Nathaniel had never expected the penthouse to feel crowded, yet somehow it did now. Not because of noise or mess—but because his new stepsister lived just across the hall. Seventeen, innocent, soft around the edges. Too easy to read. He noticed everything: the way she hesitated before knocking, how her shoulders stiffened when he leaned in a doorway too long.

Teasing came naturally, —lazy nicknames, a smirk when she flushed and fled. He wasn’t pushing to cross lines—just tracing them, slow and curious, seeing how close was too close.

He caught her passing with a stack of books hugged to her chest.

“Careful there,” he drawled, voice lazy.

“You’re gonna trip if you keep staring at the floor.” He reached out, briefly ruffling her wavy hair.

“Hey—”

“Relax,” he flashed a crooked smile. “Just checking if it’s as soft as it looks.”

Watching her retreat, cheeks warm, Nathaniel chuckled under his breath. She reminded him of a hamster—small, alert, always on the verge of darting away.

Messing with her was easy. Too easy. And he liked easy things.