My Best Friend's Brother

~Joan~

"This place is... wow," I muttered as we entered the house, its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, a fireplace glowing faintly, a rooftop pool gleaming under the fading light, and more rooms than I could count. The house was absolutely perfect, yet something felt off.

"So... how did you know about this place?" I asked Rhoda, who had already sunk into the plush sofa, crossing her legs, while I stood by the window staring at the dazzling city of Spain below.

"Well, this is one of Aaron's properties," she chuckled. My stomach dropped. Aaron?

"He doesn't know we're here. I have the spare keys to the building. I mean, why ask when I can just walk in?" Rhoda said, making a playful gesture with her arms, her smile wide and carefree.

"This is Aaron's house?" I asked slowly. She whipped her head around, her smile fading, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah, it's his." Her voice grew sharper as she met my gaze. "What's going on?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling disbelief wash over me. "I can't believe you brought me to Aaron's house of all places," I muttered, my pulse quickening. I felt foolish for admiring the place, now knowing it belonged to the last person I ever wanted to be near.

Rhoda straightened up on the couch, her amusement dimming. "Exactly why I said he has no idea we're here. Jo, your feud with my brother is seriously getting ridiculous."

"Oh, really? You think this is childish?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "Have you forgotten the time we both landed in jail and he bailed you out, leaving me there to rot?"

Rhoda opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "Or the time we crashed his party, and guess who got blamed for that? Me! He called me a bad influence, told me to stop dragging you into 'bad things.' He acts like I'm the villain in your life."

"Jo..." Rhoda started softly, probably trying to calm me down, but my anger was bubbling over.

"And now you bring me to his house? You really think I won't get blamed for this too?" I spat, feeling the sting of frustration in my chest.

Rhoda stood and closed the distance between us, her face softening. "Jo, I'm really sorry. I didn't think. I just wanted us to enjoy our girls' trip, and this house is... well, it's perfect." She gestured to the room around us, but I barely glanced at it. "I should have talked to you about it. You're right."

I exhaled slowly, trying to push away the tension in my body. "If we hadn't spent a small fortune getting here, I'd drag us both back to New York right now," I muttered.

Rhoda grinned, relief flooding her face as she pulled me into a hug. "Now come on, let's go explore the city. We didn't come all this way to sit inside, did we?"

"Please tell me we're going to see Barcelona," I said as she grabbed my hand, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course! Coming to Spain and skipping Barcelona would be criminal," she replied as we headed to the bedroom where our luggage was dropped.

I tried to shake off my discomfort while Rhoda gushed over the inbuilt walk-in closet. I forced myself to admire the design of the room, but my insides churned. The house was beautiful, but knowing who owned it left a bad taste in my mouth. Something was gnawing at me, and I couldn't shake the sense that everything was about to go wrong. My instincts had never failed me before.

"Tomorrow, we'll get up early enough to make it to Madrid in time," Rhoda said cheerfully as we walked back after wandering through a few blocks and malls.

I hummed in response, distracted, my mind still not fully in the moment. Rhoda tipped her head back, letting the cool evening breeze wash over her face, her eyes closed, a peaceful smile on her lips.

"It's nice to breathe fresh air outside of New York," she sighed. I glanced over at her and followed her lead, lifting my gaze to the night sky. The tension in my muscles eased ever so slightly.

Rhoda suddenly snapped her eyes open, a mischievous glint in them. "First one back to the house gets a paid manicure at the fanciest salon in the city!" she challenged, and before I could respond, she darted off, her laughter trailing behind her.

I couldn't help but laugh, my worries slipping away for just a moment as I chased after her. By the time we stumbled back into the house, both of us out of breath and giggling, it felt like a weight had been lifted, if only temporarily.

Maybe I could enjoy this trip after all.

Rhoda pushed the door open and froze, her smile vanishing. I stepped in behind her, peeking over her shoulder, and my heart sank.

There he was, sitting in the living room, swirling a glass of something dark. His expression was unreadable as he downed the last of his drink, the sound of the glass slamming against the table cutting through the silence. Rhoda shuddered, and I felt a knot form in my stomach as I frowned.

Aaron.

The devil had arrived.

~Joan~

The silence was thick, in the air, waiting for someone to break it. Aaron's dark eyes flicked toward his sister before locking onto me, their heat unmistakable. His gaze hardened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He leaned back into the sofa, surveying both of us like he'd caught us red-handed doing something wrong.

His expression was unreadable, but the anger radiating from him was sharp, palpable. Only one question echoed in my mind: how did he know we were here? Rhoda had insisted he didn't have a clue-she hadn't even told him.

