CHAPTER 2: Playing With Fire

Scarlett's POV

The house felt different when I woke up the next morning, bigger somehow, emptier despite knowing Cade was somewhere within these walls. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my room, casting geometric shadows across the plush carpet. Everything was expensive, curated, and perfect. Nothing like the lived-in chaos of my tiny Florence apartment.

I lay in bed longer than I should have, staring at the ceiling, listening. Footsteps in the hallway. Water running through pipes. The distant thud of a door closing. Signs of life in a house that was about to become a battleground.

Or a minefield.

I wasn't sure which was worse.

My phone buzzed. Mom's text came through with three heart emojis: At the airport! Flight boards in 20. Love you so much, sweetheart. Be good to each other!

Be good to each other.

If only she knew how impossible that command was.

I showered in the ensuite bathroom, all marble and rainfall showerheads, letting the water run hotter than necessary, trying to wash away the phantom feeling of Cade's body heat from yesterday. The way he'd caged me against the refrigerator without touching me. How his breath had ghosted across my lips. The torture of almost.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping down my back, I heard it: the rhythmic thud of music coming from somewhere below. Heavy bass. The kind that vibrated through your chest.

I followed the sound downstairs, curiosity overriding caution.

The music led me to a home gym I hadn't noticed during yesterday's tour, a converted garage space with mirrored walls, weight racks, and enough equipment to train a small army. And there, in the centre of it all, was Cade.

I froze in the doorway.

He was shirtless, wearing only gym shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips, doing pull-ups with a focus that bordered on meditative. His back was to me, a canvas of flexing muscle and ink. The phoenix tattoo I'd noticed yesterday spread across his shoulder blades in intricate detail, wings stretching with each pull-up, seeming to come alive with movement. Sweat gleamed on his skin, following the groove of his spine.

I should have left. I should have absolutely turned around and left.

Instead, I watched.

Each pull-up was controlled and powerful. His biceps bunched and released. The muscles in his back shifted under tattooed skin like something alive. A bead of sweat trailed down between his shoulder blades, and I had the insane urge to follow its path with my tongue.

Stop it, Scarlett. Stop it right now.

But I couldn't look away.

He caught my reflection in the mirror on his descent. Our eyes locked. He didn't stop, didn't miss a beat in his rhythm, and just kept pulling himself up and down while maintaining eye contact. The air thickened with challenge.

Two could play this game.

I leaned against the doorframe, deliberately casual, and crossed my arms under my breasts. The movement made my towel shift, riding up my thighs. I watched his gaze flicker down, then back up. His jaw tightened.

He did three more pull-ups, muscles straining, before dropping to the floor with cat-like grace. He grabbed a towel, not to cover up, I noticed, just to wipe his face. When he turned to face me fully, I had to work to keep my expression neutral.

His chest was a masterpiece. Defined pecs, abs that looked carved from stone, that perfect V-cut disappearing into his shorts. More tattoos wound around his ribs—text I couldn't read from here, geometric designs that drew the eye downward.

"Morning," he said, voice rough from exertion. Or maybe from something else.

"Morning." I kept my tone light and breezy. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not." He took a long drink from his water bottle, throat working, and I hated how attractive even that simple action was. "Parents get off okay?"

"Just boarded."

"Good." He set the water down and rolled his shoulders. The phoenix shifted and danced. "House rules while they're gone. You take the east wing; I take the west. There are two kitchens, the main one and the auxiliary. I'll use the main one, while you use the one in the breakfast nook. We coordinate schedules to avoid overlap."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you've given this a lot of thought."

"I have." His eyes were hard, determined. "We agreed last night. Distance."

"Right. Distance." I pushed off the doorframe and took a step into the room. His entire body went rigid. "Just one problem with your plan."

"What's that?"

"I don't follow rules well." Another step. The towel slipped fractionally lower on my chest. I caught it, adjusted it, and watched his eyes track the movement. "Never have."

"Scarlett." My name was a warning.

"Cade." I mocked his tone. "What? We're just talking. Siblings talk, right? That's what we're supposed to be now. Brother and sister are having a nice, normal conversation."

"There's nothing normal about this conversation."

"No?" I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Then maybe I should get dressed. Wouldn't want to make my dear stepbrother uncomfortable."

I turned to leave, putting extra sway in my hips. I made it two steps before his voice stopped me.

"You're playing a dangerous game."

I looked back over my shoulder. "Who says I'm playing?"

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You need to leave. Now."

"Why? Afraid you'll lose control?" I faced him fully again. "Afraid you'll do something you'll regret?"

"I'm afraid I'll do something we'll both regret." The confession was rough, raw. "I'm trying to be good here, Scarlett. Trying to do the right thing. Don't make this harder than it already is."

Something in his voice, the genuine struggle, made me soften slightly. "I'm not trying to make anything hard, Cade. I'm just... I don't know what I'm doing. I came home to surprise my mom and walked into a nightmare. Or a dream. I honestly can't tell the difference anymore."

"Join the club." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I need to finish my workout. And you need to... not be here. In a towel. Looking like that."

"Looking like what?"

"Like every fantasy I've tried to bury for five years."

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and dangerous.

"Cade..."

"Go, Scarlett. Please. Before I do something we can't take back."

This time, I listened. I left him standing in his gym, surrounded by weights and mirrors and the ghost of what we couldn't have.

But as I climbed the stairs back to my room, I couldn't help smiling.

So much for distance.