Craving The Wrong Brother

Chapter 1 A Hot Nerd ~~SLOANE~~ "I can't believe she did this to me, Sloane," Finn says. I've been in love with my best friend, Finn Hartley, since we met in college ten years ago. It's not like I'll ever tell him I have feelings for him. I know he doesn't see me that way. He probably won't ever see me that way. Right now, we're in his living room, and I'm holding him to my ch**t, listening to him sob. That d**n girlfriend of his has broken his heart again, the third time this year. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to ignore how good it feels. "What exactly did she do?" I ask. "You still haven't told me." "I don't know how to say it." "Well, start from somewhere." My patience is wearing thin. I've been here for hours, sacrificing my Saturday to watch him disintegrate. I don't know why he bothers crying when he'll be back in her b*d by next week anyway. They do this every d**n time. I should be more sympathetic, I know. But ten years of watching him chase after the same toxic woman tends to erode a person's sympathy. "Delilah's not coming back, Slaone," he says. "She left me for good this time." "You know that's a lie." "It's true. She's engaged. She sent me this digital wedding invitation, and I've been thinking about running my phone through a meat grinder." That actually surprises me. Engaged? Delilah's getting married? Finn pulls away from me, and I can finally see his face. The stubble on his jaw has grown past the s**y phase into something wilder. His white t-shirt is rumpled and stained with what might be yesterday's dinner. I've never seen him this wrecked, and that's saying something. He fumbles for his phone, fingers trembling as he pulls up the screen. Then he thrusts the phone at me. There it is-a nauseating rose-gold invitation with flowing script announcing the union of Delilah Crestfield and some guy named Hunter. Eight weeks from now. My heart skips several beats, a fluttering sensation spreading through my ch**t. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. This is the best news I've heard in years. The witch is finally, actually, genuinely out of the picture. "Poor baby," I say, trying to sound sympathetic. "Did you know she was dating someone else?" "I mean, it's Delilah. When has she ever been faithful?" "You've got a point." I hand him back his phone. "I just can't believe she's leaving me, Sloane." He collapses back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some cosmic explanation. "I find it hard to believe myself," I say. My eyes trace his strong jaw, his lips, the eyelashes spiked with dried tears. I've memorized every inch of his face over the years, cataloged every expression. This one is new-complete and utter defeat. It should make me sad to see him so broken, but all I can think is, 'This is my chance.' They've been lovers since high school, way before I came into Finn's life. Sometimes I wonder if that's the key to her hold on him-she knew him before I did, when he was just a boy with a fragile heart. I've watched Delilah string him along, always knowing she'd come back for another round. The thought that she's finally cut him loose is both thrilling and terrifying. What happens to us now? "Who am I without her, Sloane?" Finn asks. "You're Finn Hartley. You'll be alright." I reach over to squeeze his knee. "I can't be alright without Lila." "There are over eight billion people in this world, statistically. Just pick someone new." "Statistically? You're such a nerd." His words hurt. He's said it a million times before, his usual teasing about my cybersecurity analyst job, my love for random facts, and my collection of vintage sci-fi novels. But today it lands differently. A nerd. That's all I am to him. Not a woman. Never a woman. I stand abruptly, smoothing down my jeans and adjusting my glasses. I'll show him just how wild I can be. "You know what?" I say. "Let's go to a c**b and get wasted." Finn looks at me like I've suggested we rob a bank. "You want to go to a c**b?" "Yes." "Have you ever been to a c**b before?" He sits up straighter, some of the fog clearing from his eyes as he takes me in-plain Sloane in her weekend uniform of jeans and a faded band t-shirt, hair in its usual bob and bangs. "Not exactly. But there'll be dr**king and dancing. I bet it will be fun." I sound more confident than I feel. The truth is, c**bs are my personal h**l-loud music, sweaty strangers, overpriced dr**ks. But I'd walk through actual fire if it would make Finn smile again. A slow grin spreads across his face. "Great," he says. "You're right. I need a distraction." He stands up, suddenly energized. "I'll go put on something appropriate, and then we'll stop by your house so you can change out of whatever the h**l you have on right now." I look down at my outfit, suddenly self-conscious. