top of page

Beauitful Sin / The Brothers Series - Coming Soon: Chapters Teaser

Writer's picture: Zara LeeZara Lee


The Brothers Series is Getting a Sexy New Makeover!


I'm beyond excited to announce that your favorite stepbrothers are coming back—bigger, steamier, and more irresistible than ever!


The Brothers Series has been completely reimagined and expanded into the Beautiful Sin Series, starting with Beautiful Sin. This isn't just a simple revision—I've completely rewritten every book from the ground up, adding new chapters, expanding existing scenes, and diving deeper into the deliciously complicated dynamics between Haru and his stepbrothers.


And the best part? The first book, Beautiful Sin, will be FREE to download across all major ebook platforms! Yes, you read that right—Amazon, Apple Books, Google Play, Smashwords, Kobo, Barnes & Noble—wherever you prefer to get your steamy reads.


What's new in the Beautiful Sin Series?

  • Significantly longer books with extended chapters

  • Fresh writing style and perspective

  • Additional steamy scenes and witty banter

  • Enhanced character development and deeper storylines

  • New books expanding beyond the original four

  • Each book ends with a happy-for-now ending as the series progresses


Since these books will be published under new titles and IDs, make sure to stay tuned for the download links. I'll be sharing them as soon as they're live!


To give you a taste of what's coming, here's the description of Beautiful Sin, followed by the first three chapters. I think you'll agree—this isn't your mother's stepbrother romance! 😉



Beautiful Sin Series


Rule #1 of living with four stepbrothers: Don’t fall in love with any of them. Too late!

 

Living with four gorgeous stepbrothers sounds like a dream, right? More like my personal nightmare—especially when one glimpse of Aiden’s face sends my heart racing and my mind straight to the gutter.

 

Try keeping your cool when the object of your affection wakes you every morning with that killer smile, fusses over you like a mother hen, and walks around looking like sin personified. I know it’s wrong to crave his touch, his attention, his love. He’s made it crystal clear he views me as nothing more than a little brother who needs protecting. But my traitorous heart refuses to listen to reason.

 

My brilliant solution is to move out before I combust from unrequited love. Simple, right? If only my heart would get with the program. And if only Aiden was my only problem...

 

Because when it comes to forbidden desire, one stepbrother is dangerous enough. Three? That’s impossible to resist.

 

Beautiful Sin is a steamy MM stepbrother romance featuring a snarky protagonist caught between three irresistible stepbrothers. With enough sexual tension to power a small city and more pining than should fit in a walk-in closet, this story proves that sometimes the most dangerous sins are the most beautiful. Each book in the series ends with a happy-for-now ending as Haru's journey unfolds across multiple books.

 

Content Warning: Contains explicit MM content. This series features one protagonist with multiple male love interests (reverse harem, one bottom/three tops), with the protagonist finding love with his stepbrothers one book at a time. Recommended for readers 18+.

 

Note to Readers: Beautiful Sin is part of the reimagined and expanded Brothers Series (previously published as Haru to Aiden, Aiden to Haru, Noah to Haru, and Mason to Haru). While following the same core storyline, this new edition reads almost like a completely different series with:

  • Significantly longer books with extended chapters

  • Fresh writing style and perspective

  • Additional steamy scenes and witty banter

  • Enhanced character development and deeper storylines

  • Each book ends with a happy-for-now ending as the series progresses

 

Each book in the new series has been completely rewritten while maintaining the heart of the original story, offering both new and returning readers a fresh and enhanced experience.



 


Teasers


Chapter 1

 

Haru

 

The first time I met Aiden, I was an eight-year-old tyke fresh off the plane from Japan, complete with a killer cold and jet lag that would’ve knocked out a sumo wrestler. There we were—Mom, my half-brother Reo, and yours truly—landing in New York in the middle of winter.


Then he appeared. Twenty-year-old Aiden Davis, looking like he’d stepped straight out of a glossy magazine. He took my hands in his much larger ones and hit me with the most heart-stopping smile I’d ever seen. My eight-year-old brain short-circuited, and something in my chest did this weird flutter thing that I’d never felt before, and honestly, never quite went away.


“Hello, Haru,” he’d said, all warmth and sunshine. “My name is Aiden. I’ve heard so much about you from Dad, and I’m glad to finally meet you. We’re going to be brothers soon. Isn’t that great? I’m going to take good care of you.”


For a kid who’d grown up in the Japanese countryside where seeing a blonde person was about as common as finding a unicorn, Aiden was like staring directly into the sun—beautiful, blinding, and impossible to look away from. Those hazel-green eyes and that golden hair? Culture shock. I spent years following him around like a lost puppy, memorizing everything about him—the way he’d ruffle my hair, how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, even the exact tone of his voice when he called my name. God, I was such a lovesick kid.


I was caught. Hook, line, and sinker. Brothers, he’d said. We were going to be brothers. Back then, everything seemed so simple: Mom, new dad Michael Davis, new brothers Aiden, Noah, Mason, and Isaac, plus Reo and me. One big happy family, right?


If only.


That fairy tale lasted five beautiful years before everything changed. Mom and Stepdad’s accident left a hole in our lives that we’re still trying to fill. The six of us brothers, we held onto each other like anchors in a storm—and somehow, we made it through. But for me? Life had another twist in store.


