The Consortium Heir: My Stepsisters are obsessed with me

Chapter 7: Deep Water

She pulled back before Anthony could react, leaving him standing there with his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape.

"Sonia—"

"Oh, look at the time." She was already turning away, suddenly very interested in a display of silk shirts. "We need to get going. Father doesn't like it when we're late."

Anthony opened his mouth. Closed it. "Right. Right."

Whatever he'd heard, or thought he'd heard, was apparently never going to be mentioned again.

Twenty minutes later, he understood why people said money was a language, because Sonia spoke it fluently.

She piled a mountain of clothes onto a rolling rack, shirts, jackets, shoes, more shirts, until the thing looked like it was applying for its own zip code.

At checkout, she paid for all of it with one lazy swipe of the card.

One swipe. No bounce. No loading screen. The terminal just beeped and cleared, like the machine itself was afraid to keep a billionaire's daughter waiting.

The ride back to the Stark residence was quiet, Anthony spending most of it staring out the window while the city slid past and his mind stayed somewhere else entirely.

Yesterday his biggest dream had been earning enough to keep his mother healthy. Now he was riding in a luxury car that belonged to a family he'd only learned existed a few hours earlier. None of it made sense.

By the time they rolled back through the mansion gates, an army of staff had appeared out of nowhere.

Chauffeurs, butlers, maybe chauffeur-butlers, Anthony honestly couldn't tell the difference, each one sweeping away bags like well-dressed ants.

Sonia gave him a soft smile as she peeled off toward the east wing.

"Go take a shower and change into something comfortable." She said it while signaling to one of the chauffeurs to take him.

"Sure. Thanks." He followed the chauffeur.

…

The bathroom was another reminder of exactly how far he'd fallen out of his old life — bigger than any bathroom he'd ever used, spotless, perfect.

The shower was the kind of experience that made Anthony question every shower of his past life. Hot water, pressure like a waterfall, soap that smelled expensive enough to have its own stock portfolio.

He stood under the warm water and finally let himself breathe. For the first time all day, he wasn't running. But his thoughts wouldn't slow down — his mother, the DNA test, Robert Stark, the Consortium, the daughters, all of it stacking up until it felt impossible.

"What kind of life is this," he murmured.

A few hours ago, he'd been a pizza delivery worker just trying to get by. Now he might inherit one of the largest companies in the world, and apparently a house full of stepsisters, one of whom was definitely flirting with him.

My life has officially gone insane.

He shut off the water feeling cleaner and more confused than ever.

That's when the problem hit him.

He had no clothes.

Nobody had shown him where anything was. He stood dripping on the plush carpet, towel knotted low at his waist, water still sliding down his stomach, and made the executive decision to go find a human being.

"Um. Hello? Is anybody here?"

His voice echoed down the hallway. He walked forward, one cautious step at a time, past a long corridor—

"Over here." Sonia's warm voice drifted in from beyond a set of glass doors.

Anthony followed it, and stopped dead.

The room opened up into something he'd only seen in movies.

An indoor pool stretched across the room, the water warm enough to breathe a thin haze into the air, soft light rippling over the surface. The whole space looking like a luxury hotel tucked inside the mansion.

And sitting on the shallow steps in the middle of it, like she'd been waiting for him all along was Sonia.

She wore a black one-piece that had clearly been designed by someone with bad intentions.

The fabric clung to her like a second skin, soaked through, hugging every curve the water could reach.

It cut high over her hips, leaving the full length of her thighs bare and gleaming where they slipped beneath the surface, and it plunged low at the front, cradling a chest that rose and fell with every slow breath.

Her pink hair was pinned up, a few damp strands sticking to the pale line of her neck. She was a sin floating in the haze, and she was smiling at him like she knew it.

Anthony looked away instantly, one hand tightening on the knot of his towel. "Sonia."

"Come on." She tilted her head, eyes glinting through wet lashes. "Don't be shy. Come and have a swim with me."

"I—" He struggled for words. "This day has been extremely confusing."

"Come on." She kicked her legs lazily under the water, sending ripples toward him like the pool itself was on her side.

Anthony took a step closer, then caught himself. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Don't be like that." She pouted, and it should have been illegal. "Trust me, there's no harm in it."

"I seriously don't think I should." The words came out before his pride could stop them.

"You know what?" She sighed, over the top and dramatic, then lifted both hands out of the water toward him. The motion pushed her breast together, fabric straining.

"Pull me up, then. If you won't come in, at least be a gentleman."

Anthony hesitated, because he knew that if he pulled her up out of the pool, he'd see every last curve of her, dripping and pressed against that black fabric, which could cause him a nosebleed on the spot.

And yet his traitor hand was already stretching out.

"Fine," he muttered, and gripped her hands.

Sonia's grip tightened. Her smile sharpened. And she pulled him down.

The world flipped. Anthony hit the water with a splash no billionaire's son should ever make, one hand grabbing for his towel as it slipped loose and floated off toward the edge of the pool, swallowed half the water, and came up coughing with his vision somewhere at the bottom of it.

He wiped the water from his eyes, ready to argue but right in front of him, a few inches away, the water lifted the top of that soaked black swimsuit, which was her breast exactly at his eye level.

Her chest rose with an easy breath, close enough that he could see drops of water rolling down her cleavage, and Anthony's heart hammered so hard he was sure she could hear it.

He scrambled backwards, hitting the wall of the pool. Sonia moved closer to him, trapping him in with no way out.

"Whoa, whoa, okay." He put both hands up like he was dealing with a wild animal, which, in a way, he was.

"I don't know what's going on, but I seriously think we shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not?" Sonia drifted a little closer, the haze wrapping around her like it worked for her.

"For one," Anthony said, his voice cracking at the worst moment, "we might be related."

She laughed, a low, warm sound the water carried straight through his chest.

"Don't worry. Even if you happen to be his son, I can assure you we still wouldn't be related."

Anthony blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Her fingers found his chest under the water, tracing a lazy line up toward his shoulder, nails grazing just enough to raise goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature.

"Do you really want me to bore you with the details while I'm sitting right here in front of you?"

She was close, he could feel the heat coming off her skin through the water. So close, he could see the way her eyes half closed as she looked at him like he was something she had ordered and fully planned to enjoy.

Anthony forgot every word he had ever learned.

She's your stepsister, he told himself. The word was losing its power fast.

His heart was beating so hard he was half sure she could feel it through his ribs, and the smirk on her face said she could.

God, anybody, anything, help me, because I'm not sure I can help myself.

The soft press of her body drifted closer through the water, warmth against warmth, until there was almost nothing left between them as she leaned toward his lips.

And as if the heavens actually listened his prayers — the glass doors slammed open.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Sonia?"