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" "Nothing, if we were going to a library book sale." He disappears into his bedroom, calling back, "Trust me, Sloane. Let's show Delilah what she's missing!" I sink back onto the couch, already regretting my impulsive idea. What have I gotten myself into? ~~~ The c**b is everything I feared and worse. The dress Finn insisted I wear-pulled from the back of my closet, a relic from a cousin's wedding three years ago-is too tight, too short, and making me painfully aware of body parts I usually manage to ignore. We've been here for forty minutes. Forty minutes of watching Finn transform into someone I barely recognize-throwing back shots at the b*r. Twenty minutes ago, he found a girl-a tall, willowy blonde in a dress that looks spray-painted onto her body. Amber. That's her name. I stand awkwardly at the dance floor, nursing a watered-down vodka soda, watching Finn and Amber gr**d against each other in a way that should probably be illegal in public. Her back is to his ch**t, her arms raised above her head, fingers tangled in his hair. His hands are on her h**s, guiding her movements, his face buried in her neck. I feel sick. I feel st**id. I feel painfully, obviously alone. "Sloane?" Finn calls out. "You can't just stand there. Dance!" "I don't know how to," I shout back. Amber frowns at me. "Then why are you here?" "To keep an eye on my best friend." "Like a chaperone?" "Yes," I say. "In case you try to slip him a ro**ie or something." Finn looks embarrassed. "Just ignore her," he says to Amber, his arm tightening around her waist. "She's a control freak." Amber snorts. "More like your mom." "Big sister would be more appropriate," Finn corrects. Amber's eyes rake over me in a way that makes my skin prickle. "She's hot though, with her bangs and sc**w-me glasses. A hot nerd." Finn grimaces. "That's not a very comfortable image." "Come on. Don't you see it?" "See what?" "You don't find her ne**ish vibes stimulating?" Finn is thankfully avoiding my eyes. "More dancing, less talking." "Seriously? You're not even a little te**ted to see Sloane na**d?" Chapter 2 A Plane Ticket I feel my face flame. Who does this girl think she is? "I'm not," Finn replies, not even pausing to think. "Bummer." Amber pouts. "I do want to see her na**d, though." What's her problem? Is she mocking me? Making fun of the plain, awkward friend? Or is there something genuine in her interest? Either way, I don't want to stick around to find out. I turn and push my way through the crowd, heading for the restroom, needing space, air, silence. St**id, st**id, st**id, I chant silently. What did I expect would happen tonight In the bathroom, I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the smudged mirror. "Get your s**t together," I mutter. "This was your idea." My brilliant plan to cheer up Finn has backfired spectacularly. Instead of distracting him from Delilah, I've pushed him into the arms of Amber. And now I'm hiding in a bathroom while they're probably exchanging sa**va and phone numbers. I splash some cold water on my wrists, reapply my lipstick, and steel myself to go back out there. I'm a grown woman. I can handle watching my best friend h**k up with someone else. I've been doing it for a decade. But when I finally brave the c**b again, scanning the dancefloor for Finn's familiar form, he's nowhere to be found. The spot where he and Amber were dancing is now occupied by a group of college-aged girls taking selfies. Panic flares in my ch**t as I push through sweaty bodies, searching. He wouldn't leave without me. Would he? I spot them just as they're slipping out the front door, Finn's arm wrapped around Amber's waist, her head thrown back in laughter at something he's said. They're leaving. Together. Without so much as a text. I shove my way to the exit, ignoring the cu**es and glares thrown my way. The cool night air hits me as I burst outside, just in time to see Finn fumbling with keys-my keys-at my car. "Hey, hey, hey. Where are you going?" I hurry toward them, my heels clicking on the pavement. Finn looks up, startled. "We're taking the party home, Sloane." "And you decided to take my