The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 99 - ninety nine

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Alicia’s POV

"I’m not jealous," I said through gritted teeth. "Let me go."

"Yes, you are." Malachi’s voice was dark. Almost amused. "I can see it in your eyes. In the way you wouldn’t look at me during dinner. In the way your hands shook when Cecilia touched me." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"You’re delusional."

"Am I?" He leaned closer, his breath warm against my face. His body pressed against mine in a way that made thinking difficult. "Then why are you so angry right now?"

"Because you’re trapping me in a dark room!" I pushed against his chest but he didn’t move. He was solid. Unmovable. "Because you’re my brother-in-law and this is completely inappropriate. Because everything about this is wrong!"

"Wrong," he repeated, like the word amused him. "Now you care about wrong? About appropriate?"

"Yes! This is taboo. This is—"

"Since when do you care about taboo?" His eyes blazed with something dangerous. Something that made my stomach flip. "You didn’t care about that when I fucked you. When you screamed my name. When you begged me for more."

Heat flooded my face. "Don’t—"

"You didn’t care about taboo when you kissed me in that photo booth. When you held my hand at the park. When you wore my necklace to your anniversary party like a brand." His hand moved to my throat, touching the necklace still there. "But now, suddenly, you care about appropriate?"

Each word was like a knife. Because he was right. I hadn’t cared about any of that. Hadn’t thought about right or wrong or appropriate when I was with him.

But that was before. Before everything became complicated. Before Cecilia walked into the dining room on his arm.

"We should avoid each other now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "This whole thing has gotten too dangerous. Too complicated."

"Avoid each other?" He laughed. The sound was bitter. "We work together now. We live in the same house. We’re going on a family trip together. How exactly do you propose we avoid each other?"

"We just do. We keep it professional. Distant. We stop..." I gestured between us. "This. Whatever this is."

"Can’t do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m in love with her." The words came out casual. Easy. Like they didn’t just destroy me from the inside out. "Cecilia and I, we have history. Real history. And now we’re trying again."

I felt like I’d been punched. Love. He said love. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.

"Then why are you in here with me?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "Why aren’t you out there with her?"

"Because you ran away. And we have business to discuss. Remember? You’re head of family affairs now. I’m COO. We have responsibilities."

Business. He was talking about business like he hadn’t just told me he was in love with someone else.

"Fine. What business?" I tried to put steel in my voice. Tried to act like I wasn’t crumbling.

"The trip to the Maldives. We need to coordinate. Make sure everything runs smoothly." His hand was still on my throat. Still touching the necklace. "Cecilia will be coming with us."

The words were another blow. She was coming. To the Maldives. For two weeks of forced family togetherness where I’d have to watch them together.

"Why would she come on a family trip?"

"Because she’s my girlfriend. Soon to be more if things go well." He smiled. That dark smile that used to make my heart race. Now it just made me hurt. "Pa Wood already invited her. Said it would be good to include her. Get to know her better."

I wanted to scream. Wanted to hit him. Wanted to do something other than stand here and take this.

"You’re enjoying this," I said quietly. "Watching me hurt. Watching me struggle."

"Should I not enjoy being happy? Being with someone who actually wants to be with me publicly?" His thumb brushed across my jaw. "Someone who isn’t ashamed of me. Who doesn’t want to hide what we have."

"I never said I was ashamed—"

"You wanted to avoid me. To stop this. That sounds like shame to me." His eyes were hard now. Cold. "Maybe Cecilia is exactly what I need. Someone who isn’t afraid. Who isn’t constantly looking over her shoulder worrying about what people think."

The words cut deep. Deeper than they should have. Because there was truth in them. I was scared. Scared of being caught. Scared of being exposed. Scared of the anonymous threats and what they might do next.

But I couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t explain about the text messages without revealing I’d kept them secret. That I’d been too scared to tell him immediately.

"If that’s what you want, then fine," I said, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "Be with her. Be happy. I don’t care."

"You’re lying again." He leaned closer. "You care very much. That’s why you’re so angry. That’s why you can barely look at me."

"I can look at you just fine."

"Then do it. Look at me and tell me you don’t care that I’m with her."

I forced myself to meet his eyes. Those dark, intense eyes that had always seen too much. That could read me better than anyone.

"I don’t care," I said.

"Liar." His hand tightened slightly on my throat. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make a point. "Your pulse is racing. Your breathing is shallow. You’re on the edge of breaking."

"Let me go."

"Not until you admit the truth."

"What truth? That I’m jealous? Fine! Yes! I’m jealous!" The words exploded out of me before I could stop them. "Is that what you want to hear? That watching you with her made me want to throw something? That hearing you call her your girlfriend made me feel sick? That the thought of you touching her the way you touched me makes me want to scream?"

His smile widened. Triumphant. Like he’d won some game I didn’t know we were playing.

"There it is. The truth."

"Are you happy now? You got your confession. You proved I’m pathetic and jealous and—"

"You’re not pathetic." His voice softened slightly. "You’re honest. Finally."

"What does it matter? You made your choice. You have Cecilia. You love her. You said so yourself."