Three years ago, something shifted, and that gorgeous face that used to fill me with childish wonder now belongs in the category of “Things That Should Come With a Warning Label.” What’s worse is that those childhood butterflies never really went away—they mutated into hormone-fueled dragons with X-rated thoughts. Every smile, every casual touch, every time he walks by... God, it’s like my body’s staging a full-blown rebellion against the “brothers” label while my brain’s losing the civil war. Usually, I want to either jump his bones or jump off a cliff—sometimes both.


“Haru? Wake up! It’s already half past seven.”


Speaking of that face—there it was, attached to that deep voice that had no business being so... everything.


If I were to catalog every possible way to be rudely awakened, Aiden Davis insisting I leave my cozy cocoon of blankets at half past seven would be near the top. Though if I’m being honest, I’d rather stay right here with him hovering over my bed—a thought I immediately tried to strangle in its cradle.


I blinked, and my bleary eyes landed on his infuriatingly handsome face—one that could charm birds from trees and has left a long trail of swooning women in its wake. Oh, and apparently, one extremely conflicted younger stepbrother.


Having him this close was doing dangerous things to my sanity—and my libido. Both of which needed to shut up immediately because this was Aiden. My stepbrother. The guy who’d taught me how to ride a bike and helped me with my English homework. Not someone I should want to keep staring at like he was the eighth wonder of the world.


My heart stuttered like a teen girl witnessing a boy band, which only annoyed me further. Really, heart? Now? It was too early for this nonsense.


I grumbled and rolled away from him. “Did I not memo you on the whole ‘no entry’ policy, Aiden? Or do I need to install a lock the size of Fort Knox on my door?”

Privacy. It’s a life concept, ever heard of it?


But he just laughed, the sound rumbling like a well-tuned engine. “Sorry, but some habits are stickier than day-old soda. I’m your morning alarm, remember?” His laugh suggested he found my disheveled state adorable. Me, Haru, the supposedly mature college student, “adorable”? Spare me.


“You better get up, or you’ll be late for that job of yours,” he pointed out, forever the responsible one.


“Yeah, I’ll rise and shine the second your face isn’t the first thing I see in the morning,” I shot back. I prided myself on my cutting wit, especially before the caffeine hit my system.


He still took it as a joke. Always the cheerful one, brushing off my snark like it was just a fluff on his shoulder.


“You used to love seeing my face first thing in the morning,” he mused, sitting down on my bed and leaning over me while I pretended I was a burrito. “Remember how you’d sprawl on top of me until I woke up, just so you could stare at my face and be the first to say good morning? What happened?” he questioned, the picture of innocence.


Oh, I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with the minor detail of me spectacularly falling for you. That might just do it.


Muttering into my fortress of bed sheets, I gripped the fabric like it was my lifeline. “People change.”


“What was that, Haru? Did I hear you mumble?” he prodded.


I threw back the covers like they’d offended me and sat up, staring him down. “I said, people change, Aiden.”


He smiled, the jerk. “There you are. Finally awake.” He had the audacity to ruffle my hair like I was a particularly cute puppy, rather than a grown man with a functioning libido. “Morning, Haru. Did dreamland treat you well?”


My cheek flushed hotter than July in Death Valley. Sure, let’s share that I fantasized about you last night, and by fantasized, I mean imagining your hands all over me, pushing me against walls, those perfect lips trailing down my neck, and—God—the things I wanted you to do to me on every flat surface in this house.


I pushed his hand away, trying not to betray the fact that I had been dreaming of doing unspeakably naughty things to him. Things that would make our brotherly morning routine really, really awkward if he knew half of what went through my head when he looked at me like that.


“It’s okay. Sleep is sleep,” I brushed it off, my voice as dry as my wit.


“You seem moody today,” he observed, cocking that damn head to the side.


Using more force than I’d like to admit, considering the difference in our sizes, I nuded him off my bed. His constant parade of girlfriends should have clued him in on the appeal of his six-foot-tall, athletic build and the smile that could launch a thousand ships. But me? I barely scraped by over five feet five. No wonder I was dubbed cute—apparently the universal descriptor for adults the size of hobbits.


In the Davis-Ono household, we were all assigned our roles like some twisted genetic beauty pageant. Aiden was the gorgeous one—walking proof that God played favorites. Noah was broodingly handsome—he’d perfected that moody romance novel hero stare down to an art form. Reo was the hot Asian one, a title he wore like a crown while the rest of us rolled our eyes. Mason was stunning, which felt like someone had flipped through a thesaurus and picked the first fancy word they found. Isaac was the pretty one, which sounded like what you say when you’ve run out of compliments but still need to be nice. And me? I was perpetually beautiful and cute—words that made me want to gag every time they used them. Being barely five-foot-five apparently relegated you to the realm of puppies and plushies. At this point, I was pretty sure my growth spurt had gotten lost in the mail along with my dignity.


As Aiden stood up, I seized the opportunity. “I’m getting ready, so if you’d be so kind as to vanish?”


“I got it, I got it,” he conceded, but not before throwing one last grin over his shoulder. “You want a ride to work?”


I shook my head vigorously. “No. I’ve got a bike and I’m not five, despite appearances. I can take care of myself, funnily enough.” I wasn’t subtle in my frustration.