car?" He has the decency to look sheepish, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck in that familiar gesture I usually find captivating. But tonight, it just feeds my anger. How dare he stand there looking boyishly embarrassed while he was about to steal my car? Amber just rolls her eyes. "Chill, Mom. You can Uber home." "I will do no such thing." I snatch my keys from Finn's hand. "You two are dr**k. Get in the backseat. I'll drive." Amber's eyes narrow, but she slides into the car anyway. Finn follows her, not quite meeting my eyes. I slam the door behind them harder than necessary. The drive is excruciating. My knuckles are white on the wheel as I navigate the dark streets, trying to ignore what's happening in my rearview mirror. But it's impossible not to hear them-the whispers, the giggles, the w*t sounds of ki**ing. I turn up the radio, but even that can't drown out their murmurs. "I want you so bad," Finn says. "Take me right here, right now," Amber responds. Her voice makes my skin crawl. "Eww. If you have s*x in my car, I'm flinging you both right out the window," I say, swerving slightly as I turn to glare at them. They're tangled together in the backseat, Amber catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. "Wanna join us? It will be fun." I nearly drive us off the road. "What?" My voice comes out as a squeak. "You heard me. I've always wanted to try a th**esome." Finn's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. He can tell I'm pissed. "Amber, I don't think-" "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it, Finn," she cuts him off. "Your h*t little n**d friend, all worked up and desperate. I bet she's wild under all that... restraint." My face burns so hot I'm surprised the car windows don't fog. "You're dr**k," I manage to say. "Both of you." "Not that dr**k," Amber purrs. "Just dr**k enough to be honest. What do you say, Sloane? You, me, and Finn? I bet you've imagined Finn's hands on you a million times." The car falls silent except for the hum of the engine and my own thundering heartbeat. Amber has spoken my deepest, most guarded secret out loud, thrown it into the air between us like it's nothing. Like it's just another dr**ken suggestion, not the thing that's kept me awake for countless nights. I grip the steering wheel tighter, focused on the road ahead, afraid to look in the mirror again. Afraid of what Finn might see in my face. "Amber, stop," Finn says. "You're making her uncomfortable." "Am I?" Amber leans toward me. "Or am I just saying what Sloane is thinking? That's why you followed Finn here as his chaperone, isn't it? You want him." I slam on the brakes, pulling sharply to the curb. "Get out," I say, my voice shaking. "Both of you. Get out of my car." "Sloane, come on," Finn says. "I'm serious. Get out. Take an Uber to your place. I'm going home." Amber laughs, the sound like glass breaking. "Oh my god, I was right. You totally want to f**k him." "Amber!" Finn hisses. "That's enough." Is that all she thinks this is? Some base physical attraction? She has no idea what Finn means to me. No concept of the depth of feelings I have for him. She's reduced my love to something ta**ry, something sh**eful. My hands are trembling as I turn to face them. "Get. Out. Now." Something in my expression must convince them I'm serious. Finn gets out first, then helps Amber, who's still laughing as she stumbles onto the sidewalk. I don't wait to see where they go. I pull away from the curb with a screech of tires, my vision blurred with unshed tears. ~~~ For almost a week, I ignore Finn's calls. My phone rings. I let it. It pings. I swipe it away. I bury myself in work, hoping it will overwrite the humiliation burning through my veins. But Finn Hartley is like a cockroach. He always finds a way in. "Are you avoiding me, Sloane?" he asks from above me. I look up from my monitor. He's there, leaning against the edge of my cubicle like he owns the building. His hair is a tousled mess, dark eyes smudged with sleeplessness. He looks... wrecked. Good. "Who let you in?" I say. "The receptionist has a crush on me, remember?" "Finn, I'm busy." I turn back to my screen. "Can we talk later?" Hopefully never. "I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." I glance around. My coworkers are openly gawking. Jenna from accounting literally just nudged Carla from IT. Fantastic. Now I'm the office drama spectacle "Will you keep your voice down?" I hiss. "People are watching." He grins. "More like