"Rhoda..." His voice was low, cold, perfectly controlled, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "Care to explain what you're doing in 'my' house, without my permission?"

Rhoda was silent. If I didn't know her so well, I might've believed the man across from us wasn't her brother. Seven years wasn't much of a gap, but Aaron made it seem like a big deal.

His eyes slid to me, and I braced myself. "And you," he said, his tone growing darker, anger simmering beneath the surface. "Still following my sister around, I see."Ll

"I didn't know this was your house," I shot back, elbowing Rhoda. Now was not the time for her to stay fucking silent.

"No idea?" He cut me off, standing abruptly. His height was imposing, casting a shadow that made the room feel smaller. A shiver slid down my spine. "You expect me to believe this wasn't your idea?"

There we go.

I clenched my fists, the old anger I always felt around Aaron bubbling up again, stripping away whatever restraint I had left. "Maybe if you stopped being such a controlling bastard, we wouldn't be in this situation," I snapped, ignoring Rhoda's presence and the fact she could hear me going off on her 'precious' older brother.

Rhoda's eyes darted between us, wide with fear. She dreaded him, that much was clear.

Aaron took a step toward me, his gaze darkening further. Rhoda raised her hand, stepping forward.

"Aaron, stop-please," she begged, her voice pleading. "This was my idea. Don't take it out on her."

She stepped closer to him as I instinctively shifted back, but he ignored her, his eyes never leaving mine. I wasn't about to let him intimidate me. I wasn't backing down this time, no matter how hard his stare bore into me.

"You've always been trouble, Joan," he said, his voice chilling. "And now, here you are, in 'my' house," he bit out the words as if they burned on his tongue. I rolled my eyes, the anger in me surging higher.

I wanted to hurl every insult I could think of at him for treating me like trash all these years, but instead, I took a breath, carefully choosing my next words.

"You know what?" I said, meeting his glare head-on. "Fuck. You." I stepped forward until my ballet flats touched the tips of his pointed shoes. I raised my middle finger, thrusting it in his face before storming off toward the room where we'd stashed our bags.

There was no way I was letting Aaron ruin the one vacation I'd had in a year. I was going to enjoy my trip-without his godforsaken, insufferably handsome face hovering around.

I yanked my clothes out of the closet, shoving them into my bag with quick, angry movements. I didn't care that it was late, I would find a hotel, spend the night somewhere else, anywhere but here.

From the hallway, I heard Rhoda's muffled yells-she'd finally shaken off the shock, but I didn't care anymore.

"Aaron, don't you dare! You can't keep being a jackass to her every time she's around!"

Her voice grew closer, footsteps approaching as I zipped my bag shut, ready to leave. The door swung open, and there they were-Aaron standing tall, Rhoda behind him, looking exasperated.

Their gazes flicked to my packed bag, Rhoda's eyes softening, turning glossy.

"Jo..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

I looked at her, ignoring Aaron completely. "Just so you know," I said calmly, "your brother is an asshole. And yeah, I'll text you my address in the morning."

I stepped forward, waiting for them to move out of my way. Aaron's voice stopped me cold.

"You're not leaving at this time of night," he said, his tone not a request but an order. I stared at him, hoping the daggers in my eyes could pierce him to death.

It would hurt Rhoda... But it was worth the try.

"No," I said annoyed. "You don't get to dictate what I do."

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something darker crossing his face. "Try me, Joan. See if I won't drag you back here myself," he said, the quiet threat sending an unexpected warmth curling in my lower belly. Damn him.

"You're going to leave in the morning," he continued. "I'm not letting you storm off in anger and end up getting murdered somewhere, not like it would affect me. And besides..." He glanced at Rhoda. "We still need to talk."

He turned and left the room, leaving behind tension that buzzed in the air. I blinked at Rhoda, incredulous and stunned.

"Did he just threaten me?" I asked, blinking at her.

Rhoda stepped forward, throwing her arms around me. "I'm sorry, Jo," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I never meant for this to happen. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

I sighed, wrapping my arms around her. "It's not your fault," I murmured. No, all the blame lay squarely with Aaron and his brooding, dark-eyed, chiseled arrogance.

As much as I hated him, I couldn't deny that he was disgustingly handsome.

"Just stay for the night," Rhoda pleaded. "Please."

I sighed again, resigned. "Fine. I'll stay," I muttered. I wasn't staying because of Aaron's thinly veiled warning or the strange warmth that had accompanied his threat and the way heat had sparked in me.

I was staying because Rhoda asked me to.

Not because of Aaron. Definitely not because of him.

~Aaron~

I was an early riser... Or maybe that was the wrong word to use. I had insomnia, so sleeping was a problem.

