Trapped By My Possessive Adoptive Brother

ght directly across Finley's face. She squeezed her eyes shut, let out a loud groan, and kicked the heavy d

elled for the nanny, bouncing on her heels impatiently as the woman helped her into

e down the grand sweeping staircase, her hand sliding down the

Preston, dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, reading the Wall Street Journal. Halfway down the table,

tirely. She sprinted straight to Hartley's chair, grabbed his shoulder

er!" Finley shouted, her voic

d, coughing violently into his linen napkin. His face turned a dark, mottled red

d daughter, his chest heaving

other on the edge of his plate. He picked up his napkin, dabbed the moisture off his cheek, and lo

Brother taught me about the rules last nigh

on the back of his neck. His authority, his role as the ultimate provider and t

knot of his silk tie. He forced a wide, tight smile onto his face.

rving cart. On top of the cart sat a heavy wooden box, lined with velvet. Inside were r

approval. "You can take these to school. Give them

rt and throwing her arms around the wooden box. Preston's

y. "This is perfect! Now I have so many things to share! I

y a sickening drop in his stomach. He shot a frustr

oulders in a smooth, elegant shrug. His face was compl

walked out the front door

n, and practically shoved Finley into the seat. He immediately moved to block

rprising agility, sliding across the leather bench and planti

his face dark with fury. He got

round, trying to reclaim the narrative. "So, Finle

with the Swiss chocolates, her knees pulled up to her chest. She

the same time?" she asked, her b

, his voice a low, calm hum. "If you give them all away at once, you won't have any left for

ipped the leather armrest until his knuckles turned white. He wasn't listening to a child

slightly. "Stop filling your sister's head with that g

seat, her bottom lip jutting out aggressively. "You don't underst

rview mirror, looking at the fierce, defensive anger in his daughter's eyes. He had lost.

o the academy gates. Th

hed the velvet bag of candy in her fist. She didn't look like a fo

n window at Preston's defeated posture. Hartley's lips curled into a slow, faint smile. He