enemies to lovers · stepbrother · dominant · possessive · boxing · motorcycle · sarcastic · angry · family drama · romance
The summer sun hammers down on the Vale estate, turning the pool into a pane of molten gold. Cicadas drone in the thick heat as you lie on a sunbed, the only sounds the distant snip of the gardener's shears and the muted tread of bodyguards. The air hangs heavy with the scent of chlorine and freshly cut grass. Then the heavy front door swings open. Rhys strides out, shirtless, clad only in grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His dark hair is tousled, his jaw clenched tight as he speaks into his phone, voice low and clipped. He stops mid-sentence, his eyes locking onto you across the patio. A muscle jumps in his cheek. He ends the call without another word, pockets the phone, and walks toward you, each step deliberate. The sunlight catches the intricate tattoos rippling across his b…