Aiden, bless his ever-pampering soul, chuckled. “Old habits die hard, don’t they?” The way he ruffled my hair made me want to purr like a cat and die of shame simultaneously.


Tell me something I didn’t know. Like how to not melt into a puddle every time your irritatingly perfect older stepbrother showed even an ounce of concern. Or maybe how to actually function like a proper adult instead of this disaster-in-progress masquerading as a human being.


At eighteen, I’d somehow achieved the impossible trifecta: virgin, social hermit, and living proof that popularity could be your worst enemy. Sure, girls flocked to me like I was giving away free concert tickets, and guys kept finding excuses to “help me with homework,” but my social skills remained firmly at “please don’t talk to me” level. Parties? My entire strategy was enter-avoid-escape, executed with the stealth of a ninja with social anxiety. The last time someone asked me out, I literally hid in the library for three days. My relationship status wasn’t just single—it was aggressively, pathologically single.


And then there was the tiny, insignificant detail that made everything else look like a minor inconvenience: I was hopelessly, ridiculously, catastrophically in love with Aiden. Because apparently, my life needed that extra sprinkle of complicated on top.


I lay there, my heart performing its usual gymnastics routine—probably training for the Olympics of Emotional Turmoil. At this point, the pain in my chest deserved its own zip code and property taxes. Maybe I could rent it out to other hopeless cases.


Shaking off the funk, I tugged at my sleep shirt—an ancient hand-me-down from Noah that was practically a dress on me—trying to keep at least one shoulder from slipping off completely. Not that it ever worked. I strode out to face the world—or at least the very cramped, one-bathroom hallway of our apartment.


And there was Noah, fresh from his morning torture session—I mean, run—all six-feet-plus of sweaty perfection that made Greek gods look like amateurs. He gave me that patented brooding stare, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in a really, Haru? expression. The fact that he could look like a Men’s Health cover model while literally dripping with post-run sweat was just another cosmic joke at my expense. I mean, who actually looks good in running shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top? Noah Davis, apparently.


“Yeah, stayed up late,” I said, omitting the sordid details that kept me tossing and turning.


“You’re new to the job; don’t muck it up,” Mr. Responsibility lectured, droplets of sweat from his run still glistening on his skin like morning dew, trailing down his chest like some kind of unfairly attractive cologne commercial. If life had a hall monitor, Noah would be it, probably writing citations for improper life choices while wearing his badge of perpetual perfectionism.


“I’ll be on time. Post-shower and sans breakfast,” I assured him, probably with enough sass to give a drag queen a run for her money.


“No, no, no. Breakfast, then work,” he insisted, like he was speaking to a particularly slow child. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, okay, drill sergeant.


I could have stood there arguing with him all morning, but my bladder was sending me an SOS, so I cut it short with a promise to ingest the most important meal of the day. However, Noah, ever the tyrant, wasn’t done with me yet. His hand slid roughly from my hair to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him—a move that never failed to make me want to bite his fingers off.


“Have you even washed your face? You look like death warmed over,” he criticized, his thumb rough against my cheek. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to scrub my face clean or leave a permanent mark.


“Get off me,” I growled, shoving at his chest. Bad move. My palm met solid muscle, slick with sweat, and my brain short-circuited for a dangerous second. Noah only tightened his grip, pulling me closer until I could smell his post-run musk. Damn him for making even sweat smell good.


“Make me,” he challenged, voice low and gravelly. His other hand came up to brush away my bedhead, probably just to annoy me further. His eyes traced down to where his old shirt had slipped off my shoulder again, lingering a beat too long before snapping back to my face. “You’re a mess, little brother.”


“I need to pee, you absolute tyrant,” I snapped, trying to duck under his arm.


He finally released me with a smirk. “Better hurry then. And wash your face while you’re in there—some of us have to look at you all day.”


“Some of us have to smell you all day,” I shot back, already backing away. “Ever heard of post-workout showers?”


“Ever heard of morning routines?” he called after me as I escaped down the hallway.


I flipped him off without looking back, ignoring how my skin still tingled where he’d touched it. God, why did he always have to be so aggressive about everything?


After escaping his manhandling—and resisting the urge to rub my probably bruised chin—I made a beeline for the bathroom, hoping against hope nobody was conducting a symphony in there.


Luck—or maybe just the absence of constipated brothers—was on my side, and Isaac bounded out like a human ray of sunshine, his perpetual whistle carrying some Top 40 tune. His whole face lit up when he saw me, like I was his favorite person in the world.


“Morning, grumpy!” he chirped, throwing an arm around my shoulders despite my best impression of a statue. “Bathroom’s all yours.”


I nodded, managing a small smile that only Isaac could ever coax out of me this early, and locked myself in the tiny tiled sanctuary. Let’s be real, this apartment and all its dysfunctional charm was more a lovable prison than a loving home. I’d had enough. By the end of summer, I made a mental promise to myself—I’d be out of here, brothers’ opinions be damned.


 

Chapter 2

 

Morning light spilled across the cramped living room-cum-dining room-cum-kitchen, making the chipped paint look almost intentionally distressed rather than just old. Aiden nursed his coffee, the aroma blending with the mouthwatering scent of Reo’s perfectly seasoned eggs and French toast. Even on a shoestring budget, his Japanese stepbrother managed to turn their bargain-bin ingredients into something that could pass for actual cuisine. A pile of bills peeked from beneath a loaf of store-brand bread, their numbers the only unappetizing thing on the table.


