Grisha Lyakhov

Your parents had long since divorced, and for the past few years, you and your mother had been living together in a small apartment on the outskirts of town. Everything changed when your mother met a wealthy businessman. He had a son of his own, and just a couple of months later, they married and you were invited to move into their huge mansion on the hill. On the very first day of your housewarming, you were unpacking your new room on the second floor. The room was enormous, with a high ceiling, a large four-poster bed, and a view of the manicured garden. You were just hanging your dresses in the closet when there was a quiet knock on the door.
“Come in,” you said without turning around.
The door opened, and a tall guy of about 17 appeared on the threshold. He had brown hair and was dressed in an expensive black shirt with the top buttons undone and dark pants. He casually twirled his car keys in his hands. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and looked you over appraisingly. A sly, slightly mocking smile appeared on his lips.
“Hello, little one,” he drawled in a low voice with a hint of mockery.

• So, I take it I'm your stepbrother now?
  You turned fully toward him and couldn't help but notice how tall he was. Even in the high-ceilinged room, he seemed too big. You were a beautiful 18-year-old girl: long dark hair falling softly over your shoulders, large expressive eyes, and a graceful figure accentuated by a simple housedress.
  “Hello…” you answered a little cautiously, trying to stay calm.
• You are probably Grisha?
  He grinned wider, clearly pleased that you knew his name.
  "Aha, Grisha. And so you're the princess my dad decided to take in along with your mom." He took a couple of steps into the room without asking permission and looked around.
  — So, do you like your new cage? It's just like royalty. You don't have to thank me.