My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}

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I was just about finally settling into my room and pretending the outside world didn’t even exist when all of a sudden they barged in.

"Mr. Noah, good evening," the lead stylist chimed in, already unzipping the protective cover of the emerald suit. "We’re here for the final fitting. Mr. Fell wants everything to be perfect for tonight’s gala."

I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, still wrapped in the plush robe from the night before. "Already? It’s barely... what time is it?"

"Eight-thirty," she said cheerfully, as if that explained everything. "We’ve got a tight schedule. Hair styling at eleven in the morning, photos at two, and leave by six."

Two assistants flanked her, one already holding the suit jacket aloft while the other spread out accessories on the vanity: polished black dress shoes, a silver cufflink set that looked like it belonged in a museum, matching tie pin and pocket square that sparkled like captured stars. I felt like a mannequin being dressed for display.

They helped me out of the robe and into the suit with practiced efficiency, tugging and pinning, smoothing the fabric over my shoulders. The tailoring caught the light with every move, the silk lapels whispering against my skin. I stood on a small platform they’d set up in front of the mirror, turning slowly while they adjusted the cuffs and checked the fit at the shoulders.

"Perfect," the stylist murmured. "The color looks exquisite on you. Mr. Fell will be very pleased."

Before I could say anything, the connecting door swung open again—this time with no knock.

Adrien stepped in, still in sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt, hair damp from a shower, looking like he had just rolled out of bed and thought the world could wait. The staff froze mid-motion.