Scarlett #3
I bark a laugh sharp enough to cut. ‘Of her? Please. She’s all teeth and no bite. I’ve seen chihuahuas with more substance.’
Kai chuckles low, leaning forward, elbows on the table, eyes pinned to me like I’m the only thing in the room worth watching. ‘Funny. Didn’t sound like you hated watching her kiss me.’
Heat shoots up my neck, traitorous, and I drop my gaze to my plate, stabbing at the eggs until they’re nothing but shredded yellow mess. ‘She’s desperate. It was embarrassing, honestly. Throwing herself at you like that.’
He hums, tilting his head. ‘And yet you couldn’t look away.’
My jaw locks. ‘Maybe I was trying to figure out what you see in her. You usually go for—’ I pause, let my eyes flick up to his, then down again, voice dropping to a blade. ‘Never mind. Guess your standards slipped last night.’
His grin is sharp, dangerous, teeth flashing like a predator who knows the trap has already sprung. ‘Careful, little sister. Sounds a lot like you care.’
I shove my chair back — the scrape loud, biting. ‘What I care about is finishing breakfast without choking on someone else’s perfume.’
Even as I stand, even as I slam my plate into the sink harder than I need to, I feel his eyes on me — that same weight, heavy, hungry, daring me to admit what we both already know.
I turn too fast, my plate clattering into the sink, water splashing my wrist, and I make for the doorway before the heat crawling under my skin eats me alive. But I don’t make it two steps before his chair scrapes back hard and his hand catches my arm.
The grip isn’t rough, not really, but it might as well be a shackle.
‘Who are you fucking meeting, Scarlett?’ His voice is low, sharp, like he’s biting off each word before it can cut him.
I twist my wrist, glare up at him. ‘I told you — it’s just a friend.’
‘Bullshit.’ He steps closer, his body blocking mine from the exit, heat rolling off him, jaw tight. ‘You don’t sneak out at dawn for “just a friend”.’
The laugh that slips out of me is bitter, brittle. ‘What do you care? Go back to your little bar queen. She’ll keep your bed warm enough.’
His fingers tighten fractionally, his eyes narrowing, that dangerous blue flashing like a warning light. ‘Answer me.’
I yank my arm free, the skin hot where his hand leaves it. ‘It’s none of your business, Kai.’
For a second, neither of us moves. The hum of the fridge, the tick of the clock on the wall, the faint echo of Ava’s perfume still clinging to him — it all presses in, thick and suffocating.
He leans down, so close his breath brushes my cheek, but his voice is almost a whisper. ‘Everything you do is my business.’
The words hang between us, heavy, damning.
Then he straightens, smirk sliding back into place like armour, stepping aside with a mock bow. ‘Run along, then. Don’t keep your “friend” waiting.’
My heart is beating too hard, too loud, but I lift my chin, shove past him, and keep walking. If he sees how my hands are shaking, he doesn’t say a word.
My room is a mess of clothes strewn across the bed, the wardrobe half-emptied in my frantic search for something that feels like armour. I tell myself it’s for me, for confidence, for whoever’s waiting outside — but the truth coils ugly and undeniable in my chest. I want him to see.
I end up in the black dress. Short. Tight.
Straps thin against my shoulders, hem dangerous against my thighs.
My hair falls loose down my back, a slash of red lipstick across my mouth that looks like sin.
When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I almost laugh — because I look nothing like a little sister heading out for a friendly brunch. I look like trouble.
Good. Let him choke on it.
I grab my bag, slip my heels on, and creep down the stairs as quietly as I can, every muscle tense, heart thudding, certain Kai’s long gone back to whatever cave he crawled from. The hallway is silent, the front door only a few feet away, freedom hanging within reach.
‘Going somewhere?’
His voice slices through the air behind me.
I freeze, spine locking, and turn slowly.
He’s there — leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, hair a little damp from a shower, clean shirt stretched across his shoulders. His eyes drag over me in one slow sweep, head to toe, and the look is nothing like a brother’s.
It’s possession. Hunger.
It makes my knees weak.