Reo leaned against the counter, sipping his own coffee with that knowing glint in his smoky-dark eyes that always spelled trouble. "What's wrong?" he asked, studying Aiden like he was analyzing a business proposal. "You're staring at that hallway like it owes you money."


“What do you mean?” Aiden focused on his coffee, pretending he hadn’t been straining his ears for sounds of movement from Haru’s converted closet-bedroom.


“You seem preoccupied.” Reo said. “Your coffee’s getting cold, and you haven’t even complimented my cooking yet. I’m wounded.”


“Your culinary genius continues to astound me,” Aiden deadpanned, though his fond smile betrayed him. “Happy now? Or should I write you a five-star review for our poverty-chic kitchen?”


“I’ll settle for you actually drinking your coffee before it becomes a science experiment,” Reo replied, nodding at Aiden’s untouched mug.


Aiden lifted the cup to his lips, but his attention drifted back to the hallway. The image of Haru from earlier flashed unbidden in his mind—drowning in Noah’s old shirt, one pale shoulder peeking out like some Renaissance painting come to life. Beautiful. The word had floated through his mind before he could stop it, followed by an inexplicable urge to... He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was Haru—his adorable little brother who needed protecting, not...


"You're hovering again," Reo's knowing tone pulled him back to reality. A smirk played on his lips as he added, "Though I suppose that protective streak runs deeper than the ocean."


Aiden set his mug down with more force than necessary, the ceramic clinking against wood. “I’m his eldest brother. That’s my job.” The words felt rehearsed, like lines he’d been repeating to himself for years.


“If our little prince wants to test his boss’s patience, let him. Not everyone can rock the ‘fashionably late’ look like Haru,” Reo pushed off from the counter, refilling his cup with their premium coffee—the one luxury he insisted on. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Though I have to say, Aiden, this whole mother-hen routine is getting a bit much. What’s next—heart-shaped notes in his lunch box? Maybe channel some of that nurturing energy into finding a date instead of memorizing our baby brother’s schedule?”


“Watch it,” Aiden warned, though there wasn’t much heat in it. Maybe because the image of Haru drowning in their hand-me-downs was still too fresh in his mind.


Noah chose that moment to stride in, still glistening from his run. He slid into his chair with his usual precise grace, arranging his napkin just so before serving himself with the kind of meticulous care that made breakfast look like a formal dinner. “Oh, are we finally addressing Aiden’s terminal case of mother-hen syndrome?”


“How about we address your terminal case of bad timing?” Aiden shot back. “Or better yet, your fascinating relationship with that running shirt. I think it’s becoming sentient.”


“Deflection through insults.” Reo clicked his tongue, watching Noah methodically section his French toast into perfect triangles. “And here I thought real estate agents were supposed to be smooth talkers. No wonder you’re single.”


“I didn’t realize my love life was today’s breakfast special,” Aiden retorted. “Though I suppose it’s more entertaining than watching Noah treat breakfast like it’s a formal state dinner.”


“Some of us,” Noah replied primly, dabbing his mouth with his napkin between perfectly measured bites, “actually appreciate proper dining etiquette. Even at seven in the morning.”


Reo’s smirk turned positively feline. “At least Noah’s relationship with breakfast protocol is more active than your relationship with dating. When was your last date? I think I was still speaking Japanese.”


“You still speak Japanese,” Aiden pointed out dryly.


“Exactly my point.” Reo raised his cup in mock salute, while Noah methodically aligned his utensils between bites. “At this rate, you’ll end up married to your ‘Open House’ signs. At least they won’t mind your obsession with our baby brother.”


“Your concern is touching,” Aiden said. “Did you workshop these zingers while practicing your coffee art, or do they come naturally with that premium roast of yours?”


“Please.” Reo’s eyes danced with unholy amusement. “I’m saving my best material for when you finally realize you’re—” He cut himself off, smile turning mysterious. “Well, that’s a show I want front row seats for.”


Aiden shook his head, fighting both irritation and fondness as he watched Reo take another self-satisfied sip of his precious coffee. Before he could formulate a suitably cutting response, Noah’s practical voice cut through the morning air.


“Speaking of shows, is Mason up yet?”


Aiden welcomed the change of subject, glancing at the hallway where silence reigned supreme. “Still in bed.”


“He didn’t come home until four this morning,” Reo chimed in. “From the sound of it, he was either reenacting Swan Lake in his bedroom or fighting ninjas. Hard to tell with these walls.”


“He really should stop working at that bar,” Noah said. “Sure, he’s raking in tips like a poker champ on a hot streak, but living like a vampire can’t be good for him.”


“And studying on top of it,” Reo added. “I don’t know how he manages without turning into a walking energy drink advertisement.”


Aiden shrugged, the image of Mason juggling textbooks and beer taps with equal finesse coming to mind. “It’s not so hard once you’re used to it.”


“So says the patriarch of our humble abode.” Noah’s voice dripped with dry humor as he precisely cut another triangle of French toast. “We know you’ve got your work ethic set to ‘superhuman,’ Aiden, but that doesn’t mean Mason’s signed up for the same program. Besides, we’re not exactly scrounging for pennies now that we’ve sent the mortgage off with a gold watch and a retirement party.”