Which explained why I was in the kitchen by 4 a.m., fully dressed in my usual outfit-a suit-brewing coffee. I walked into the sitting room, glancing at the windows. It was already dawn. The sky was glowing red, a warning of the day ahead.

Soon enough, the girls would be awake. Speaking of "girls"... I took a sip of my coffee before walking toward the window, staring down at the quiet city, save for a few cars and early risers moving like ghosts through the streets.

I'd had a business meeting in Barcelona, which explained why I was in Spain. I was supposed to be finishing up by the weekend and returning to New York on Monday. I should've been thinking about work, logistics, my schedule. But I wasn't.

No, I was thinking about what I'd come back to-my house invaded by my sister and her best friend.

Rhoda always had a streak of stubbornness in her, but it never flared into anything unmanageable. Until she met Joan. I had to give Joan credit for pulling Rhoda out of her grief after our parents died. But Joan didn't stop there. She had a way of encouraging the wild, reckless side of my sister, feeding it like gasoline to a flame.

And the fact that Joan hated me? Well, that was just a bonus. I overheard her once telling Rhoda that I always looked like I had a stick up my ass. She'd go out of her way to ignore me or start an argument-anything to get under my skin.

And damn if it didn't work.

I didn't even realize how long I'd been standing there, staring out at nothing, my coffee growing cold. A movement in the house snapped me back. My body tensed, instinctively alert.

The house was big enough for all of us to avoid each other, but I could sense her. Joan. I wasn't even looking, but I could feel her presence, the heat of her gaze boring into my back.

Closer, closer, until the room fell into that particular kind of silence that only she could create. I didn't turn around.

She didn't speak. She just moved past me, toward the fireplace, her movements slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world. I eventually turned and pinned her with a cool, assessing look.

Her ginger-red hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, strands escaping to frame her face. She closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the fire, her lashes dark against her pale skin. Those eyes, when they opened, were sharp and cunning-like a fox's.

I moved to the island that separated the kitchen from the dining area, annoyed at myself for noticing things about her I had no business noticing. The quiet between us was thick, tense.

She stood, her movements unhurried, and walked toward me. Our eyes met-green on black-before she quickly glanced away. My gaze followed her, against my better judgment, lingering on the way her sleep shirt clung to her body, the curve of her legs in those damn shorts that barely reached mid-thigh.

She looked good in the morning, like she always did. Too good.

"If you're done ogling me, move out of my way," she said, her voice flat, eyes narrowed in a scowl.

I raised the mug to my mouth, taking a sip of bitter, cold coffee, eyes still on her. "This is my house," I replied, matching her tone. "I can't be in your way."

Her scowl deepened, her eyes flashing with something sharper than anger. For anyone else, the look she gave me would have been enough to send them running. But not me.

She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as if daring me to back down. I didn't. She wasn't tall enough to reach my height, not even on her best day, but she didn't need height to hold her ground.

Fists clenched, lips flattened into a hard line, her whole body practically vibrating with the effort it took not to lash out. It didn't take much to rile her up, especially if it was coming from me.

She let out a sharp huff, her gaze slicing away from mine as she moved around the island, heading for the kitchen. I didn't turn to follow, but I knew exactly what she was doing.

Joan Madison wasn't a morning person without her coffee. In that way, at least, we were alike.

My sister, Rhoda, appeared a moment later, her chestnut hair a wild mess, her eyes heavy with sleep.

I knew both girls slept in the same room and on the same bed. Leaving me wondering why Joan looked like that and Rhoda -like this.

She mumbled a groggy, "Morning," as she brushed past me and stood next to Joan, who wordlessly handed her a mug.

Rhoda smiled, leaning into Joan's shoulder as she took a sip. The sight nearly made me roll my eyes.

Rhoda turned to me, noticing that I hadn't responded to her greeting. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she just stared at me for a beat too long.

"We're leaving today," she said, her voice quiet but firm. My stomach twisted into a knot at her words. Joan didn't even spare me a glance.

I checked my watch, taking a long stride toward the couch, my mind already racing. "Stay," I said, my tone flat, almost indifferent.

Rhoda's eyes widened in surprise, her sleepy expression disappearing as she processed what I'd said. "I'll be leaving by the weekend," I added, grabbing my suitcase.

I glanced at Joan, just long enough to catch her tense posture, before I turned back to Rhoda. She looked like she was caught between confusion and mild guilt, but Joan? Joan's expression didn't waver. If anything, she seemed more irritated.

Without another word, I headed for the door, suitcase in hand. I didn't trust Joan. Not even a little bit. And I sure as hell wasn't about to leave them here without keeping tabs on them.

I wasn't that foolish.