My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 223: Feeling Like A Ken Doll

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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.

He glanced around, taking in the scene—the suit, the pins, the trays of accessories, then focused on the lead stylist.

"You can go," he said, his voice calm yet carrying that unmistakable authority. "We’ve got this from here."

The stylist blinked. "But sir, the final adjustments—"

"I said we’ve got it." His tone was polite, but definitely firm. "He’ll call if he needs anything else."

They shared quick looks before nodding, gathering their things with murmurs of apology. Within thirty seconds, the room was empty except for us and the emerald suit still clinging to my body like a second skin.

I raised an eyebrow as the door clicked shut behind them. "Feeling a bit bossy, aren’t we?"

He shrugged, walking closer to me with that casual, predatory grace of his. "They were taking forever. Plus, I wanted to see it without an audience."

The suit hung from the padded hanger like something out of a fairy tale, catching the golden light from the chandelier and casting tiny rainbows across the cream walls. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom, the marble cool beneath my bare feet, staring at the stranger looking back at me.

The suit was impeccably tailored, deep emerald wool with subtle sheen, single-breasted jacket with peaked lapels, fitted through the waist before falling cleanly to the hips. Thousands of tiny silver threads were woven into the fabric in delicate patterns that shimmered with every breath I took, making the suit feel alive, as if woven from forest shadows and starlight.

For a moment, his expression was completely open, his eyes widening, mouth slightly parting as he took in the sight of me in the suit, how it moved like liquid emeralds. He quickly regained his composure, leaning against the wall with that casual nonchalance, but I caught that flicker of fascination in his gaze, the slight bob of his throat as he swallowed.

"Well?" I asked, spinning once more because I couldn’t help it. "What do you think? Approve or veto?"

He pushed off the wall, crossing the room in two strides. "Approve. Definitely approve." His voice was deeper than usual, rough around the edges. "You look... fucking amazing. Like you walked out of one of those old movies where the guy shows up and everyone forgets how to breathe."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I tried to play it cool. "Flatterer. You’re just saying that because you have to."

He moved closer, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from him, his fingers brushing my arm as he traced the silver threading on the lapel with one finger.

"Nope. Just being honest. You’ll have every guy at that gala tripping over their tuxes."

I laughed softly, but my breath caught when his hand settled at my waist, drawing me gently against him. "Jealous already?"

"Maybe just a little," he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. Then he leaned down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that started sweet and slow, his other hand cupping my jaw as if I was something precious.

It deepened quickly, his tongue brushing mine in a way that made my knees weak, heat blooming everywhere he touched. I kissed him back, fingers bunching in his shirt, forgetting for a moment that we needed to get ready for dinner with investors.

We pulled apart, breathless, foreheads touching. "Okay," he said in a husky voice, "maybe more than just a little jealous."

I grinned, stepping back before we got too lost in the moment. "Help me get out of this before I wrinkle it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Tempting offer, but we’ve got work to do first."

We settled onto the couch, where Adrien pulled out his laptop and reopened the gala guest list. I sat beside him, still in the suit since changing seemed like too much effort, leaning over his shoulder as he scrolled.

"There," he said suddenly, pointing. "Logan Seymour. He’s coming as Keith’s guest. But what does Keith have to do with my mom’s former lawyer? I’d always assumed Keith wouldn’t know about Logan because of how secretive my mom seemed."

My stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Maybe your dad still doesn’t know about Logan being your mom’s lawyer. When we confront him, we’ll try to look at his body language to see if he’s hiding anything."

Adrien nodded, his eyes darkening. "Right. But we need to be smart. No rushing in, we’ll watch, we wait, and we approach him when he’s alone."

By the time dinner rolled around, I was wiped out from the travel and the emotional whirlwind. I changed into something simpler, said goodnight to Adrien.

The bed felt like a cloud of silk and down, just the kind of luxury people dream about, but as I lay there staring at the ceiling, it felt empty. The suite was too big, too quiet, with city lights flickering through the sheer curtains like restless ghosts.

I tossed and turned, sheets twisting around my legs, my mind refusing to quiet. What if we confronted Logan and he denied everything? What if Keith caught us and forced us to give up? What if it all blew up in our faces?

Sleep finally pulled me under, but it wasn’t exactly restful.