For a heartbeat he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move — just lets his gaze burn over every inch of bare skin I’ve dared to show. His jaw ticks, his throat works, and then that dangerous smirk carves across his mouth.
‘Interesting outfit,’ Kai murmurs, voice low. ‘Does your friend know you’re planning to kill him with it?’
My chest heaves, heat flooding my face, but I force a laugh — brittle, sharp. ‘Maybe that’s the point.’
His eyes narrow, glinting. ‘He won’t survive five minutes.’
He pushes off the wall — slow, deliberate — and closes the space between us until the door blocks us, and the air is thick, and my back hits the wood. His hand lifts, just barely brushing my hair back over my shoulder, knuckles grazing my skin like a dare.
‘No,’ he says finally, eyes burning into mine. ‘No friend deserves you looking like this.’
My breath stutters. My mouth opens, closes. I don’t move. I can’t.
For the first time, Kai isn’t looking at me like a brother.
He’s looking at me like I’m his favourite sin.
The wood is cold against my spine, my bag slipping from my shoulder to the floor, forgotten — because Kai is too close, his breath brushing my cheek, his scent drowning me: soap, coffee, danger.
His fingers trail down the strap of my dress, just a whisper of touch, knuckle grazing bare skin until goosebumps rise down my arm. He tilts his head, blue eyes catching mine like he’s peeling me open one layer at a time.
‘Tell me, little sister,’ he murmurs, voice low, lethal, threaded with something that makes my stomach knot, ‘are you still a virgin?’
The air leaves my lungs in a stutter. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
His smirk sharpens — cruel, knowing. His fingertip drags along the inside of my wrist now, feather-light, enough to make me squirm, enough to make my knees lock so I don’t buckle.
‘Or are you planning on losing it to…’ He pauses, his mouth brushing so close to my ear I feel the heat of every word. ‘…your friend?’
I can’t answer. I can’t breathe. My body betrays me, heat pooling low, a tremor running through me that I pray he can’t feel — but of course he does. His grin tells me he does.
I try to push past him, but his hand presses flat to the door beside my head, blocking me in.
‘Just one more thing before you go,’ Kai says, his tone dark now — promise wrapped in threat. His gaze cuts down my body, back to my face, burning. ‘If your friend lays a hand on you—’ his jaw flexes, his breath rough against my skin, ‘I will fucking cut them off.’
The silence after is deafening. My pulse is thunder, my breath ragged, and I know I should shove him back, scream at him, run — but I don’t.
I just stand there, pinned under his stare, my body betraying me with every shiver, every unspoken answer.
My throat is dry, my palms damp, and I know he can see it — the way I’m trembling, the way my chest rises too fast, like he’s already won. I force my chin higher, scrape my voice together and spit out the first words that don’t sound like begging.
‘You’re insane,’ I whisper — brittle, sharp at the edges. ‘You don’t get to dictate my life just because we share a roof. Or a last name. Or—’ My voice cracks and I hate it, so I swallow hard and push again. ‘Maybe I want him to touch me. Maybe I’ll let him.’
The lie burns my tongue, the bravado collapsing even as I say it.
Kai’s smile curves slow, lethally, like he’s savouring the way I stumble over my own defiance. His knuckle trails along my collarbone, a featherlight drag that makes my breath catch despite every ounce of pride in me.
‘Maybe you will,’ he murmurs — eyes dark, voice velvet and venom. ‘But you’ll think of me when you do.’
My knees nearly buckle. I shove at his chest — not hard enough to move him, just enough to break the current sparking between us. ‘Get out of my way, Kai.’
For a beat, he doesn’t move. Then he steps back, just enough to let the air between us rush in, cold and thin. His gaze lingers, burning like a brand, and when he finally speaks, it’s soft enough to split me open.
‘Run along then, little sister.’ His smirk deepens, cruel and certain. ‘Let’s see how far you get.’
I grab my bag, fumble with the handle, and shove the door open. The sunlight outside feels too bright, too sharp — but it doesn’t chase away the heat of his breath in my ear, the ghost of his words wrapped around my throat.