When I turned 18, my mother married my stepfather, a retired mafia kingpin, and I moved with her into a luxurious mansion.
Just when I thought my life was heading toward happiness, my stepbrother, the new mafia boss, stormed into my life.
He was like a devil, with delicate eyebrows, a high, sharp nose, and lips that were always tightly pressed together beneath a cold expression. Every time our eyes met, I felt a chill run through me, making it hard to breathe.
I tried my best to avoid him, but he had no intention of letting me go.
“My stepsister, from the moment I first saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. You can’t escape—you’re destined to be mine.”
I stared into his possessive eyes as his body pressed down on mine.
“No, you're my stepbrother, we can't……"

Falling for My Mafia Stepbrother

Megan was desperate. She was just a woman, while these men—tall, brutal gangsters—had no qualms about violence. In her mind, Harper had already left Detroit, driven away by her brother. Who would come to save her now?


“If her friend likes playing hero for w.hores, let’s give her a good show and film it all,” one of the men sneered as they began tearing at Megan’s clothes. She screamed until her voice went hoarse, her jacket already ripped open. She shut her eyes, bracing for the worst.


Suddenly, there were screams—but not hers. Megan opened her eyes to see a tall figure approaching. Broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, his gaze was downcast, his presence filled with menace. He didn’t even look directly at her, but his presence alone was oppressive.


One of the younger men standing beside him handed Megan a jacket, and she clutched it tightly around her torn clothes.


“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.


75 Go to the hotel together