“Perhaps a family conference is in order when Sleeping Beauty graces us with his presence?” Reo suggested, dark eyes twinkling. “A suggestion to trim his work hours seems timely, considering his academic ventures are ramping up to ‘crunch time.’”


“I’ll have a word with him,” Aiden agreed, already mentally preparing his ‘responsible older brother’ speech.


As if summoned by their conspiracy of concern, Mason materialized in the doorway.

His honey-blonde hair performed an impressive impersonation of a bird’s nest after a hurricane, while his sculpted physique somehow managed to make exhaustion look like a fashion statement. The old t-shirt he wore had clearly given up trying to contain his shoulders and was now just along for the ride.


“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough as gravel but still carrying that hint of charm that probably doubled his tips.


Reo’s eyebrow arched with practiced precision. “You’re up early for someone who moonlights as a professional night owl.”


Mason collapsed into his chair with the graceful desperation of a man who’d been vertical for far too long. “Hunger beat sleep in a cage match,” he yawned, reaching for the nearest edible item. “Planning a rematch after breakfast.”


“Solid life choices,” Noah approved, dabbing his mouth with his napkin like he was dining at the Ritz.


Aiden waited until Mason had inhaled half his breakfast before launching Operation Intervention. “Mason, we need to talk about your job at the bar.”


Mason paused mid-chew, looking remarkably alert for someone who’d probably seen more sunrises from the wrong end lately. “Let me guess—you want me to either quit or dial it back?”


“Reducing hours would be ideal,” Aiden said, adopting his real estate negotiation voice. “Especially if it means fewer dawn patrols. But if you wanted to explore other employment opportunities...”


Mason held up a hand, somehow managing to make the gesture both respectful and dismissive. “I’ll talk to my boss about cutting back the hours.” He paused, a flash of determination breaking through his sleepy demeanor. “But I’m keeping the job.

There’s something satisfying about earning money without having to sell my soul to corporate America. Yet.”


Reo snorted into his coffee. “Says the man who sells his sleep schedule to drunk college students instead.”


Noah’s fork paused mid-air, laden with a precisely balanced stack of scrambled eggs. “Didn’t you say yesterday you’ve got that meeting with a client this afternoon?”


Aiden nodded, nursing his coffee like it held the secrets to Manhattan real estate.

“The client’s itching to inspect a few apartments she’s taken a shine to.”


“What corner of concrete paradise are they eyeing?” Reo inquired.


“Upper East Side.”


Noah’s whistle could’ve summoned cabs from three blocks away. Mason, still waging war against his breakfast, paused long enough to grin. “That’s going to be quite the commission.”


“If the real estate gods smile upon us,” Aiden replied, trying not to count his commission before it hatched.


Reo’s gaze shifted to Noah’s athletic attire. “Why are you still dressed for the Olympics?”


“Haru’s claimed squatter’s rights to the bathroom,” Noah grumbled, returning to his methodical breakfast consumption.


“How chivalrous of you,” Reo drawled. “You could’ve staged a coup and sent him running to work in yesterday’s clothes.”


Aiden leaned back, thoughtful. “Maybe we should look into upgrading to a place with more than one bathroom.”


“And six bedrooms?” Noah arched an eyebrow with surgical precision. “That’s not exactly growing on trees in New York.”


Mason swallowed his mouthful of toast before speaking—a miracle in itself. “It’s going to cost more than my entire bartending career. Do we really need to move? We’re making this work, aren’t we?”


“Indeed,” Reo agreed, swirling his premium roast like a wine connoisseur. “And let’s be realistic about our finances. We’re not eating ramen anymore, but you’re still our primary breadwinner, Aiden. Plus, this place is practically a family heirloom. Mom and Stepdad poured their souls into making it livable for our situation.”


As if summoned by the scent of domesticity—or more likely, breakfast—Isaac breezed into the kitchen, his blonde hair performing an impressive impersonation of artistic bedhead, managing to look both completely disheveled and inexplicably stylish.


“Morning, all my favorite bros!” He dropped into an empty chair, eyeing the spread with undisguised hunger. “What’s for breakfast? French toast and eggs? Don’t mind if I do!” He began piling his plate with the enthusiasm of someone who’d just discovered food existed.


“No selling,” Aiden declared firmly. “Too many memories embedded in these walls... Though I do have enough saved for a deposit if we needed it.”


“That savings is yours,” Reo insisted. “We’ve been parasites long enough. Besides, some of us might spread our wings soon.”


Aiden’s frown could’ve curdled milk. “Nobody’s flying this coop anytime soon.”


“Well, I’m certainly not planning my great escape,” Noah interjected, dabbing his mouth. “Plus, newly employed here. Starting at one of New York’s gaming giants next week. So technically, that’s two stable incomes.”


Reo perked up like a cat spotting an unattended tuna sandwich. “Does this mean vacation plans might become more than fantasy?”


“Maybe?” Noah’s shrug was noncommittal at best.


Isaac perked up mid-bite, cheeks still stuffed with French toast. “Vacation? Where to? When? Can my entourage join?”


Mason gave him a look that suggested he’d seen this movie before. “Pump those vacation brakes.”


Isaac deflated visibly, shoulders slumping as he pushed his eggs around his plate.

