4. The Brother I Didn’t Expect

INDIGO

“You did what?” Mom stared at me from across the kitchen island, her coffee cup frozen halfway to her lips, eyes wide with disbelief.

I poked at the pancakes on my plate with zero enthusiasm, the syrup pooling uselessly around them. My appetite had disappeared the moment I stepped into my parents’ house on the outskirts of the city this weekend. “I got sent home for a week, Mom. On my very first official day. He called me out in front of the entire staff like I was some irresponsible teenager and told me not to come back until next Monday.”

Dad, who had been pretending to read the newspaper at the end of the table, finally lowered it. His brows furrowed in that protective way he always got whenever someone messed with his daughter. “That’s ridiculous. Did you at least get a chance to explain what happened? Traffic? Alarm issues? Anything?”

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh and pushed my plate away. “I tried. I opened my mouth and he cut me off before I could even finish saying his name. Just ‘Get out.’ In front of everyone. Like I was nothing. Like I didn’t matter.”

The humiliation still burned hot in my chest every time I replayed it. I hated Dario Cross with a fiery passion I didn’t know I was capable of. I hated his arrogant voice, his cold green eyes, the way he looked at me like he could see straight through my clothes and my lies at the same time.

I wished he would trip over his own ego and lose everything he’d built. I wanted someone to knock him off that impossible pedestal and make him feel even half as humiliated as I’d felt.

And yet… every single night I had woken up soaked, thighs clenched, fingers between my legs, dreaming about that same bastard leaning over me, whispering filthy things while his hand slid under my skirt.

I was a pathetic mess.

Leah had been blowing up my phone nonstop — calls, texts, worried voice notes asking if I was okay, if something happened at work, if I needed anything.

I ignored every single one. I couldn’t face her right now. Not when her fiancé had just publicly destroyed me on day one. The guilt of what I’d done in her hallway mixed with this new, burning hatred, and it all felt too messy to unpack.

Mom sighed deeply and reached over to squeeze my hand, her touch warm. “Maybe it was just a terrible first impression, honey. You’ve worked so hard for this opportunity. Don’t let one arrogant man ruin it for you. Sports media is your dream.”

“One rich, arrogant, engaged-to-my-cousin jerk,” I muttered under my breath, stabbing another piece of pancake.

Dad leaned back in his chair. “You want us to call someone? I still have a few contacts in the industry—”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I’ll handle it. I just… needed this weekend to breathe.”

I spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday trying to forget. I helped Mom in the garden, watched old hockey games with Dad, and tried — and failed miserably — not to check my phone every time it buzzed. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Dario’s face — first in that interview, then in the conference room, cold and cutting as he publicly shamed me.

My thoughts drifted back to that morning.

After storming out of the conference room with my face burning and my vision blurry from rage and embarrassment, I hadn’t been watching where I was going. I collided hard with someone just outside the door.

Hot coffee splashed across a white shirt and suit jacket.

“Shit—” I looked up, ready to snap at whoever it was, but the guy in front of me only blinked in surprise, then offered a small, sheepish smile.

He had dark hair, light green eyes behind stylish glasses, and a warm, gentle presence that felt completely out of place in that cutthroat building. He didn’t look angry — just mildly startled as he glanced down at the growing brown stain spreading across his shirt and jacket.

“Wow,” he said, already pulling napkins from his pocket like this kind of thing happened to him regularly. “That was a solid hit. You okay?”

My scowl deepened, the anger from Dario still boiling over. “I’m so sorry. I should be buying you a new suit. I completely ruined yours.”

He chuckled softly, dabbing at the stain without much success. “It’s fine. Really. You look like you’re having a much worse day than my shirt. Want to grab another coffee? My treat. Looks like we both need it.”

I hesitated, still vibrating with fury, but something about his calm energy made me nod. “Yeah… okay.”

Ten minutes later we were sitting in the small café on the ground floor of FanHub. He insisted on paying despite my protests.

“Do you work here? Or here for an interview? I’m so sorry about your shirt.”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t looking,” he said, sliding a fresh cup toward me. “I work here as a sports writer.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He smiled, a little sheepish. “I’m not that old, Ms…?”

“Indigo Derrin.” I chuckled dryly.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Ms. Derrin,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I suppose the job interview didn’t go your way?”

“Pft, I wish it was that,” I scoffed, the words pouring out before I could stop them. “My first day at work and I was sent home to ‘reflect’ for a whole week!! The guy who hired me — some arrogant prick named Dario Cross — called me out in the middle of the orientation meeting like I was a criminal. I ran from the bus stop, I was literally out of breath, and he still humiliated me in front of the entire staff. Who the hell does he think he is?

“Just because he owns the place and has money, he thinks he can treat people like garbage? I swear, if I didn’t need this job so badly, I would have told him exactly where he could shove his ‘no lateness’ policy. What a narcissistic, controlling asshole.”

Caleb listened patiently, nodding with sympathy, though I noticed a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah… that sounds like my brother when he’s in one of his moods,” he said carefully.

“He’s intense about punctuality and professionalism. But he’s not usually that brutal on someone’s first day. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

My eyes went wide. “B-brother?”

He chuckled and pushed his glasses up his nose. “It’s fine, I promise. I curse him out regularly too. He can be… a lot.”

We talked for almost twenty minutes. He was funny in a quiet, boyish way — charming, easy to be around, the complete opposite of his tyrannical brother. The conversation flowed so naturally that for a little while I almost forgot how furious I was.

When he finally stood up to leave, he gave me a kind, genuine smile.

“It was really nice meeting you, Indigo. I’ll see you next week. Try not to let him get to you too much. He’s not as bad as he seems… most days.”

I watched him walk away, still stunned by how different the two brothers were.

My mom’s gentle voice pulled me out of the memory. “You okay, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet. Is there something else bothering you?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “I’m fine. I just… really needed this time with you guys.”

Even as I said the words, my mind kept drifting.

To Dario’s cold, cutting dismissal in front of everyone, and the way my body still betrayed me every time I thought about him.

To Caleb’s warm, understanding smile and the small comfort of knowing at least one Cross wasn’t a complete monster.

Work was going to be absolute hell.