Stuck With The Devil’s Brothers

Purgatory.

That was what this place was to me.

I hadn't understood it yet. My father’s so-called banishment for circumstances that really were, quite frankly, unavoidable.

How exactly was I to know that the spoiled bastard I kicked in the groin was the son of the biggest suppliers of building materials in the continent?

Next thing I know I'm on a private jet to middle-of-nowhere Davenport, Iowa, surrounded by snobs who would rather bond with their phones over actual human beings.

The last straw, he said. We’ll excuse me if I’m not wired to be a non-thinking heiress who only does exactly what daddy says.

I sighed, taking a huge breath as my body leaned over the railing of my house. The moonlight shone over the hedges between our houses, making everything seem… less noisy.

The air out here was nice at least, cleaner than that city poison I'd been used to. The view was better too.

I couldn’t help the giddy smile that crept up my lips as I watched from the bottom of my glass.

Caleb Fraiser.

Hot tech billionaire and philanthropist.

And my very private, very unaware neighbor.

Broad shoulders, a stance that made him tower every person in a room. Or maybe that was just the air around him. A quiet authority.

I'm pretty sure I've only heard a total of ten words in the three months that I've been here. That, unfortunately, only made him seem more mysterious. And I loved a good mystery.

I might not usually concern myself with New York's finest elites, this particular man had my skin sizzling with thoughts I'd rather not say out loud.

And just like he could hear my thoughts, his head snapped. Right. To. Me.

My lungs forgot how to function and apparently so did my brain because why the hell wasn't I running for cover?

His brows furrowed and I couldn't tell if that was confusion or annoyance. Either way, it wasn't any less embarrassing.

Blood rushed up my neck.

Move!

It was futile. No matter how much I commanded my body, it wouldn't obey. So here I was, on my balcony, caught red-handed watching my neighbor like some kind of criminal.

People have gone to jail for less.

I forced my throat to work. “Sorry.” I called out. “This isn't what it looks like.”

Caleb straightened, his frown growing deeper by the second.

Shit.

“Seriously,” I tried again, hating the way my voice went up an octave. “I-”

He moved swiftly, taking long strides to his window and tugging his curtains shut.

I blinked, then scoffed.

“Rude.” I muttered.

Turning on my heel, I mind-captured the view before it could slip away. By the time I got downstairs, Caleb's cold stare was long forgotten.

I dropped my glass with a small clink, popping open another bottle.

The steady plop of champagne pouring into the glass was the only sound that filled the silence.

“He should be grateful I was staring at him.” I whispered to myself, then scoffed as my mind conjured the image of him scowling at me like a rabid dog.

My phone dinged, snapping my rage into two.

I fished it from my pocket, then froze as I stared at the screen.

From an Unknown Number.

I'd appreciate it if you stopped stalking me. Have some self respect.

I blinked. Heat rose from my neck. Then like my phone was poisoned, I tossed it on the island and my hands flew to cover my mouth.

My pulse wouldn't stop pounding.

What the hell?

How did he get my number?

I frowned.

Did I give it to him?

I shook my head so fast, it rang. He'd never been nice enough to hold a conversation, not even a greeting.

Wait.

My hands dropped.

Did he just call me desperate?

Rage slowly crawled up my spine.

Have I been watching him every night through my balcony since the day I got here? Probably.

But that didn't make me desperate.

Maybe slightly, observant, but nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't know me. He didn't know a thing about me.

“Who does he even think he is?” I snapped, already pacing. “He's calling me desperate? Yet he's the one stealing phone numbers with his- creepy tech crap!”

Wait.

My head snapped up, scanning my kitchen. “What else did he do?”

Wires? I gasped. Cameras?

A shiver crawled up my spine. But it wasn't fear. Noooooo. It was far from that. The thought of him watching me… observing me the same way I had been watching him…

I shook my head.

Stop it.

This was serious. And I was going to confront him because unlike Caleb, I wasn't scared of a conversation.

The buzz of wine in my system, courtesy of drinking since sunset, gave me all the courage I needed to follow through.

I grabbed my jacket, wrapping it tightly over my nightdress, and marched out of my house.

The closer I got, the deeper the air dropped, like a freaking- vampire had laid its nest in the middle of Caleb Fraiser's house.

My steps only faltered for half a second before I hugged my jacket tighter and punched the doorbell.