My Stepbrother Wants Me Chapter 4: Thinking Of Her

Julian’s POV

I saw Catherine standing by the shelf like she had every right to exist there. I didn’t say a word at first. I just watched her squirm. There was sothing satisfying about seeing her flinch when she finally noticed leaning on the doorfra.

"Catherine?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck are you everywhere?" My voice ca out flat, low, almost bored.

She spun around, stamring. "I—uh—I was just looking for—"

"Spare dignity?" I asked, pushing off the door. "Because I’m fresh out."

Color flushed up her neck. "I didn’t an to—"

"Yeah, that’s your trademark, isn’t it? ’Didn’t an to.’" I walked past her. "Next ti you feel like trespassing, go through the maid’s quarters. You’ll blend in better."

Her mouth fell open. "Julian, what is your problem with ?"

"Don’t." I turned, cutting her off. "You don’t get to say my na like we’re friends. You’re barely a guest here. Don’t forget it."

She blinked fast, swallowing whatever coback she thought she had, and I could see her eyes glossing over. She always looked like she was seconds away from tears, very pathetic. I walked out before she could say anything else. I wasn’t about to waste oxygen on a charity case.

By morning, the mory of her standing in my way like a thief had faded into background irritation, right next to the noise of my father’s campaign ads echoing through the house.

I buttoned my shirt, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear, while Ethan’s voice poured through the line.

"So, how’s life in the political circus? Heard the latest news about your father marrying another woman."

"Kill ," I muttered, adjusting my tie. "That man is being a pain in my ass, I can’t hold it much longer."

"Tempting, but you’re too entertaining alive. Your old man is still trying to buy the city’s affection?"

"He calls it ’public service.’ I call it hypocrisy with better lighting."

Ethan snorted. "You sound thrilled."

"Thrilled is when the bar runs out of scotch and I get to leave early."

There was a pause. I knew that tone in his silence, he was contemplating bringing sothing up, probably sothing I would hate to hear.

"So..." he started, drawing it out, "how’s the stepsister? I an I heard other than the wife, there’s a new addition to the family?"

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. "She’s breathing, unfortunately."

"You already hate her that bad, huh?"

"She’s a walking apology," I said. "Always bumping into walls, whispering sorry, blinking like a lost rabbit. I don’t know why he brought her and her mother into this house. They don’t belong here."

Ethan laughed. "Now, you sound jealous."

"Of what? Her thrift-store wardrobe or her talent for looking useless?"

"Co on, that’s not what matters. Tell what she looks like. Is she hot? I an those curves, are they there?"

I barked a humorless laugh. "I wouldn’t know. I don’t look at trash long enough to judge the shine."

"Damn," he said, still laughing. "You really despise this girl, now I’m eager to et her."

"I hate what she represents. They are just another prop for my father’s ’family values’ campaign. Another reminder that everything about him is fake."

"Then maybe you should use her."

I frowned. "Use her? What do you an?"

"Yeah," Ethan replied in a casual tone. "If you still want to screw over the campaign, you have a chance now. Make it look like you’re in so scandal with her. Nothing tanks a ’family man’ faster than his son fooling around with his step-whatever."

I scoffed. "You’re out of your mind."

"Co on, Jules. You love chaos."

"I love intelligence too and trust , this girl lacks it." I pulled on my jacket. "Besides, she’d probably faint if I even stood too close. I’m not in the mood to play babysitter to a human embarrassnt."

"Suit yourself but I’m telling you that if you want to hit where it hurts, that’s the move."

"I’d rather drink bleach."

Ethan laughed again. "You say that now..."

I hung up before he could finish.

—

By noon, the house was swarming with assistants, reporters, and the kind of fake smiles that made my skin crawl. A private campaign interview, which was Father’s idea of damage control after so articles accused him of being too distant from "ordinary families." He thought shoving us all in front of a few caras would make him look human.

I sat on the edge of the sofa, scrolling through my phone, acting like I didn’t care. Showing up was already enough for Richard.

Across the room, Gabriel and Catherine were standing together, even though it seed she was fidgeting with her dress.

Her mother called for her and whispered instructions beside her, both of them looking like this life wasn’t made for them at all.

Father entered with his usual politician grin asking if everyone was ready. He walked over to and whispered, "rember to keep a smile in check."

I almost laughed. Of course, that’s all he cared for.

The interviewer and the other present local journalist who were all desperate for a quote, greeted him with over-polished enthusiasm. "Mayor Vaughn! We’re honored to finally have this mont with you. Mind introducing us to the family?"

"Sure," Father replied proudly. "My wonderful wife, my beautiful daughter, and my sons, Julian and Gabriel."

I forced a polite nod, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes.

We sat on the couch for the opening shots and caras began to blink.

Catherine sat to my right, close enough that I could sll her shampoo. I hated that I liked the sll.

Well, the interviewer’s questions began and they were predictable. "How does it feel balancing political duty with family life?" "What values do you hope to instill in the next generation?"

Father gave perfect answers. His wife nodded. Catherine tried to smile. Gabriel gave his full support, answering questions I should have while I stayed quiet until the interviewer looked at directly.

"And you, Julian? What do you admire most about your father?"

"His ability to lie without blinking," this would have been my reply, instead, I said, "His commitnt to appearances."

Father’s hand tightened on his knee, it was more of a warning. I noticed and gave him a bland smile.

The interviewer chuckled awkwardly. "You an his dedication?"

"Sure," I said. "Let’s go with that."

A few assistants exchanged glances. Catherine shifted uncomfortably beside . I could feel her trying not to move, without drawing attention.

When the session ended, the crew decided to get so B-roll shots of us walking down the staircase together like one big happy family.

Catherine went first, her hand gripping the rail. She moved too fast, probably trying to keep up appearances, but her heel snagged the carpet in the process, causing her to wobble forward.

I reacted before thinking and shot my hand out, gripping her waist. Her body was warm, trembling. For a second, her back was against my chest, causing both her scent and panic to fill my lungs.

Then I realized what I was doing and quickly dropped her like she was burning. She stumbled but caught herself, then turned to with wide eyes. "Thank you—"

"Save it," I snapped. "Next ti, watch where the hell you’re walking."

Her face fell, color rushing back to her cheeks. She muttered sothing that sounded like an apology.

"Don’t," I said, brushing past her. "I already told you, I don’t like hearing my na in your mouth so keep it shut."

Father’s voice rang from downstairs. "Is everything okay up there?"

"Perfect," I said flatly, descending the stairs like nothing happened.

Catherine followed, slower this ti, her steps asured and careful. I didn’t bother looking back.

When the crew finally left, Father clapped on the shoulder. "Good job today, son. Keep that charm going and we’ll have no problems between us."

"Whatever helps you sleep," I muttered.

He frowned. "Julian, you can’t keep talking to this way, it is disrespectful. I am your father."

"You do not deserve respect. You lost it the day you threw Mom out of this house."

His jaw tightened. "You’ve always had it all wrong. I didn’t throw your mother out, she left, she abandoned us."

I smiled, cold and lazy. "I’m sorry, your cheap lies can’t work on ."

He looked at briefly, then walked away, still muttering sothing about being my father. I watched him go, the back of his suit stiff with pride and deceit.

Catherine passed by next, her eyes downcast as she held into a stack of folders. She looked exhausted and for the first ti, I really looked at her body.

She was petite and had the curves that Ethan asked about. I hated to admit it but her body look perfect.

"What the hell is wrong with ?" I muttered when it dawned on that I was thinking about the step daughter in the unholiest way. I needed a drink or a lobotomy, anything to get back in the right fra of mind.