My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 144: Shattered

Catherine’s POV 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

The drive back to the mansion was the loudest silence I had ever experienced. Gabriel’s hands were clamped onto the steering wheel at ten and two, his knuckles so white. He didn’t look at the mirrors, and he didn’t look at me. He just stared at the road with a concentrated angry gaze. Every time he shifted gears, the movement was jagged and violent, making the car lurch forward.

"Gabriel?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Are you okay? Did I do something to upset you?"

He didn’t blink. He didn’t even acknowledge that I had spoken. His jaw was set so tight I could see the muscles in his neck straining.

I tried again five minutes later. "Gabe, talk to me. If this is about me wandering off, you don’t have to worry. I wasn’t alone. I was with Kiera’s brother and he was very much protective of me."

Again, nothing. He just pressed harder on the gas, the needle on the speedometer climbing higher. I leaned back into the leather seat, clutching the lapels of the leather jacket draped over my shoulders. I didn’t understand why Gabriel was acting this way. Usually, he was the calm one, the one who buffered the tension between Julian and Richard. Tonight, he was different.

When we finally reached the gates of the mansion, he slammed on the brakes so hard I was thrown forward against the seatbelt. The car hissed as it came to a dead stop.

"Get out," his voice was flat, devoid of any warmth, sounding more like Richard than I ever thought possible.

I blinked, looking at the house. "What? Aren’t you coming in? Are you that mad at me? I’m sorry....."

".... For whatever I did."

"I said get out of the car, Catherine." He finally turned his head to look at me, and the sheer fury in his eyes made my breath hitch. "Get out. Now."

I scrambled for the door handle, my heart hammering against my ribs. I stepped out of the car, the heavy hem of my blue ballgown rustling around my ankles. Before I could even close the door properly or ask what was wrong, Gabriel shifted into reverse. He didn’t wait. He floored it, the tires screeching as he made a violent U-turn and sped away.

I stood there, stunned into silence. I had no idea what had just happened. I turned to the gate and let myself in, shaking partly from the cold, but mostly from the confusion of the entire night.

I climbed the stairs, and headed straight for my bedroom. I needed to take off this dress, wash the scent of the gala off my skin, and try to sleep.

I pushed my bedroom door open. The room was pitch black. I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, and reached for the light switch.

When the light turned on, I let out a sharp cry and jumped back, hitting the door.

Julian was sitting on the edge of my bed.

"God! What the fuck are you doing in my room, Julian?!" I gasped, clutching my chest. He fucking scared me.

"Sorry," he said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. He stood up slowly, his movements deliberate. He had ditched his tuxedo jacket and tie; his white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and his sleeves were rolled up.

He walked toward me, and I stood my ground, though every instinct told me to run. As he got closer, his eyes began to roam over my body. He wasn’t looking at my face. He was looking at the oversized black leather jacket hanging off my shoulders. I saw the exact moment his expression shifted. The exhaustion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a pure, terrifying rage.

He stopped when he was inches away. I could feel the heat coming off him, the smell of expensive scotch and cold anger. He was so close our bodies were almost touching.

"Is that his?" Julian asked. His voice was a low, clenched growl that vibrated in the small space between us. He reached out, his hand hovering near the collar of the jacket but not touching it. "Is this Dante’s jacket, Catherine?"

I held my breath, my heart racing. For a second, the old habit of trying to soothe him almost took over. But then, the image of him on that stage flashed in my mind. I saw him holding Lucy. I saw him kissing her. I remembered how he had left the gala without a word to me.

The fear vanished, replaced by anger.

I put my hands on his chest and pushed him. I used every bit of strength I had, forcing him back a couple of steps. He looked shocked that I did that.

"It’s none of your business whose jacket this is, Julian," I said, and walked past him toward my dressing table, my voice trembling with a mixture of tears and spite. "You don’t get to come into my room and interrogate me. Not tonight. Not ever again."

I didn’t hear him move, but suddenly he was right there. He followed me, stepping up behind me as I sat down. In the mirror, I saw him loom over me. He didn’t grab me. Instead, he did something worse. He pressed his stomach against my back, leaning down so his presence enveloped me. He reached out, his fingers slow and steady as he gathered my hair, pulling it over my left shoulder to expose the line of my neck and ear.

I shivered, but I refused to move.

He bent his head, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from my ear. "Is he that hot, Catherine?" he whispered. The words were jagged, filled with a bitter jealousy that felt like poison. "Is he so hard to resist that you can’t control yourself? Did you enjoy his kiss that much? I didn’t think you’d act like a slut, letting a guy you barely know have access to you the second my back was turned."

The word slut hit me like a physical strike. My brain went white. The pain of the last few hours, the humiliation, and the heartbreak all converged into one singular point of fury.

I spun around in the space so fast I nearly knocked the things on the table over. Before he could react, I stood up and swung my hand. The slap echoed through the room. My palm burned from the impact against his cheek.

Julian’s head snapped to the side. He stayed like that for a long moment, the red mark of my hand beginning to glow against his pale skin.

"How dare you," I choked out. My eyes were burning with tears that I refused to let fall. My fists were clenched so tight my nails were digging into my palms. "How dare you judge me? You stood on that stage and told the world you loved her. You kissed her in front of everyone! You made me a spectator to your ’reconciliation’ and then you left me at the hall like I was garbage."

Julian turned his face back to mine. His eyes were wide, the rage replaced by a stunned sort of silence, but I wasn’t finished.

"You have no right to tell me who I can kiss or whose jacket I can wear," I said, my voice cracking. "You threw me away, Julian. You chose Richard. You chose Lucy. So fine. You have what you wanted. Now get out of my room!"

I pointed toward the door, my body shaking with the force of my breathing. "Get out! Go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone!"

Julian opened his mouth to say something, his eyes searching mine, but I didn’t give him the chance. I turned my back on him, staring at my reflection in the mirror until I heard the heavy sound of my bedroom door clicking shut. Only then did I let the first sob break through.