Read Billionaire Stepbrother: Winter (Our Forbidden Year Book 3) for Free Online Page B

soon. I had to get her alone.
    “Not so far, but the day’s not over yet,” I said as my eyes flickered to Aimee’s.
    Finally a smile, a tiny one, but I’d managed to coax one from Aimee’s lips. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing I was? I wanted to unwrap her like a gift, peel away the layers of her dress and get to the good stuff beneath.
    Had she forgiven me? I wanted to know badly, and I tried to meet her eyes again, but hers were fixed downward, concentrating on her meal.
    Loretta’s eyebrow arched as she studied where my gaze had landed. “I see.” Loretta issued a polite cough and rose from the table. “Excuse me, I won’t be a moment. Aimee, care to help me in the kitchen?” Puzzled and unsure as to her intentions, Aimee put down her utensils and followed her mother.
    This can’t be good . I watched them leave, Loretta’s mouth whispering dangerous words into Aimee’s head. My father seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings, three sheets to the wind, as he swallowed another mouthful of sherry.
    “Another?” I asked him.
    He nodded, “Why not? It’s Christmas, after all.” I got up and took our glasses to the drinks trolley that was positioned close the kitchen entrance, allowing me to overhear Loretta and Aimee’s one–sided conversation.
    “—told you to end it. You’re going to ruin everything. The scandal alone will destroy your stepfather! Is that what you want?” I could hear Loretta hiss. Aimee was obviously too stunned to reply. Come on Aimee, I thought, stand up to her. Don’t let her speak to you like that.
    I poured the drinks, taking my time with each movement, unstopping the decanter and slowly easing the dark, golden liquid into each glass.
    “If I find out you’ve shacked up with him again, I’ll send you so far away your head will spin. Do you fucking understand?” Loretta continued. How did my father not see through her pretence? Her posh accent slipped, and guttural nuances poked through. “Answer me, you little bitch.”
    That was the last straw.
    I calmly laid the glasses upon the tray and walked into the kitchen to confront Loretta. Her face bulged with rage. She had managed to corner Aimee, who stood mute, pinned against the island. Loretta stepped back and quickly attempted to mask her face with a sickly smile. But it was too late; she knew I’d overheard her little diatribe.
    “Aimee,” I walked towards the pair. She looked up, gratitude filling her eyes. “I want you to go back into the dining room. Take my father his drink and wait for me, OK?”
    Her head nodded rapidly, and she scurried away like a timid mouse.
    Once she was gone I turned my attention to Loretta, who tried to pretend I wasn’t there. Her hands busied themselves, removing a Christmas cake from the packaging the caterers had left. Of course she wouldn’t have entertained the notion of cooking Christmas dinner from scratch. No, instead she’d had an army of caterers to make sure it was all prepped and ready for her to serve.
    “You seem to enjoy making threats, Loretta,” I said casually, and I reached into my jacket’s inner pocket.
    “Just an everyday misunderstanding between a mother and her daughter. Did you never fight with your own mother?” she asked, her eyes as cold as ice, trying desperately to hurt me, to get beneath my skin.
    I laughed but ignored the question, content in knowing that her world was about to shatter. I placed the folder that Steve had given me earlier onto the counter–top and slid it across to her.
    “What’s that?” she asked, her steely demeanour wavering.
    “Oh, I think you know exactly what it is,” I grinned, moving closer to her.
    “How?” she asked, her voice quaked.
    “The how doesn’t matter now.”
    She swallowed and looked at me, her eyes pleading.
    “I’ll give you two choices.” I held up a finger to her face. “One, you march into the dining room and tell my father it’s over, that you demand a divorce.”
    Her knees