rest of us?" My mother coaxed him back into his seat, her hand patting his shoulder gently.

"Tomorrow morning," Richard exhaled, composing himself. "You'll examine him, Emery. I want to see for myself how bad the tumor is. A room's been set up in his private suite." He was talking to me now.

*A room?*

"Not an—"

"It'll be safer here, Emery. The hospital is too crowded. I've sorted everything out. You don't have to worry about being sanctioned."

Okay, I wasn't afraid of getting in trouble. But being alone in a room with Zayn wasn't a good idea. Not when I'd just realized he wanted me too.

When did he start seeing me as a woman instead of his charity stepsister?

The same question I'd been asking myself since I left his room earlier.

I shook my head and stabbed the steak in front of me.

Then I felt it. The warmth of a hand on my leg. No—my thigh.

I jerked my head up in shock.

*Zayn. Oh shit.*

His hand was sliding up my thigh.

"Fuck." *No, that wasn't supposed to come out loud.*

Our parents' heads snapped toward us. I made an awkward coughing sound.

"The steak... pepper." His hand circled the bare skin of my thigh. He wasn't moving up to where I was already drenched. He just kept teasing that spot—twisting, drawing circles, rubbing slowly. The scrape of silverware against plates felt deafening.

"Pepper?" My mother looked at me, confused. "The steak wasn't made with any pepper."

Zayn chuckled quietly.

He dragged his chair closer with his free hand. My mother was sitting directly across from us.

*God, thank you for this massive table.*

*Wait—I was supposed to push him away!*

I gritted my teeth, biting down a moan that threatened to escape. The taste of blood touched my tongue.

He wasn't even looking at me. His eyes stayed on his plate. He wasn't eating, just sipping juice with that infuriating calmness.

"Zayn..." I whispered, gripping my fork so hard my knuckles turned white.

His jaw tightened. For half a second, his hand stilled on my thigh. Then his fingers resumed their torturous circles, slower this time, deliberate.

"Eat up, son. Would you like more vegetables?" Richard asked.

I let out a sound, not quite a moan, but close enough.

His hand had moved closer to my center. He wasn't touching it yet. His fingers only grazed the edges.

I caught the slight hitch in his breathing. His pupils were wide when he finally glanced my way, just for a second. Then that maddening control snapped back into place.

Goosebumps raced up my arms. My thighs clenched involuntarily under his touch.

"Laila!" My mother called for our cook. "Did you make Emery's steak separately and add pepper?" Laila appeared and shook her head.

"Your face is so red. Should I get you some water?" I could only nod. "Get her rice instead," she told Laila.

"She should have the steak." Zayn's voice was smooth and controlled. "The meat looks fresh. Tender. Savory." His hand slipped into my wetness, and he finally looked at me. "Soft."

The word rolled off his tongue like he was caressing it.

His chest rose and fell just a fraction faster than normal, it was the only crack in his perfect composure.

"I'm done eating. Dad, have a good rest, Dad." He said it so casually.

Before I could process what was happening, his hand slid away from my thighs and he stood up.

Without looking back, he headed upstairs.

Fear crept in immediately.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I looked at our parents, oblivious and chatting quietly.

Tomorrow I'd have to put my hands on him again. I'll examine him, tough him.

Only this time, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop.

CHAPTER FIVE

EMERY

The next morning came in a blink. I rolled off my bed, my eyelids looking like they'd been painted with dark brushes.

I couldn't sleep a wink. No, I didn't dare close my eyes.

Not when Zayn had decided to sleep in the room next to mine.

I could hear his shower running when I closed my eyes, and I couldn't help imagining what it would be like to be in there with him.

My stomach churned as I remembered last night.

*Emery, god, what's wrong with you? He's your stepbrother. Your patient, at that.*

With that thought, I braced myself and freshened up. Within minutes, I was done.

The moment I stepped out of my room and the cold air hit me, I forgot everything I'd just told myself.

I could hear my parents speaking downstairs. They were waiting, anxious for the results.

Embarrassment slammed into me. I was supposed to be professional, treat him, fight for his life with him.

Not make silly fantasies and get wet over my stepbrother.

With a deep breath, I dragged my feet toward the room they'd prepared for us.

He was lying on the bed, probably waiting for me.

"You're here," he said. His eyes locked on me, pinning me in place.

"Hmm," I managed to say as I walked closer.

I looked around. Just like Richard said, everything was in place. Medical stuff lined the walls, monitors, IV stands, the whole setup.

I walked toward the IV line and checked it.

His eyes followed my every movement.

"You're late. Did you even sleep at all?" He said it with his eyes still stuck on me.

*Please, don't care. Can't you see I'm trying my best here?*

"Unless you couldn't stop thinking about our little escapade last night."