they're checking me out." "You're so full of yourself." "What's with the attitude? Is it... that time of the month or something?" Oh. Oh, this motherf**ker. I swivel my chair toward him, eyes narrowing. "Did you really just-" "I'm kidding!" he raises his hands in surrender. "Jesus, Sloane. What the h**l is going on with you?" What's going on with me? He's seriously acting like he doesn't know? Fine, let's play this game together. I stare at him, throat tight. "What do you want, Finn?" He reaches into his jacket and tosses something onto my desk. "What is that?" I ask. "A plane ticket to Asheville, North Carolina. I booked it for seven weeks from now." I frown, not liking where this is headed. "Why are you giving me a plane ticket, Finn?" "You and I are crashing Delilah's wedding." Chapter 3 Meeting The Wrong Brother I drag Finn by his jacket all the way to my company's parking lot, ignoring his protests. The moment we're in front of his car, I whirl around to face him. "What is wrong with you?" I ask. "You seriously want to crash your ex's wedding? Have you completely lost your mind?" Finn runs a hand through his hair. "I need closure, Sloane." "No, Finn. You need professional help. Therapy." "I can't just sit still and watch the woman I love marry someone else." God. I want to punch him in the face. I want to k**s him until he forgets Delilah Crestfield ever existed. I want to scream until I shake the stars loose from the sky. "So what's the plan, huh? You gonna storm the aisle? Ruin her big day? Shove the groom off the altar and declare your undying love like some cliché rom-com protagonist? Jesus, Finn, you're better than this." "I don't want to destroy the wedding," he mutters. "I just... I need her to look me in the eyes and tell me it's over." My breath catches. I hate him. I hate how st**idly, pathetically in love with Delilah he still is. How after everything-after the endless heartbreaks-he still thinks she hung the sun, moon, and stars. "Well, I'm not going with you," I say. "Why not?" "Because I don't want to." "You're going, Sloane. End of discussion." "I am not." "I need you." Oh. There it is. The words that crack me open and leave me bl**ding all over this parking lot. I hate how my pulse jumps. Hate how he still has this power over me. "If things... don't exactly go as planned," he continues, stepping closer, "I need my best friend beside me. I'm not sure I'll survive on my own if Delilah goes through with this wedding." Of course he needs me. He always needs me. I've been stitching Finn back together for so long, I could probably rebuild him from memory. I know every crack, every fracture. I've held the broken pieces of him in my hands and pressed them back into place more times than I can count. But I'm tired. I'm so tired of loving him when he's never even thought to love me back. I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to meet his eyes. "I'm not your emotional support animal, Finn." "Please, Sloane. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." And just like that, I cave. Because I'm weak. Because I'm pathetic. Because I love him. I will always love him. "Fine," I say. "But when this inevitably blows up in your face, I'm not picking up the pieces this time." Even as I say it, we both know it's a lie. Finn grins, that boyish, lopsided smile that makes my heart skip. "Deal." "Did you at least get me a first-class ticket?" "You know I don't do economy, Sloane." "Whatever." I turn on my heel and march back to the office. We're really doing this. We're really flying across the country to crash his ex's wedding. What could possibly go wrong? ~~~ [Seven weeks later] I've been waiting at Asheville Regional Airport for over an hour, my suitcase propped against my legs. Finn was supposed to meet me the moment I landed. But of course, Finn Hartley, master of emotional chaos and poor decision-making, is nowhere to be found. I've tried calling him. No answer. Tried texting. Left on read. I check my phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing. The battery's at 12%-just enough to call an Uber and find the nearest hotel if I have to. I'm seconds away from throwing my phone against a wall when I hear the low purr of an engine that sounds like it crawled straight out of h**l-a deep, thunderous growl that makes several people nearby turn and stare. I raise my head just in time to see a monstrous black Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 glide to a stop in front of me. The window rolls down, and-God