“Well, can’t blame a guy for dreaming.” He brightened almost immediately, shoveling another forkful of French toast into his mouth. “At least breakfast is good.”


The mundane morning rhythm of clinking plates and casual banter screeched to a halt when Haru appeared in the doorway. Aiden’s world tilted on its axis. Still damp from his shower, Haru’s jet-black hair fell in soft waves around his face, giving him an ethereal quality that made him look more like a porcelain doll than someone’s little brother. His skin, slightly flushed from the hot water, seemed to glow in the morning light, making the contrast with Aiden’s old shirt even more striking. The white cotton hung off his slight frame like an invitation to sin, one pale shoulder exposed in a way that sent Aiden’s thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.


He wasn’t the only one affected. Noah’s methodical eating stuttered to a halt, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth as his eyes tracked the water droplet making its way down Haru’s neck. Across the table, Mason’s grip on his coffee mug tightened imperceptibly, his honey-colored eyes darkening as they followed the line of that exposed shoulder.


“I’m heading out.” Haru’s voice, soft yet determined, cut through the suddenly charged atmosphere like a bucket of ice water. He seemed oblivious to the effect he had on his stepbrothers, adjusting his messenger bag with innocent efficiency.


“Breakfast,” Noah commanded, his voice rougher than usual as he forced his attention back to his plate.


Aiden stood abruptly, wrestling his thoughts back into their proper brotherly box even as he found himself caught between the primal urge to fix that wayward collar and the even more dangerous desire to let it fall further, to trace that exposed skin with fingertips or maybe...


“I’ll drive you,” he managed, voice steadier than his resolve. “But first, eat something.”


Isaac, mouth full of French toast, glanced between his brothers with raised eyebrows, clearly missing the undercurrents of tension. “Yeah, Haru! Reo’s French toast is worth being late for!”



Chapter 3

 

Haru

 

Aiden’s warm hand around my arm sent electricity shooting through my body, making parts of me spring to attention that had no business doing so at the breakfast table. Seriously? Even after my extended “self-love” session in the shower, where I’d definitely not been thinking about those same fingers sliding elsewhere...

God, being eighteen was like living with a hormone factory programmed to malfunction specifically around tall, gorgeous stepbrothers. Especially ones who insisted on touching you with hands that felt like they were made of pure sin.


I jerked my arm away, my face burning hotter than the coffee Reo was perpetually brewing. “Fine, fine. I’ll have breakfast,” I muttered, trying to sound annoyed rather than flustered. The only way to handle Aiden was to give him what he wanted—in this case, watching me eat like I was some rare bird that might forget how to peck at seeds.


Taking a deliberate step back—because space was definitely what I needed right now—I lifted my gaze to meet his. Big mistake. Those hazel-green eyes could probably get state secrets out of trained spies. “But you don’t have to drive me,” I insisted, proud that my voice didn’t shake. “It’s not far, and biking doesn’t take long.”


Before he could deploy another one of those looks that made my knees forget their job description, I turned and dropped into the seat beside Isaac. I could feel Aiden’s gaze following me like a physical touch as he took his place across the table.


“My, my,” Reo’s amused voice cut through the tension. “Isn’t it interesting how that old shirt of Aiden’s seems to command everyone’s attention this morning?” He took another sip of his coffee, dark eyes dancing with mischief over the rim of his mug.


I glanced down at the shirt—one of Aiden’s ancient hand-me-downs that practically swallowed me whole—and tugged self-consciously at the collar. Which, naturally, only made it slip further off my shoulder. Perfect. Just perfect.


I lifted my gaze, only to catch Noah staring at me with an unusually dark expression, his eyes fixed on my exposed shoulder before trailing up to my face. His jaw was clenched tight, perfect posture even more rigid than usual. Great. My sloppy appearance must be offending his perfectionist sensibilities again. “Your shirt is...” He trailed off, jaw tightening.


“Falling off?” I supplied helpfully, trying to adjust it. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you inherit clothes from giants.”


Mason leaned over, fingers brushing my shoulder as he adjusted the collar, his touch lingering just a second too long, warm against my skin. “Looks good on you,” he murmured, closer than necessary.


“Aww, look at our little Haru swimming in big brother’s clothes,” Isaac sang out, grinning wickedly. “If you’re trying to start a new fashion trend, I’d call it ‘Drowning in Denim.’ Or maybe ‘Help, My Shirt Ate Me’?”


“I’m not that small,” I protested, shrugging away from Mason’s helping hands. My cheeks burned as Isaac pretended to wipe away a tear.


“Could’ve fooled me,” Noah muttered darkly from across the table, his eyes still fixed on me with that intense look that made me want to check if I had breakfast on my face.


“And at least I don’t look like a walking thrift store reject,” I shot back at Isaac, trying to ignore Noah’s unsettling stare.


“Ouch! He bites!” Isaac clutched his chest dramatically. “But seriously, bro, we need to feed you more. I can practically hear those clothes plotting their escape.”


“Now, now,” Reo interrupted, his knowing smirk growing wider as his gaze flicked between Aiden’s white-knuckled grip on his mug and Mason’s hovering hands. “I think our little Shrine Maiden looks perfectly fine in oversized clothes. Wouldn’t you agree, Aiden?”


The temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees as Aiden’s eyes narrowed at Mason’s hand, still suspiciously close to my shoulder.


