Caught In The Middle

~Cassidy~

The echo of the crystal glass slamming against the solid wooden coffee table died, leaving behind a suffocating, heavy silence. It swallowed the grand living room whole. The three of us stood paralyzed, locked in a tense tableau. I could hear my own pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against my eardrums. I waited for someone to move. I waited for someone to speak. Neither happened.

Rosalind had insisted, time and time again during our flight and train rides, that Sterling did not possess a single clue we were in Spain. She swore up and down that he was tied up with meetings in a different country, oblivious to our little getaway. That assurance meant nothing now. It did nothing to soften the harsh, unforgiving expression etched into the chiseled lines of his face. His jaw was set in granite. His dark eyes flicked between his sister and me, dissecting us under a microscopic glare.

He did not look surprised. He did not look startled by our sudden intrusion into the dark foyer. He stood in the dim light of the solitary floor lamp, radiating a predatory stillness that made the air in the room feel thick and unbreathable.

"Rosalind."

His voice sliced right through the thick tension. It was low. It was chillingly cold. It carried the effortless, commanding weight of a man who expected immediate compliance the second he opened his mouth.

"Care to explain what you are doing in my house, without my permission?"

Rosalind remained frozen in place. The color had abandoned her face long ago. She looked small, visibly shrinking under the sheer weight of her older brother's oppressive aura. If I did not know their family history, I would have thought the man towering across the living room was a stranger holding her at gunpoint. Seven years separated them, but Sterling always wielded that age gap like a weapon. He made every single interaction feel like a life-or-death interrogation.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, staring at the floorboards near his expensive leather shoes.

Finding no answers from his trembling sister, Sterling shifted his focus. His dark gaze crawled up from Rosalind and settled directly onto me. I braced my spine. I knew exactly what was coming.

The temperature in the room seemed to plummet another ten degrees. His tone grew noticeably colder, edged with a mocking drawl that grated against my every nerve.

"And you," he observed, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. "Still following my sister around, I see."

A hot, defensive flare of annoyance erupted deep inside my chest. It scorched a path straight up my throat. He always did this. He always looked at me like I was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, a nuisance he could not wait to scrape off. I refused to cower. I refused to shrink the way Rosalind did.

"Okay. Before you jump to your usual wrong conclusions," I shot back firmly, lifting my chin to meet his dead-eyed stare. "I had no idea this property belonged to you."

I nudged Rosalind hard in the ribs with my elbow. This was not the time for her to play the silent victim. She needed to speak up and claim her own plan.

She merely flinched, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

Sterling stepped away from the coffee table. His tall frame dominated the space. "No idea?" he repeated. He did not bother hiding the dripping sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe this entire trespassing scheme wasn't your brilliant idea?"

My hands curled into tight fists at my sides. The sheer arrogance of the man was suffocating. I drew in a sharp breath through my nose, forcing myself to hold my ground.

"Like I said," I enunciated every single syllable, "I had no idea this house belonged to you until we walked through that door."

"Then whose idea was it?" he demanded, his gaze remaining locked on my face. He did not even look at his sister. He wanted me to take the fall. He expected me to take the fall.

I waited another agonizing second for Rosalind to find her spine. The silence stretched. She refused to step up. She refused to explain.

Fine. If she wanted to play the coward, I would push the envelope myself. I was not going to stand here and absorb his misplaced wrath for a vacation I thought we had rented legally.

"Maybe if you weren't such an insufferably controlling bastard, your own sister would actually feel comfortable telling you when she intended to use your house," I declared boldly, my voice ringing clear and loud across the sprawling room.

The words landed like a lit match in a pool of gasoline.

Sterling’s posture shifted. The mocking indifference vanished from his features, replaced by something dark and incredibly dangerous. He took a slow, deliberate step toward me. The predatory grace in his movement sent a primal warning bell ringing in my skull. His eyes deepened into endless voids, promising severe consequences for my biting tongue.

That sudden, threatening movement finally snapped Rosalind out of her trance.