help me-the man behind the wheel looks like sin itself. He's beautiful in a way that feels wrong. Dangerous. Sharp-jawed, dark-haired, and dressed in all black like he's either about to commit ar**n or m**der. His eyes drag over me from head to toe, sizing me up. I resist the urge to smooth down my travel-rumpled clothes or fix my hair. "Sloane Mercer?" he says. I blink. "Who are you?" "I guess you can call me the wrong brother," he replies. "What?" "Forgive my manners," he says, his voice smooth, deep, and annoyingly s**y. "I'm Knox Hartley. Finn's brother. Finn sent me to chauffeur you to our parents' house." Chapter 4 Torture Devices So this is the infamous Knox. I've heard stories. Finn talks about him the way you'd talk about a stray wolf that occasionally shows up to your campfire, steals your food, and disappears back into the woods. Wild. Unpredictable. Maybe even a little unhinged. Now that I think about it, he does resemble Finn-same sharp bone structure, same annoyingly perfect mouth. But where Finn is sunshine and charm, Knox looks like he crawled out of a lifestyle magazine for sophisticated gangsters. "How do I know you're not a kidnapper?" I ask, tilting my chin up. "You'll have to provide proof that you're who you say you are." "Like an ID card?" "That would work." "I don't have any." "See? Kidnapper vibes," I say. "Why don't you call Finn and confirm?" I cross my arms. "He's not answering. Why do you think I've been standing here for an hour like an abandoned dog?" I glance at the car. "And you showing up in an aggressive-looking muscle car that screams 'mafia boss' isn't exactly helping your case." "Are you getting in or not? I have places to be, young lady." "Young lady? Did you really just belittle me?" Knox sighs, a long-suffering sound that suggests I'm testing what little patience he has. "Get in, Sloane." I stare at him, deadpan. Then I sigh, because clearly, I have zero self-preservation instincts. I've already agreed to help Finn crash his ex's wedding. Getting into a car with his potentially mu**erous brother isn't even the worst decision I've made this month. "Open your trunk," I say. Knox pops the trunk from inside, and I toss my bag in, muttering to myself about how this is how women end up on true crime podcasts. When I slide into the passenger seat, Knox doesn't move. "Why aren't you driving?" I ask, glancing sideways at him. "Your seatbelt." Oh. A safety-conscious potential kidnapper. That's... unexpected. I snap it in place with a click, and he guns the engine, pulling out of the airport pickup zone and onto the highway with a smooth acceleration that pushes me back into my seat. The moment we hit the open road, he speeds up, the Shelby Mustang roaring beneath us like a beast unleashed. "Whoa, slow down!" My hands instinctively grip the edge of my seat. "Wanna get out?" he asks. "No. But you're moving too fast. I can't even see the city." "Asheville? There's nothing to see." "Easy for you to say. You've probably lived here all your life and traveled the world. I hardly leave New York. When I do, I like to... fill my eyes." It sounds poetic when I say it out loud, almost embarrassing. But it's true. I collect moments, images, sensations. Store them away for the lonely nights when my apartment feels too empty and my thoughts too loud. "You think I live in Asheville?" he asks. I turn to him. "You don't?" "Nope. New York." Wait a d**n minute. "You've been in New York all this time," I say. "You sound shocked." "It's just... Finn's never mentioned that. Ever. How do you both live in the same city and never cross paths?" "Finn and I have a... complex relationship." The way he says it makes me drop the subject. We drive in tense silence for a while, until Knox suddenly swerves off the main road with no warning, the car taking a sharp turn that has me clutching the door handle. He parks in front of a dimly lit building with neon red letters that read: SENSUAL DELIGHTS. "Umm... Is this your parents' house?" I ask, knowing full well it isn't. Knox smirks. "Se**ual Delights? Really? Does it look like a house to you?" The place is exactly what you'd expect an ad**t store to look like. Dark windows. Shady alleyway. "A s*x shop?" I ask. "Bingo." My brain short-circuits. "Why are we at here?" "Need to grab a wedding present." "For who?" "My friend and his bride." I hesitate, swallowing hard as the pieces click into place in my mind. "Wait... your friend is Hunter? The groom?" "Yep." "Delilah's fiancé?" Knox grins