Seriously, what was with everyone this morning? Was there some full moon effect I didn’t know about that made all my brothers act weird? Must be a caffeine thing.


“Eat more,” Aiden finally said, pushing his own plate toward me. That familiar worry line appeared between his brows—the one that always made guilt twist in my stomach. “You’re too thin.”


And there it was. The mother hen routine that had become Aiden’s default setting whenever food was involved. I picked at the extra French toast he’d given me, trying not to sigh. I knew where this came from, of course.


I blamed his overprotective streak on that incident from four years ago. The one where I’d collapsed at school and scared everyone half to death. The doctors had thrown around words like ‘malnourished’ and ‘depression’ like confetti at a particularly grim party. I mean, what did they expect? Our parents had just died, and I was fourteen—an age where everything felt like the end of the world even without actual tragedy involved.


The incident had sent Aiden into full-blown protective overdrive. Social Services had descended like vultures in sensible shoes, poking their noses into every corner of our lives. Poor Aiden had been stretched thinner than our grocery budget back then, trying to convince them he could handle being guardian to two minors while building his real estate career and juggling more part-time jobs than a circus performer.


Then came That Day—the one that still featured in my nightmares. The social worker had arrived with her clipboard of doom, ready to drag me away. I’d gone full octopus, clinging to Aiden like my life depended on it. Which, in my teenage mind, it absolutely did. The stress had been too much, and I’d pulled my signature move—passing out right there on the doorstep. Nothing says ‘I’m totally fine’ like face-planting into unconsciousness.


“You’re doing that thing again,” Reo’s voice cut through my brooding. “The one where you space out and look like a sad anime character.”


I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at my toast like it had personally offended me. “I do not look like an anime character.”


“You kind of do,” Isaac chimed in helpfully, mouth full of eggs. “Especially with that whole ‘delicate flower’ thing you’ve got going on.”


“The word you’re looking for is ‘Shrine Maiden,’” Reo corrected with a smirk. “It’s in his genes, apparently. Mom said our great-grandmother had the same look—petite, pretty, and prone to attracting stalkers.”


Noah actually paused his methodical breakfast consumption at that. “Stalkers?”

“Oh yeah,” Reo was clearly enjoying himself now. “Some guy tried to kidnap her, claimed she’d put a spell on him with her Shrine Maiden powers.”


Isaac burst out laughing, nearly choking on his breakfast. “So that’s why half the city’s male population keeps stalking Haru! They probably think he’s got magical powers or something,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Though I doubt it’s his spiritual energy they’re after.”


“It’s not funny,” I muttered, stabbing my eggs with more force than necessary. It wasn’t my fault I’d inherited Mom’s delicate features and ended up looking like some kind of accidental honey trap. The number of ‘accidental’ bumps and dropped items around me at work was getting ridiculous.


Mason, who’d been doing his best impression of a zombie until now, cracked open an eye. “You need to start dating,” he announced, like he was delivering profound wisdom, though his gaze lingered on me a beat longer than necessary. “Or at least get laid. That’ll keep the stalkers away.”


I nearly inhaled my toast, trying desperately not to think about exactly who I’d like to get laid with. Especially not when said person was sitting right across from me, looking unfairly gorgeous even while frowning. “Excuse me?”


“He’s right,” Isaac nodded sagely. “Most of us were dating and losing our V-card by sixteen or seventeen. You’re falling behind, little bro. Time to find yourself a nice girl... or whatever.”


Oh god, were we really having this conversation? At breakfast? I desperately looked for an escape route, but unless I wanted to crawl under the table—tempting—I was trapped. Across from me, I caught Reo hiding a knowing smirk behind his coffee mug. Bastard.


“Aiden was already dating and sleeping with that hot cheerleader at sixteen,” Noah added, his usually precise movements faltering slightly as he glanced my way. “Jane, wasn’t it?”


My head snapped up at that. Sixteen? That meant... that meant Aiden had already been experienced when I first met him. Something hot and uncomfortable twisted in my stomach at the thought.


“Can we not discuss my ancient history?” Aiden’s voice cut through the chaos, tight with something I couldn’t identify. His eyes locked onto mine across the table, dark and intense enough to make my throat go dry.


“Just trying to help Haru understand it’s normal,” Mason said, his tone casual though his eyes were intense as they flickered over me. “Maybe he just needs the right... motivation.”


Reo snorted into his coffee. “Oh, I’m sure motivation isn’t the problem.” His knowing smirk made me want to dump his coffee over his head. “Our little Shrine Maiden probably has plenty of interested parties.”


“He’s fine exactly as he is,” Aiden stated flatly, his grip on his mug turning his knuckles white.


The way he said it—like he was stating an absolute truth—made my face heat up again. Damn it. What was it about his voice that turned me into a human tomato?

I was going to murder Reo. Slowly. With his own fancy coffee beans. Right after I figured out why everyone was acting so weird this morning.


An awkward silence fell over the table, broken only by the sound of Noah’s methodical chewing and Isaac attempting to build a fortress out of his remaining toast. I focused on my plate, willing my face to return to a normal human color instead of emergency stop sign red.


“Speaking of work,” Mason said, looking more alert now, “my boss asked about you again, Haru. Still interested in picking up shifts at the bar?”