Something flickered in his eyes. Something I couldn’t quite read. But it was gone before I could understand it.

"Maybe I did make my choice," he said. "Maybe Cecilia is exactly what I need right now."

Each word was like glass in my chest. Sharp. Cutting. Making it hard to breathe.

"Then why are you still standing here with me? Why aren’t you with her?"

"Because you need to understand something." He pulled me closer. "Just because I’m with her doesn’t mean you get to move on. Doesn’t mean you get to forget about us."

"That doesn’t make sense. You can’t have it both ways."

"Can’t I?" His hand moved from my throat to my hair. Tangling in the silver strands. "You’re still mine, Alicia. Girlfriend or not. You’ll always be mine."

"That’s not fair."

"Nothing about this is fair. But that’s the reality." He pulled my head back slightly. "You can be jealous. You can be angry. But you can’t move on. You can’t forget."

"You’re insane."

"Only about you."

"You just told me you’re in love with Cecilia!"

"And? Love and possession aren’t the same thing." His eyes were dark. Dangerous. "I can love her and still own you."

The words should have made me furious. Should have made me slap him and storm out.

But they didn’t. They made something dark and twisted inside me respond. Made me understand that maybe I was just as insane as he was.

"This is wrong," I whispered. "All of this is wrong."

"So you keep saying. And yet you’re still here. Still pressed against me. Still breathing like you want me to kiss you."

"I don’t—"

He kissed me. Hard. Demanding. Possessive.

And I kissed him back. Because I was weak. Because I was stupid. Because even knowing he’d just told me he loved someone else, I couldn’t resist him.

But then reality crashed back in. The text messages. The threats. The danger of someone watching.

And Cecilia. Out there in the mansion. His girlfriend. The woman he said he loved.

I bit down on his lip. Hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to draw blood.

He pulled back with a curse. Hand going to his mouth.

I used the moment to slip away from him. To run for the door.

"Alicia—"

I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Just ran.

Down the hallway. Up the stairs. To my room. My sanctuary. My escape.

I burst through the door and slammed it shut behind me. Locked it. Pressed my back against it and tried to catch my breath.

My heart was racing. My lips still tingling from his kiss. My mind spinning with everything that had just happened.

He loved Cecilia. He’d said it. Casually. Like it was just a fact.

But he’d also said I was still his. That I’d always be his.

I didn’t understand. Didn’t understand how both could be true. Didn’t understand what game he was playing.

I pushed off the door and moved further into the room. That’s when I noticed Travis.

He was passed out on the bed. Completely wasted. Bottles scattered on the floor around him.

In his hand, clutched like a lifeline, was a small passport.

I moved closer. Looked at what he was holding.

It was an old passport. Worn. The photo inside showed a young woman. Beautiful. Dark hair. Bright smile.

Emily Cartwright.

Her name was printed clearly below the photo. And the date showed it was from years ago. Before she died.

I felt irritation flare up. This woman was everywhere. In Pa Wood’s study. In Travis’s safe. In his drunk, desperate hands. In whatever investigation Malachi was conducting.

Emily. Emily. Always Emily.

Like she still had power over this family even from the grave.

I wanted to rip the passport from Travis’s hands. To throw it away. To make her disappear.

But I didn’t. Just stood there staring at her smiling face. Wondering what was so special about her. What made her so unforgettable.

My tongue felt weird. I touched my lips and my fingers came away with blood.

Malachi’s blood. From when I’d bitten him.

The taste was metallic. Wrong. A reminder of what I’d just done. Of the line I’d crossed. Again.

I went to the bathroom. Turned on the faucet and rinsed my mouth. Watched the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain.

Watched Malachi’s blood disappear.

If only everything else could disappear as easily. The jealousy. The hurt. The confusion. The fear.

The feeling that I was drowning in something I couldn’t escape.

I looked at myself in the mirror. At my swollen lips. My messy hair. My too-bright eyes that threatened tears.

I looked like exactly what I was. A woman caught between impossible choices. Between a husband who loved a dead woman and a brother-in-law who claimed to love someone else but said I was still his.

Between anonymous threats and family scandals and secrets I didn’t understand.

I was trapped. In this house. In this life. In this situation with no good way out.

And in two days, we’d all be on a plane to the Maldives. Two weeks of forced togetherness. Two weeks of watching Malachi with Cecilia. Two weeks of whatever the anonymous account had promised was coming.

I turned off the water and dried my hands. Walked back into the bedroom where Travis was still passed out clutching Emily’s passport.

I climbed into bed on my side. As far from him as possible. Stared at the ceiling in the darkness.

And for the first time since arriving at the Blackwood mansion three years ago, I let myself cry. Really cry. Silent tears that soaked into my pillow.

For everything I’d lost. Everything I’d never had. Everything I’d foolishly thought I might have with Malachi.

For the girl I used to be who’d hoped for better. Who’d thought maybe, just maybe, she could find happiness.

That girl was gone now. Drowned in Blackwood drama and impossible situations.

And I didn’t know if I’d ever get her back.