My face went hot. I snapped my eyes to him, and that stupid smile tugged at his lips.

"Ah—um—"

*Stop this, Emery!*

"The doctor in Minnesota must have given you a report. Do you have it?" I changed the topic fast, pinching my thigh so the words would come out right.

"There." He pointed to the table.

I grabbed the folder and opened it.

The words hit me like a punch.

Glioblastoma. Stage IV. Inoperable. Six to eight months.

My shoulders dropped.

This was really bad. The worst kind of brain tumor you could get.

I kept reading. Radiation didn't work, and chemo barely touched it. The thing was sitting in a spot where surgery would kill him faster than the tumor would.

Six months.

Maybe eight if he got lucky.

I looked back at him. How the hell was he so calm? He looked thinner, yeah. His face was sharper. But he was just lying there like nothing was wrong with him.

He was dying.

And I was supposed to fix this.

I put the folder down and forced myself to focus. I checked the IV, and the montor. Do the job, Emery.

But when I touched his wrist to check his pulse—

"I've always wanted you."

My hand froze.

"What?"

"You heard me." His voice went lower. "I've wanted you since the first day you walked into this house."

I tried pulling my hand back. He grabbed my wrist and held it there.

"Zayn, I'm working—"

"I don't care if I'm selfish." His grip got tighter. His thumb brushed my pulse point, trembling just slightly. "I'm dying, Emery, and I still want you. But I need to know if you can do this with me. Can you actually fight for whatever time I have left?"

His eyes burned into mine.

"Can you face our parents when they find out? Because I can't stop wanting you. And I'm done waiting."

My lungs seized.

Every part of me screamed *no*. This was insane, wrong, impossible.

But I looked at him, and all I saw was someone who had maybe half a year left.

Someone who'd spent years pushing me away because he thought that's what he had to do.

And now he was asking me to stop running too.

I nodded. Just a tiny movement.

But he saw it.

His hand went to the back of my neck and yanked me down. Our mouths crashed together, messy and desperate and nothing like last night.

This was everything. Years of wanting, all at once.

When we broke apart, I was shaking.

"We need to go downstairs," I whispered. "They're waiting."

"Let them wait."

"Zayn—"

"Fine." He let go, and I stepped back, trying to fix my hair, smooth my clothes.

We went downstairs together, my heart still thumping loudly.

That's when I heard Zayn's uncle, Logan talking.

"I've found a solution."

We both stopped at the top of the stairs.

"What solution?" Richard asked.

"The heir," Logan said, his voice smooth. "Zayn needs an heir before... well. Before... otherwise his legacy dies with him."

My blood went cold.

I looked at Zayn. His jaw locked.

We moved closer, quiet, staying just outside the living room where they couldn't see us.

"An heir?" My mom sounded surprised. "Logan, that's... how would that even work?"

"I already figured it out. I know someone who's willing to help, a young woman who's ready to carry Zayn's child. IVF. All very respectful."

Silence.

Then Richard's voice came out, thick and broken. "You want my son to have a child he'll never meet?"

"I want your son to leave something behind. Isn't that what matters?"

Zayn's hand found mine in the hallway. He squeezed so hard it hurt.

"I think..." Richard's voice cracked. "I think that's beautiful, Logan. Thank you."

"We agree," my mother said quickly. "It's the right thing."

I felt everything collapse.

We'd just started, and it was already over.

"I have someone ready," Logan went on. "Her name's Leilani. She's a lovely girl. And if Zayn doesn't want to get... involved... Emery can help with the samples. Isn't she a professional doctor?"

He said it like he knew exactly how unprofessional I'd already been.

I thought I was going to throw up.

Zayn pulled me back, away from the door, back upstairs.

I wasn't sure if he was dragging me away from the conversation... or dragging me toward a future I wasn't ready for.

We didn't talk until we were in the exam room with the door shut.

"Zayn—"

"Don't." His voice was sharp. "Don't say it."

"But your dad just—"

"I know what he said." He turned to face me, and his eyes looked wild. "And I don't care. I'm not doing it."

"You might not get a choice."

"I always have a choice." He stepped closer. "And I choose you."

"This is your legacy. Your father wants—"

"My father doesn't get to decide how I spend my last six months." His hands grabbed my face. "You do. Say yes. Say you'll stay, no matter what."

I stared at him.

This was crazy. This would destroy everything.

But I opened my mouth and said it anyway.

"Yes."

His smile made my chest hurt.

"Good. Then let's go meet my fake fiancée my uncle got me.”

CHAPTER SIX AN HEIR OR HER

ZAYN'S POV

My uncle thought he was being helpful.

