All Chapters of My Brother's Bestfriend turns me on : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I walked into the dining room with my stomach in knots. The long table was already set with fresh fruit and strong black coffee. Dante sat at the head, scrolling through his phone while talking shipments. Marco leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, listening quietly like he always had. Killian stood near them in his tailored black suit, pointing at something on a tablet. His voice was low and steady as he discussed routes and security details. None of them looked up right away. I slid into my usual seat across from where Killian sits, keeping my movements calm even though my heart raced. The high collar of my blouse hid the faint marks from last night. My jeans felt too tight against skin that still remembered his hands. “Morning,” I said quietly, reaching for the coffee pot. Dante glanced up first and gave a short nod. “You look better than I expected after last night. Enzo said you screamed the house down this morning.” “Just a nightmare,” I muttered, pouring the coffee.

I waited until the dining room emptied before I moved. My blood was still boiling from Father’s announcement and Killian’s icy silence. I slipped out and spotted him heading down the long hallway toward the security office, his broad back was stiff in that black suit. “Killian,” I called sharply. He didn’t stop. I hurried after him, heels clicking on the marble floor. When he turned a corner, I caught his arm and yanked him into a small side hallway near the library. It was quieter here, away from the main traffic. I pushed him against the wall, standing close enough that our bodies nearly touched. He looked down at me, grey eyes flat. “Miss Vance.” “Don’t you dare call me that,” I hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “After last night? After you dragged me into that booth, fingered me until I screamed your name, and carried me home? You sit at breakfast acting like I’m a stranger. You snap a pen when Father talks about marrying me off, but you say nothing. Why?” Killian’s ja

The days after I started my torment campaign blurred into a mix of sweet revenge and aching frustration. Killian avoided being alone with me, but I made sure he couldn’t escape my presence. He suffered through every family meeting and dinner with that throbbing vein in his neck and a cock that stayed half hard under his suit. I loved watching him fight it. But the real test came on Wednesday afternoon. We were in the main study. Dante stood by the window, barking orders about the upcoming high society gala hosted by one of our allied families. It was a big event that will be filled with powerful people, deals dressed up as small talk, and plenty of eyes watching the Vance family. I sat on the edge of the desk in a tight white blouse that was basically see through in the sunlight and a black skirt so short it barely covered my ass when I moved. “Killian, you’re on Alessia duty for the gala,” Dante said without looking up from his phone. “Escort her there, stay close all night, bring

The gala lights faded behind us as Killian drove the black SUV away from the venue. The city streets blurred past, but the tension inside the car was thicker than the silence. I sat in the passenger seat, legs crossed so the high slit in my emerald dress fell open, showing plenty of thigh. My body still tingled from the night. The dancing, flirting, and most of all, watching Killian unravel every time Lorenzo touched me. I turned to look at him. His knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel. His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Those grey eyes I'm in love with, stayed fixed on the road but I could feel the anger he was trying to hide. “Lorenzo Valenti is quite charming, don’t you think?” I said sweetly, trailing my fingers along the edge of my dress. “The way he held me during that dance…such strong hands. Knows exactly what he wants. And he wasn’t afraid to show it. Maybe Father’s right about that alliance. He could be good for me.” Killian’s foot pressed harder on

Giving Killian the cold shoulder had made things tense. I kept my distance, smiling at the other guards, laughing a little too loudly in the halls, and acting like he was just another shadow on the wall. Every time he entered a room, I turned away. Every time he tried to speak to me, I answered someone else. It was working. He was unraveling. I saw it in the way his reports got shorter, the way he snapped at minor mistakes, the way his eyes followed me with barely hidden hunger and rage. But the game was starting to hurt me too. I missed his touch. I missed the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. Late at night, alone in my bed, I touched myself thinking about his fingers that were inside me. The relief never lasted long and the ache only grew. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The mansion was quiet except for the distant sound of guards changing shifts. I slipped on a thin robe over my silk nightdress and stepped out onto the balcony of my room. The cool night a