Beneath the Same Roof

LILA

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the car window as the gates swung open. Black iron, tall enough to keep the entire world out, creaked slowly to reveal the driveway beyond. It wasn’t a driveway, not really. It was more like a private road lined with hedges clipped so precisely they looked artificial. The car glided forward, crunching over the gravel, and with every passing second the house grew larger until it didn’t even look like a house anymore.

It was a mansion.

My throat tightened. The kind of mansion I had only ever seen on magazine covers in the dentist’s office. The kind with columns and fountains and windows so tall they made you feel small just looking at them. The sunlight bounced off spotless glass panes, almost blinding, and the front doors were carved dark wood that belonged in a museum, not in someone’s home.

Correction. My new home.

I clutched my duffel bag tighter, nails digging into the strap. This wasn’t me. I was a girl from a cramped two-bedroom apartment who ate cold pizza in her pajamas on Saturday mornings. I wasn’t the girl who belonged in billion-dollar mansions with marble staircases and family crests carved into the walls. But apparently, my mom thought differently.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Mom murmured beside me, her hand brushing mine. “This is a good thing. A fresh start.”

A fresh start. That’s what she kept calling it. Like marrying Richard Hayes, billionaire tech genius, was some kind of life reset. For her, maybe it was. For me, it felt more like being dropped into someone else’s life with no warning.

The car slowed to a stop, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Two men in suits stood at the double doors like bodyguards, but they weren’t who I noticed.

I noticed him.

He leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place, even though technically his father did. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark messy hair that looked like he’d just rolled out of bed but in the kind of way that made it obvious he didn’t care because it somehow worked for him. Tattoos spilled down his arm, visible even beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt. His eyes, steel-gray and sharp, locked on me through the car window.

My breath caught.

That had to be Ryder.

The infamous Ryder Hayes. My brand-new stepbrother.

Mom had said his name like a warning. “He’s… a little rough around the edges, Lila. Give him time.” Rough around the edges didn’t begin to cover the way he looked at me now—like I was an intruder in his world. Or worse. Like he was already imagining how quickly he could get under my skin.

The driver opened my door, and the heat of summer air rushed in. I stepped out, gripping my bag like a shield.

“Lila,” Mom said brightly, sliding out behind me. “This is your new home. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Beautiful wasn’t the word. Intimidating. Overwhelming. Unreal. I nodded anyway because she was glowing, her smile wide as Richard Hayes came striding down the steps to greet her. He was exactly what I expected: expensive suit, watch that could probably pay off our old rent for a year, hair slicked back perfectly. He wrapped his arm around Mom like she was a prize he had just claimed, and she melted into him.

I looked away, because staring felt intrusive. Which was when I realized Ryder was still watching me.

Not just watching. Studying.

His eyes swept over me, head to toe, slow enough that my cheeks burned. My oversized sweater suddenly felt too warm, my denim shorts too revealing, my scuffed sneakers too out of place on the spotless white steps. I hated that I wanted to pull at the hem of my sweater, cover myself, but I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I raised my chin, meeting his stare head-on.

He smirked. Just a twitch of his lips, barely there, but it was enough to send a shiver through me. He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered down the steps with a lazy confidence that screamed trouble.

“Lila,” Richard said warmly. “Welcome. We’re so glad you’re here. Ryder, why don’t you help her with her bag?”

Ryder’s gaze flicked to my duffel, then back to my face. “She looks like she’s got it,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, and threaded with something that made my stomach clench.

Mom gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t be rude.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he drawled, though the smirk tugging at his mouth told a different story. “But if the princess wants help, she’ll ask for it.”

Princess. The word dripped from his tongue like a taunt.

I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag. “I can carry my own stuff,” I said, forcing my voice steady.

“Good to know.” His eyes lingered on me one second too long before he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked back up the steps like he hadn’t just set my nerves on fire.

My mom and Richard were too wrapped up in each other to notice the tension sparking like static electricity between us. But I noticed. I felt it in the flush crawling up my neck, in the way my knees threatened to buckle just from standing near him.

Inside, the mansion was worse—worse because it was even more beautiful than I imagined. Gleaming marble floors, chandeliers the size of cars, staircases that curled like they belonged in fairy tales. A maid appeared to take our coats even though it was too hot for coats.

Mom looked at me like she expected me to squeal or clap my hands, but all I could do was glance up at Ryder, who leaned against the banister, arms crossed, watching.

Always watching.

His eyes slid over me again, slow and unhurried, like he knew it made me squirm. Then he leaned down, close enough that only I could hear him. His breath brushed my ear, warm and wicked.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured. “Keep looking at me like that, and someone might think you want me to ruin you.”

My breath caught, sharp and traitorous.

And in that moment, standing beneath glittering chandeliers in a house too big to ever feel like home, I realized two things.

One: Ryder Hayes was dangerous.

Two: I was already in trouble.