Mag-log in“My brother is off-limits. And you’re really not the type to break promises.” Those were the words Sienna gave me the day I moved in. But she didn’t know how hard it would be when I walked into the house to find her older brother, Zayne Bellandi, dark, dangerous, and annoyingly attractive, waiting for me. Not just in my new home… but in every corner of my life. And let’s not forget how my last relationship ended: watching the guy I thought I loved marry someone else. But here I am, falling into the one thing I promised I’d never touch.
view moreIsla’s POV I woke up reaching for my phone.It was instinct, muscle memory more than thought—my hand sliding across the sheets before my eyes were even open. The space beside me was still warm, the mattress dipped where Zayne had been, but my phone wasn’t there. That alone snapped me fully awake.I pushed myself upright, hair falling into my face, heart thudding for no reason I could immediately name.The last message I’d sent Sienna still hadn’t been replied to. I knew that because I’d checked it obsessively yesterday morning before stepping out. Something about the silence felt wrong now, heavier this morning.I swung my legs off the bed and stood. I didn’t bother looking for clothes.The apartment was quiet in that early-morning way that felt private, insulated from the rest of the world. Sunlight filtered in through the tall windows, pale and soft, catching dust in the air. I followed the faint sound of movement toward the kitchen.Zayne was there.Shirtless. Barefoot. Standing a
Zayne’s POV I wake up to heat.Isla is pressed against me, bare and warm, her body fitted to mine like she was made to be here. Her breathing is slow, deep. Completely out.Her chest rises and falls softly, and every time she shifts—even just a fraction—her nipple brushes mine in a way that makes sleep impossible.I don’t move, I just watch her.Morning light filters in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning her skin golden. Her lashes rest against her cheeks, her mouth slightly parted like she’s dreaming of something good. There’s a crease between her brows that wasn’t there before she fell asleep—something leftover from the night, from fear, from adrenaline.I reach out without thinking, thumb tracing that crease until it smooths out. She relaxes instantly. That does something ugly and permanent inside my chest.I’ve watched her sleep before—once, twice, more than I’ll ever admit—but this is different. This is knowing exactly how she breathes when she feels safe. This is see
Isla’s POVWhen he says come here, my body moves before my mind does. It’s not obedience, It’s instinct.Heat spreads through me like a slow spill of liquor—warm, reckless, and impossible to stop once it starts. My feet carry me toward him, but I don’t rush. I let my hips sway just enough to be intentional, to let him see that I’m choosing this. That I’m not being pulled.Zayne watches me like a predator who already knows the hunt is over. His eyes don’t roam, they lock on mine.The moment I step into his space, the air thickens. His hand comes to my waist, not grabbing, not gentle either, just firm enough to remind me exactly where I am. Exactly who I’m standing in front of.“Slow,” he murmurs. I smile despite myself. I lift my hands and rest them against his chest, feeling the solid heat beneath the thin fabric of his hospital shirt. My fingers drag lightly, teasing, tracing nothing and everything all at once.“You’re the one who told me to come,” I say softly.His jaw tightens. “
Zayne’s POVI must’ve heard wrong.That was the only explanation my mind could offer, a misfire, a distortion, the echo of exhaustion blending into something it wasn’t. Because there was no way in this universe where Isla Hart stood in my apartment, still shaking from nearly being hunted down, and calmly said she’d already booked a flight home.“Say that again,” I tell her.My voice doesn’t rise. It drops, flat and controlled. Dangerous in its calm. She doesn’t look at me.“I already booked a flight back,” she says again, softer this time. Like she’s testing the words against the air. Like she regrets them the second they left her mouth.My jaw tightens.“We’re all leaving with the private jet by the weekend,” I say. “After Sienna’s final wedding party.”Silence follows. Not defensive or confrontational. Just… still. That’s worse. I watch her closely now, because this is the moment where people usually lie. Or cry. Or lash out.Isla does none of that. Instead, her eyes drift slowly, d











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