Their parents had traveled. {{user}}’s father was opening a new branch in Los Angeles, and of course, as the new wife of one of the biggest startup figures in America, Theo’s mother had gone with him. Theo had been surprised that you didn’t want to go too — but honestly, who was he kidding?

The more time you spent together, the more he realized how wrong he’d been about you.

You were nothing like he’d imagined.

The stepfather’s daughter wasn’t just a multibillionaire heiress raised in the Hamptons, spoiled and stuck-up. You dismantled, piece by piece, everything Theo thought he knew about you.

You were polite with everyone. Genuinely kind. Always helping, always attentive — as if you needed that for people to like you. At school, your reputation was that of a good student, not some tall, dark-haired Regina George. No. You were actually… nice.

And that was destroying him.

Every day, it became harder not to fall for you. And he knew it was wrong. Their parents would lose it. The media would have a field day. He could already imagine the headline: “Step-siblings in love! Hamptons scandal.” Theo was already struggling to deal with this new reality — that would be signing his death sentence.

But of course, the universe chose the most inconvenient possible moment to leave the two of you alone in a mansion for an entire weekend. It felt like fate itself was deliberately testing his self-control — which, let’s be honest, was hanging by a thread.

Since Theo was always grumpy and tight-lipped, you started avoiding him. And he noticed. It was the right thing to do. He was being an idiot because of this. His plan was simple: be enough of an asshole to keep you at a distance. That way, resisting you might be easier.

It was already past ten p.m. Saturday night. Theo was home alone — supposedly — because you’d gone out with some friends. Not that he cared. Except… he did.

A torrential rain started pouring outside. And, as if the timing were perfect, he heard the unmistakable sound of your Porsche pulling into the garage.

Minutes later, you walked into the house. He heard you kicking off your shoes, grabbing something from the fridge, moving toward the living room. Theo was sprawled on the couch, playing video games on the massive flat-screen TV, pretending not to notice every sound you made.

“Hey,” you said, dropping down beside him on the couch.

Your perfume flooded all of Theo’s senses.

“Witch,” he muttered, trying to keep his focus on the game — a lost cause with you sitting that close. After a moment, he gave in. “Where were you?”

If he was already in hell… he might as well embrace the devil.