wickedly. "Yep." Oh, for God's sake. Finn's brother is a friend to Delilah's fiancé? Why has Finn never mentioned any of this? It's like I know nothing about my own best friend. This is just a time bomb waiting to go off. "Would you like to wait here or come inside?" Knox asks. I glance at the building, then back at his face. Screw it. I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the car, awkwardly adjusting my glasses and smoothing imaginary wrinkles out of my top. "Let's go buy some torture devices in Delilah's name," I say, not the least bit joking. Knox chuckles. "Alright, ma'am. But I must warn you, some girls do enjoy being to**ured." We'll see about that. I'm going to get something with enough voltage to z*p Delilah's fake, cheating a*s right off the face of this Earth so she doesn't get to ruin Finn anymore. Chapter 5 Ever Heard Of Knocking? ~~KNOX~~ I must say, I did not expect Finn's best friend to be this charming. Finn's always painted her as some awkward n**d. But this? This sharp-tongued, darkly dressed woman standing in the middle of the s*x shop, casually discussing electrocution and B**M gear with the sales rep, is not what I signed up for. And yet... I can't look away. Her leather pants are sinfully tight. Her dark boots are heavy against the polished floor. Her blouse clings to her like a second skin, and those blunt bangs and glasses? They remind me of the do**natrixes in my c**b. All she's missing is a riding c**p and a stern command on those full lips. I watch as she lifts a violet wand, a device used to deliver electrical sensations such as shocks. "How dangerous is this?" she asks the sales rep. "In what sense?" "Like... would the highest voltage be enough to cause, I don't know... electrocution? Just enough to zap someone's soul out of their body." I nearly choke fighting a laugh. "These devices are built to be completely safe," the sales rep says. "They're designed for sensory p**y, not... actual harm." Sloane sighs, setting the wand back on the display. "That's a bummer," she says. She turns to the sales rep with the most deadpan expression I've ever seen. "Are you sure there's nothing more deadly around here?" The sales rep's eyes widen. "Technically... if you think about it," she stammers, "everything is potentially life-threatening, right? I mean... people have died from sneezing too hard." "So the answer's no?" I can't do this anymore. The poor girl looks like she's about to call security or faint. I step forward, sliding smoothly into their conversation. "Pardon my wife," I say, placing my hand at the small of Sloane's back. I feel her stiffen. "She gets... intense sometimes. We'll take it from here." The sales rep all but runs away. Sloane is staring at me strangely. It probably has something to do with me mentioning the word 'wife.' "You know," I say, leaning in close enough to catch her scent, "if you really want Delilah dead, you could just hire an as**ssin." "That'd be too obvious. They'll track it right back to me." I smile. "Right. But if you do it right, they won't." "Do you have a contact?" I shake my head. "I don't." "So you're like a fake g**gster?" "Who says I'm a g**gster?" She eyes the tat**os peeking from my shirt. "You're not?" I chuckle. This is going to be fun. "Tell you what," I say. "I'll let you know as soon as I find an as**ssin." "That'd be very much appreciated." I release her and start browsing the shelves, casually grabbing a pair of handcuffs, a leather paddle, and a silk blindfold. I hear Sloane following behind me. "You seem well-versed in all this," she says. "It's as if you know exactly what you're buying." "It's my line of work." She pauses. "You sell s*x toys?" "More like... I produce them. And I own a s*x c**b," I say, turning to face her, bracing for her reaction. Most people either get uncomfortably excited or visibly repulsed. Both reactions are tedious. She just stares at me, face blank. "You must be lo**ed," she says. I didn't expect that at all. "Well..." "Well, what, Knox?" "I wouldn't know." She frowns. "The fact that you're not sure if you're loaded means you actually are. Poor people don't have doubts that they're poor." "Is that right?" "Yep. You're definitely loaded." I smile. "Okay, Sloane. Whatever you say." I can't remember the last time I enjoyed talking to someone this much. She's... different. Most people get all weird when I mention my line of work, my family included. But she seems normal about it. Like it's just another job-which it is, albeit a lucrative