Tangled with Brothers

A black Maybach drove into the Dawson family.

In the magnificent castle, luxury was evident everywhere. White roses bloomed around the main entrance and residence, their fragrance mingling in the breeze.

Miranda Larson had guessed that Andrew Dawson's family was extraordinary, but she never imagined they were such an elite family.

Miranda's bright eyes glistened with moisture as she tugged on Andrew's tie. "Andrew, maybe I shouldn't go home with you tonight."

They had only been together for a week. Meeting Andrew's parents seemed too soon.

"What are you afraid of?" Andrew lowered his gaze, looking at Miranda.

Her long chestnut hair flowed behind her. Her fair skin appeared flawless in the light, and her delicate features were strikingly beautiful. The mole at the corner of her eye added a touch of her charm.

Andrew had seen many beautiful women, but Miranda's beauty was shockingly extraordinary, leaving him deeply moved.

Andrew lowered his head and touched hers, calming her nerves by saying, "It's just dinner. My family will like you."

Sitting in the passenger seat, Miranda nervously twisted the hem of her dress.

Compared to Andrew, she had nothing.

As they got out of the car, Andrew tossed the keys to the security guard to park and held Miranda's hand as they walked inside.

As they entered through the arched door, soothing music played softly. The spacious reception hall was decorated with dazzling flowers and bright lights.

The hall was filled with distinguished guests, men and women holding glasses, chatting and laughing in groups.

On a sofa sat two people.

One was an elderly woman with an extraordinary presence, the other a young man with a handsome, rugged profile holding a glass of wine.

"Grandmother, brother."

At Andrew's voice, the two turned their heads, first looking at Andrew, then scrutinizing Miranda beside him.

Miranda's face turned pale, her eyes showing panic and guilt.

She looked at the man sitting on the single sofa. His chiseled features were striking, his light blue eyes deep and cold, his nose tall, and his lips thin and cool.

The man recognized her as well, his blue eyes indifferent, brows slightly furrowed, revealing nothing of his thoughts.

"Miranda, this is my brother, Lawrence. Get to know each other."

Andrew introduced Miranda to his family, holding her hand.

This man was her boyfriend Andrew's brother, Lawrence Dawson...

Andrew noticed Miranda's palm was sweating. Thinking she was too nervous to speak, he gently reminded her, "Miranda?"

Miranda collected herself, calming her nerves.

She smiled gently and appropriately, greeting Laura. Laura, elegant and noble, smiled and nodded at Miranda.

Miranda turned her gaze to Lawrence.

Lawrence met Miranda's eyes with a sharp gaze, like a lion stalking its prey.

Suddenly, he stood up from the single sofa, approaching Miranda step by step.

Miranda swallowed nervously, steadying herself, and extended her hand. "Mr. Dawson, nice to meet you."

Lawrence sneered, his blue eyes fierce, exuding the aura of a superior, and his presence was overwhelming.

"Not just anyone gets a hand-kiss from me."

Miranda's face turned pale again, her hand trembled in mid-air before she awkwardly withdrew it.

Andrew, displeased, shielded Miranda and said, "Lawrence, Miranda is my girlfriend. How could you..."

"Mr. Lawrence!" The butler hurried in from outside, reporting, "Miss Dorsey has arrived and brought a gift for Lady Laura, but it's a bit large. She said Mr. Andrew needs to help with it."

Lawrence nodded, looking at Andrew. "Then, you should go help."

Andrew glanced at Miranda, reluctant to leave her alone in a strange banquet hall, "I can't bear to leave Miranda alone."

Lawrence studied Miranda expressionlessly. Miranda lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes again.

Her eyes always seemed to be watery.

At first glance, Lawrence recognized her. Miranda was the woman from that night at the bar. Their sex had been intense and passionate. She had cried and pleaded countless times under him, her eyes always wet, endearing, and hard to resist.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of Miss Larson."

Andrew said to Miranda, "Miranda, I'll be back soon."

Miranda smiled gently at Andrew, letting him go to greet the guests.

As soon as Andrew left, Lawrence didn't bow but extended his hand, saying, "Miss Larson, would you like to dance?"

Miranda knew that whether she wanted to or not, Lawrence would drag her into the dance floor.

Instead of being forced, she agreed gracefully and placed her hand in Lawrence's palm.

He tightened his grip, pulling her into the dance floor.

