Craving the wrong brother: his obsession

~YVONNE POV~

The call went to voicemail. Again.

I stared at my phone, watching Arthur's name flash on the screen before it cut off. Fifth time today. Fifth time he ignored me.

I pressed redial anyway. Maybe this time— “You have reached Arthur Klein. Leave a message.”

I let out a shaky breath and forced a smile into my voice. Like that would make a difference.

"Hey, it's me. I know you are busy, but... it's our anniversary. I thought maybe we could go to Marcello's tonight? The Italian place where you first asked me to be your girlfriend? I already made a reservation for seven. Just... call me back, okay?"

I hung up before my voice could crack.

The cab driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. I looked away, hugging Arthur's dry cleaning tighter against my chest. The plastic rustled loudly in the silence.

Maybe he was home. Maybe he had something planned and that's why he wasn't answering. Maybe he wanted to surprise me. It was a stupid hope. But it was better than nothing.

"The Deluxe, please," I told the driver.

He nodded and pulled back into traffic.

The Deluxe was the kind of building that made you feel small just looking at it. All glass and fancy tiles and doormen in perfect suits. Arthur's penthouse sat at the very top…thirtieth floor, corner unit, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

My one-bedroom rental had a view of the dumpsters behind the Korean BBQ place. The doorman smiled when he saw me.

"Miss Yvonne. Good to see you again."

"Hi, Ottie." I smiled back, even though my stomach was twisting into knots.

He opened the door without asking questions. By now, the staff here knew me. Arthur brought me here most weekends, telling them we had work to finish and shouldn't be disturbed.

It was never work.

It was always the same. Arthur would pour himself whiskey. I would sit on the edge of the bed, nervous and trying too hard. He would pull me close, kiss me, tell me to relax. And then—And then I would mess it up.

Too stiff, too awkward, too boring. That's what he always said. ‘You're boring, Yvonne. Why can't you just let go?’

And I would spend the rest of the night crying into the pillow, whispering apologies he never answered. Promising I would do better next time.

Because I loved him.

Because losing him would mean losing the only good thing in my life.

The elevator ride to the thirtieth floor felt like it was taking forever. I checked my reflection in the mirrored walls. My hair was a mess from the wind. My lipstick had faded. I looked tired.

I always looked tired lately. The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. Arthur's penthouse was at the end of the hall. The door was unlocked.

My heart jumped. He was home.

"Arthur?" I called out softly, stepping inside.

No answer.

The apartment was dark. Curtains half-drawn. The smell of expensive cologne dangled in the air, mixed with something else. Perfume. definitely Not mine.

I froze.

The dry cleaning slipped from my hands and hit the floor with a soft noise. From down the hall, I heard it. A laugh. High-pitched. Breathless.

Holly's laugh.

No. No, no, no—My feet moved on their own, carrying me toward the master bedroom. The door was cracked open. Just a sliver of light spilling out into the hallway.

I should've turned around. I should've left, but I didn't. I foolishly looked, and I saw them.

Arthur. Shirtless. Hair messy. His hands tangled in Holly's blonde hair as she leaned over him, laughing, kissing his neck.

The bed. Our bed. The one where I spent so many nights apologizing for not being enough.

She wasn't apologizing. She looked like she belonged there. My hand flew to my mouth, muffling the sob that tried to claw its way out of my throat.

Arthur didn't notice. He was too busy pulling Holly closer, whispering something that made her giggle again. I took a step back. Then another, my shoulder hit the wall. The sound echoed. Arthur's head snapped toward the door.

Our eyes met. For one horrible second, neither of us moved.

Then I ran.

I couldn't breathe.

My chest felt like someone had wrapped a fist around my heart and was squeezing. Hard.

I stumbled down the hallway, one hand pressed against the wall to keep myself upright. My vision blurred. Everything looked like it was underwater.

Arthur and Holly.

In his bed. In our bed.

The image kept replaying in my head. His hands in her hair. Her laugh. The way he looked at her like she was everything.

Like I was nothing. My legs gave out halfway to the elevator. I hit the wall and slid down, gasping for air that wouldn't come. My hands clawed at my chest, trying to make the pain stop.

It didn't stop.

God, it hurts. It hurt so much.

How long has this been going on? How many times had he lied to me? How many times had he touched her the way he refused to touch me?

The elevator dinged.

I forced myself to stand. My legs shook. My whole body shook. I had to get out of here. I had to leave before—The elevator doors opened.

I didn't look. I just ran straight into someone. Hard. The crash knocked the air out of my lungs. I stumbled back, my hands flying up.

"I am sorry…I am so sorry…" My voice cracked. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "I am sorry, I didn't….I wasn't looking…I'm sorry…"

I couldn't stop apologizing. The words kept coming, over and over, like if I said them enough, something would stop hurting.

But nothing stopped hurting. My knees buckled. I hit the floor, and the sobs I had been holding back finally broke free. I buried my face in my hands and cried. Right there in the hallway. In front of a stranger.

I didn't care anymore.

Someone knelt in front of me.

A hand reached out. Fingers gripped my chin…firm but not rough…and tilted my face up. I blinked through my tears.

Green eyes. Sharp. Intense. The kind of green that looked like they could see straight through you.

He was beautiful. Like, stupidly beautiful. Dark hair, perfect jawline, the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover or in some luxury cologne ad.

An angel.

That's what he looked like. An angel kneeling in front of a mess like me. His thumb brushed my chin, almost absent-minded, as he studied my face.

His face was unreadable. Cold, maybe. Or just... detached.

Like he didn't care that I was falling apart in front of him. He opened his mouth to say something…..

"Get your hand off her."

The voice came from behind me.

Arthur's voice.

My whole body went stiff. I turned my head, following the stranger's gaze. Arthur stood at the end of the hallway, breathing hard. His shirt was buttoned wrong.

His hair was still a mess. He looked like he'd thrown himself together in ten seconds and ran after me. His eyes locked on the stranger's hand still holding my chin.

And his face twisted. Angry. Possessive. Like he had any right to look at me like that. "I said get your hand off her," Arthur repeated, his voice low and strong.

The stranger didn't move.

He didn't even blink. He just kept looking at Arthur with those cold green eyes, his thumb still resting against my jaw. And then, slowly…so slowly it felt deliberate…he smiled.

Not a nice smile. A dangerous one.

"Or what?"

  ~YVONNE POV~

I got off the floor.

My legs felt like they were made of water, but I forced them to hold me up. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, smearing tears and snot across my cheek.

Pathetic. I was so pathetic, but I didn't move toward Arthur, I couldn't, not yet. Every time I blinked, I saw them. Arthur's hands in Holly's hair. Her lips on his neck. The way he looked at her.

My fists clenched at my sides.

The stranger stood behind me, so close, I could feel the heat of him at my back, reliable and steady. Like a wall I could lean against if I wanted to but I didn't lean.

Arthur's eyes flicked from me to the stranger, then back to me. His jaw tightened.

"Who is he?" Arthur asked. His voice was strong, controlled, like he was the one who had the right to ask questions right now. I almost laughed, almost.

"That's what you want to ask me?" My voice came out rough. Broken. "That's what you want to talk about right now?"