one. Which is probably why I can't stop myself from asking what's been on my mind for a while. "So... you and Finn. Are you two... a thing?" Her face goes stiff. "No." "Do you sl**p together?" I ask. "H**l no." "Right." She looks ready to m**der me. We check out the items at the counter, asking for them to be gift-wrapped. As we sit waiting, Sloane crosses her arms. "How are you comfortable with your friend marrying your brother's ex?" she asks. Hmm. She went right in. "Well," I say. "Delilah's a gold digger. Hunter has the money." "Ah. Classic." "Hunter's my friend. I might not like his choices, but as a friend, I respect them." "Are you really a friend if you can't fight some sense into him?" "That would only make me the enemy. You won't win a fight against love, Sloane." She glares at me. "I can definitely try." I smile, unable to help myself. Her naivety is both endearing and tragic. "How long have you been trying with Finn?" I ask. "Where has that gotten you?" Her entire body stiffens. I've hit a nerve. I should stop. Shouldn't push her. But there's just something about her. Something about seeing someone so pure and innocent that makes you want to crack them open. Break them apart. "The universe is going to align people who are meant to be together," I say, eyes fixed on her. "Whether they're good or bad. Whether it makes sense or not. Best you can do is let people live their lives, Sloane." Her eyes are blazing. "You're not a very good friend, Knox," she says. "Because I tell myself the truth?" "No. Because you're selfish." I smirk. "Oh? And where has selflessness gotten you? Have you had a proper date in months? Are you seeing someone right now? Or does your entire life revolve around Finn Hartley and his pathetic obsession with a woman who doesn't give a s**t about him?" Her eyes darken with something vi**ent And for a moment, I think she's going to s**p me. God, I almost wish she would. But instead, she rises to her feet, her eyes burning holes through my soul. "F**k you," she spits, turning on her heel and storming toward the exit. I lean back against the counter, watching her walk away. Her h**s sway a little too much in those tight leather pants. Perfection. I'm going to have a hard time keeping myself from provoking Sloane throughout this wedding. I'm also going to have a hard time keeping my eyes-and my hands-off her. She's trouble. The kind of trouble I want to drag into my b*d and ruin. ~~~ Slaone stares out the window throughout our trip home. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Silent. It's honestly impressive how committed she is to ignoring me. Not a single glance in my direction, not even when I deliberately rev the engine just to see if she'll react. I'll admit, I kind of miss the talkative Sloane. When I pull into my parents' house, her head jerks up. I can see her looking at the mansion in surprise, with so many questions written on her face. But whatever she wants to say, she swallows it back. She unbuckles, gets out of the car, and pulls her bag out of the trunk. "Let me help you with that," I say. "No. I have hands. Thank you very much." O-kay. I let her have that one, walking beside her as she marches toward the entrance. I open the front door for her, and when she walks in, her eyes sweep over the grand foyer. "Is there something I should know about your parents?" she says, finally speaking to me. "Like what?" I ask, though I know exactly what she means. I've seen this reaction before. "Like, are they from old money or something?" "You can ask your best friend. He's upstairs." She rolls her eyes, turning her attention to the massive staircase stretching up to the second floor. I know what's on her mind. She's wondering how she's going to drag that bag all the way up. "Just keep the bag down, Sloane," I say, amused. "Someone will take it." She doesn't argue. She drops it. "Where are your parents?" she asks. "Out of the country. They should be back tomorrow or next." "Great," she mutters. "So we have the house to ourselves?" "Umm... once you exclude the employees, I guess we do." "Awesome." She gives me a look. "Please lead me to Finn's room." I press a hand to my ch**t mockingly. "Of course, ma'am." I lead her up the stairs. We walk down the long hallway before stopping in front of Finn's room. I don't even bother knocking, just push the door open. "Little brother," I announce. "Your bestie is here." And then we see it. Finn and Delilah are k**sing... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &2&