Lawrence held her right hand and slender waist. The handsome man and beautiful woman danced gracefully in the center.

Miranda had only taken two waltz lessons outside of school. It was her first high-society banquet, and her steps were awkward and unrefined. Yet, Lawrence, with no gentlemanly demeanor, deliberately sped up the tempo, knowing she wasn't familiar with waltzing.

"Miss Larson, your first time waltzing?" Lawrence asked disdainfully, his eyes fixed on her.

"This is my third time," Miranda responded to Lawrence, calmly adjusting her steps.

"I see," Lawrence smirked sarcastically. "You probably haven't had much opportunity to attend high-society events."

Miranda detected the mockery of her humble background in Lawrence's words and reminded him firmly, "Mr. Dawson, you're a beat too fast. The waltz has a beautiful, lyrical melody with graceful and smooth steps. Rushing it makes it awkward."

Lawrence's expression cooled, and he had to slow down and find the correct rhythm.

Twirling and bending, Lawrence eyed the woman who somehow caught up with his steps, a smirk on his lips as he teased, "I would not have thought that a social butterfly like you could waltz so well."

Miranda was taken aback, straightening up, instinctively trying to pull away from Lawrence's hand.

Lawrence held her waist firmly, forcing her to continue dancing with him.

"Why? Did I say something wrong?"

"Mr. Dawson, you misunderstand. I'm not that kind of woman," Miranda explained, her face pale.

"You're not?"

Lawrence scoffed, a cold glint in his eyes as he whispered darkly in her ear, "Not a social butterfly, yet you easily ended up in bed with me that night!"

"Mr. Dawson, believe it or not, I truly didn't know anything that night."

She was only following the club manager's orders to deliver wine, but once inside the room, she smelled something strange and lost control.

When she woke up, before she could speak, he had already thrown a 500-dollar check at her and left without looking back.

She had been trying to find him to return the check, but his status was so high that she had no chance to meet him again.

She never imagined they would meet again during her first visit to her boyfriend's home.

Lawrence sneered, his eyes filled with malice.

She had no evidence to prove her innocence, and anything she said would seem like an excuse to him.

They danced in silence, appearing to others as a perfect and harmonious couple.

Lawrence assumed Miranda had conceded, thinking he had exposed her true self, and coldly ordered, "Break up with Andrew immediately when you go back."

Miranda, frustrated by his repeated misunderstandings, replied coldly, "Why should I?"

Lawrence spoke disdainfully, "You're not good enough for my brother!"

Miranda straightened her back, responding sharply, "Mr. Dawson, I hope you learn to respect others. Being wealthy doesn't give you the right to trample on others' dignity!"

"Miranda!"

Andrew came in excitedly and said, "Miss Dorsey brought a gift you'll love."

Following Andrew's gaze, Miranda saw four guards carefully carrying in a white clavichord.

This rare Renaissance-era clavichord was invaluable.

Miranda was both shocked and delighted to see one in her lifetime.

It would be wonderful to play a piece on it tonight!

Clearly, the aristocrats at the banquet recognized its value and began to chatter.

Rayne Dorsey proudly approached Lawrence and said, "What do you think? I got this from a classical music auction, pretty good, right?"

"Not bad."

Lawrence, a businessman uninterested in pianos or music, knew his grandmother loved classical music.

He glanced over to see Laura already eager to touch the clavichord.

Rayne sighed, "Too bad there's no pianist tonight, or we could hear its sound."

"There is one."

Andrew proudly pushed Miranda forward and said, "Here's a world-class piano genius."

Lawrence's gaze was filled with doubt.

He had already labeled Miranda as a high-class social butterfly, doubting she was a pianist.

Seeing Laura still examining the clavichord, he told Rayne, "Go play something."

Rayne, not a professional pianist, had learned piano for a while and could play a simple piece.

"Alright, I'll give it a try."

Rayne confidently took the stage.

She played Beethoven's "Für Elise", a short, delicate piece. Rayne's performance was charming but basic.

The audience politely applauded.

Andrew clicked his tongue, finding Rayne's performance too ordinary and wishing Miranda would play on the beautiful clavichord.

He leaned close to Miranda and said, "Miranda, I want to hear you play. Will you play a piece for me?"

Lawrence, standing nearby, scoffed, "If Miss Larson is confident, why not give it a try?"

He wanted to see what level of performance this woman could deliver.