My heart leaped. Working at Mason’s bar would mean serious tips—the kind that could fatten up my savings account faster than my current jobs combined. I opened my mouth to say yes, but Aiden’s temperature drop was practically arctic.


“I wasn’t aware you were interested in working at that bar.” Aiden’s voice could have frozen Hell over. Twice.


I could feel the weight of his disapproval from across the table, but for once, I held my ground. “The pay is really good,” I mumbled, suddenly finding my toast fascinating.


Mason, bless him, jumped to my defense. “He’d only work with me, Aiden. Bob already promised to keep our shifts matched. Plus, it’s just until midnight, and you know I’d watch out for him.”


“Like a hawk,” Noah added dryly, “Along with every other person in that bar, I’m sure.”


Reo snorted into his coffee. “Well, he does have that Shrine Maiden appeal. Might boost business.”


“That’s not helping,” I hissed at him.


“Just stating facts,” Reo shrugged, clearly enjoying the show. “Though I seem to recall a certain someone else working bars during college...” His meaningful look at Aiden made me curious.


“That was different,” Aiden’s jaw clenched.


“How?” I challenged, feeling braver than usual. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe I was just tired of being treated like spun glass. “You did it. Mason does it. Why can’t I?”


The look Aiden gave me could have melted steel. “We’ll discuss this later.”


Which was how I found myself practically bolting from the table fifteen minutes later, muttering a hasty “Itte kimasu.”


Itte rashai,” came the chorus of replies, followed by Reo’s too-amused, “Don’t forget your prince charming is driving you!”


The morning air hit my face like a blessing, cooling my heated cheeks as I made my escape. Of course, said escape involved being trapped in a car with Aiden, which was like jumping from the frying pan into a very attractive fire. Still, anything was better than enduring more of Reo’s knowing looks.


I slid into the passenger seat, immediately fascinated by the dashboard like it was displaying secret government codes instead of just the time. The car dipped slightly as Aiden got in, his presence filling the small space like a physical thing. Why did he have to smell so good? It should be illegal to smell that good before nine in the morning.


The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the apartment. The drive was quiet, the usual morning traffic giving me an excuse not to make conversation. Ten minutes later, Aiden pulled into the convenience store parking lot, choosing a spot away from the other cars.


He switched off the engine but I didn’t move to get out. I could feel his eyes on me, that intense gaze that made my skin prickle with awareness. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t—


I looked.


“What?” I meant it to sound annoyed, defensive. Instead, it came out breathless. Fantastic.


His hand came up, and suddenly those fingers I’d definitely not been thinking about in the shower were threading through my hair, his thumb brushing my cheek. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and completely destroying what was left of my sanity.


My heart wasn’t just racing; it was running a marathon. I wanted to lean into his touch, to close my eyes and pretend this meant what I wanted it to mean. Instead, I forced myself to stay still, caught between fight or flight or... something else entirely.


“Aiden...” His name escaped like a prayer or a plea. I wasn’t sure which.


“Do you need money that badly?” The question was soft, concerned, but there was something else in his voice. Something that made my stomach flip.


I licked my lips—a nervous habit that I really needed to break, especially when his eyes tracked the movement like that. “That’s not… I mean…” I took a breath, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “I just want to be independent. I can’t keep relying on you forever.”


“Why not?”


The simple question knocked the air from my lungs. Because if I keep depending on you, I’ll never be able to move on. Because every time you touch me like this, I forget you’re my stepbrother. Because—


“I’m eighteen now,” I managed instead, pulling away from his touch before I did something stupid like lean into it. “I need to stand on my own.”


“By working at a bar?” There was an edge to his voice now.


“By earning my own money,” I corrected, then added without thinking, “So I can move—”


“Move?” The word came out sharp, almost angry. His hand shot out, gripping my arm with unexpected intensity. “You’re planning to move out?”


Shit. Shit. “I didn’t— That’s not—” I winced. “Aiden, you’re hurting me.”


He released me instantly, like my skin had burned him. “Sorry,” he breathed, looking horrified. “I didn’t mean to— Are you really thinking of leaving?”


The raw emotion in his voice made my chest ache. “It’s nothing,” I lied, staring determinedly at the dashboard again. “I have to go. I’ll be late.”


I scrambled out of the car before he could stop me, before I could say something else I’d regret. Before I could give in to the urge to tell him exactly why I needed to put some distance between us.


My heart was still doing its best drum solo impression as I rushed into the convenience store, nearly colliding with my boss.


“Morning, Haru,” Dan greeted, eyebrows raised. “Did you run here? Your face is completely red.”


Yeah, no kidding. Try sitting in a confined space with the guy you’re in love with while he touches your face and looks at you like... like...


“Morning, Dan,” I managed, heading for the staff room before he could ask any more questions. “Just... excited about work.”


Right. Because that was totally believable. At least the morning couldn’t get any more complicated.


I really needed to stop tempting fate like that.




 

Can't wait to hear what you think of the new and improved series! Remember to keep an eye on your inbox for those download links—you won't want to miss this!


If you haven't already, sign up to my mailing list HERE to get notifications.



Social Media


I'm now on Facebook and Instagram, so be sure to join/follow me there as I'll be posting updates and video trailers/teasers soon.



XOXO, Zara Lee / Bella Chan / Alexia Praks💕

copyright zara lee/alexia praks

bottom of page