That's what made it worse. Logan actually believed arranging a surrogate to carry my kid was some kind of gift. A legacy. Like I gave a shit about leaving behind a baby I'd never meet.

The only thing I wished to leave behind was in this room with me, looking at me like I'd just asked her to jump off a cliff.

Which, essentially, I had.

I noticed the way she pressed her body into mine, the little tremors radiating through her.

When have I not noticed everything about her?

I squeezed her hand.

Why? Why the fuck did fate have to bring us together as step-siblings? Who cares about fate and its doings anyway?

I've always taken everything I want, and Emery will never be an exception.

"Ready?" She leaned in and gave me a peck on my cheek.

I saw that mischievous smile as she stepped backward.

I grabbed her from behind, my hand resting on her waist. "Not so soon, Emery." My hand traced along her neckline, gently and slowly, like I was moving through water.

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched her mouth part, and hell, it turned me on.

I wanted to pull back, to control myself, not to take her right here in this room.

But the moment my eyes met those freckles, my thoughts scattered.

I drew her closer, my hand cupping her neck—not hard enough to choke, but enough to leave her breathless.

Our lips were dangerously close. I pressed against her, making her feel exactly what she did to me.

Her hair tumbled down her shoulder, making her look so breathtaking I wanted to stay like this forever.

"You're…"

"Shhh, save your breath till I make you scream." She swallowed hard.

I pulled her closer till our lips nearly touched. I didn't kiss her—I just got lost in the way she stared hungrily at my mouth.

"I'm sorry I took so long, Emery"

She couldn't form words. Only a slight nod.

I licked the tip of her bottom lip. She went still, her body collapsing into mine like dead weight.

"Hmmm," she whispered.

Hell. I loved this. Her voice, her lips, her body, her insecurity about her freckles.

Every damn thing about this woman.

"Say it clearly. Tell me what you want me to do to you. List every fantasy you have, baby. You've got your book boyfriend right here in real life."

Her body trembled, eyes fluttering.

Those words affected her. Fuck, she's so sexy.

I continued teasing her lips, making her swallow down the moan building in her throat. Her nails dug into my arms.

The door jerked open before we could separate.

Well, let them see. I wasn't ready to keep hiding this.

Emery pushed me away, her eyes snapping to the door.

Her breathing was ragged. I drew her back, my eyes still not leaving hers.

"Zayn," she whispered, trying to get out of my grip.

I rolled my eyes. Who ruined my moment?

A maid.

Standing still in the doorway, her eyes wide like saucers, drained of all color.

"Laila!" Emery finally got out of my grip and gave the maid an awkward smile.

"Did you see…" I didn't get to finish. Laila—or whatever her name was—ran out of the room like she'd just seen the sun fall from the sky.

Emery began to panic. "Someone saw us, Zayn. She's so close with my mother." She started pacing. "What if she decides to tell my mom?"

"That's exactly what I'd love to happen. Think about it, Em. If we head downstairs, I'll probably have no choice but to listen to my father's pleas." I paused, letting that sink in. "This is the only way. We have to let them know about us."

No response came from her. I knew she was weighing her choices.

"I'll respect your decision, whether we tell them or not," I assured her.

"Uncle Logan's right."

No, no. Fuck no.

"He's not," my voice was rising.

"You need to give your father an heir."

Now I hated this. "What are you insinuating? That I should father an heir through another woman? This is not a conversation." I let go of her arm.

"Zayn…"

I ignored her eyes. "Let's head downstairs."

I was already walking off. She's scared, and I'm selfish.

But I'm not leaving this world without having her to myself.

The last thing I should ever wish to have.

She trailed behind me till we got downstairs.

"Son, you're here."

I greeted my father, and Emery did the same.

"It's the same as what the doctor in Minnesota said. The tumor is in an inoperable location. Surgery would be fatal," Emery said quietly.

"Oh heavens, Emery." Richard clutched his chest, his legs shaking like he might fall.

I quickly moved to him and steadied him. He looked at me and lifted his hand to my face.

"Your uncle left just now. He proposed... the inevitable. You need an heir."

I broke his gaze.

"The company will be in ruins without it. My legacy—yours—will be destroyed. No one will be left of our bloodline, son." My father's tears ran freely down his face. "I've never forced you into things. But this... we're running out of time."

For the first time since I'd arrived, I was speechless.

Emery looked away from me, her face etched with hurt.

The room fell silent, everyone waiting for my decision.

"I have someone in mind already. I'm ready to father her child. She's…"

Emery's face went pale.

Saying this without her consent was selfish as hell.

Oh fuck. Since when did I start putting others first?

I shut my eyes. The words danced on my lips.

"You've found someone? That's wonderful news!" Her mother squealed.

"Yes. And she's right here in..."