"Sterling, stop—please," she gasped out. She scrambled forward, physically stepping between the two of us. She held up her hands, trying to absorb the blame and shield me from his line of sight. "She's right. This was my idea. I brought her here. Do not take it out on her."

Sterling did not spare his sister a single glance. He looked right over her shoulder. His chilling, laser-focused attention remained fixed on my face.

"You have always been nothing but trouble," he stated coldly. The gravel in his voice scraped against the silent walls. "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you. Just trouble."

My blood boiled. I refused to let his arrogant, insufferably handsome face ruin this trip. I had worked too many exhausting shifts back home to earn this vacation, and I was not about to spend it walking on eggshells around a toxic tyrant.

I sidestepped Rosalind. I boldly stepped forward, closing the distance between us until I stood mere feet from his chest. I tilted my head back, meeting his deadly glare head-on. I let all the built-up venom and frustration of the past few years bleed into my expression.

"Fuck. You," I spat.

I thrust my middle finger directly into his face, leaving it hovering right between his eyes for a satisfying second.

Before he could react, I spun on my heel. I marched away from the living room, my footsteps stomping hard against the expensive hardwood floor. I headed straight down the hallway toward the guest bedroom where we had dumped our luggage.

I had a singular purpose. I needed to pack my bags immediately. I did not care how late into the night it was. I did not care that we were in a foreign city and I had no idea where the nearest taxi stand was. I was determined to find a hotel anywhere else on this continent just to escape his suffocating presence.

I pushed the heavy oak door of the bedroom open and marched straight to the open closet. I grabbed my clothes by the handful. I shoved them haphazardly into my travel bag. I did not bother folding a single item. I just needed to get my things and get out. The zipper protested as I yanked it around the corners of the canvas duffel.

From the confines of the dimly lit hallway, I heard the muffled sounds of an argument breaking out. Rosalind had finally snapped out of her passive submission.

"Sterling, don't you dare go after her!" her voice echoed, shrill and frantic. "You cannot keep acting like a massive jackass toward her every single time she is around! It is not fair!"

I ignored the noise. I slung the heavy strap of my bag over my shoulder and turned toward the exit.

Moments later, the bedroom door swung open all the way, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

The two siblings stood side-by-side in the doorway, blocking my only path of escape. Their eyes immediately fell onto my fully zipped travel bag, then traveled up to my face. Rosalind looked flushed, her chest heaving with exertion and unshed tears making her eyes glassy. Sterling looked like an immovable stone wall, his broad shoulders filling up the doorframe.

Maintaining my composure, I adjusted the strap on my shoulder. I looked directly at Rosalind. I treated Sterling like a piece of ugly furniture, ignoring his towering presence entirely.

"Just so you know," I informed her calmly, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline shaking my hands. "Your brother is an absolute asshole."

A tear slipped down Rosalind's cheek, but she did not argue with my assessment.

"I will text you my new hotel address first thing in the morning," I promised softly. "We can figure out the rest of the trip then."

I stepped forward, expecting them to part and let me pass.

Sterling did not move a single muscle. His deep, authoritative voice physically stopped me in my tracks.

"You are not leaving this house at this hour of the night."

It was not a request. It was an order, delivered with absolute finality. The kind of command a king gave to a peasant, expecting immediate, unquestioning obedience.

I whipped my head around and glared at him. My vision swam with pure defiance. The daggers in my eyes should have left him bleeding on the floor.

"No," I told him flatly. I tightened my grip on my bag. "You do not get to dictate a single thing I do. You are not my boss. You are not my family. You are nothing to me."

His jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek feathered. A dark, dangerous flicker crossed his hardened features, shifting his expression from cold indifference to active menace.

He took a slow step into the bedroom, invading my personal space. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the sharp bite of whiskey hit my senses, overwhelming and intoxicating. He looked down at me, dropping his voice into a gravelly, lethal warning.

"Try me, Cassidy."

The words vibrated in the quiet room.

"See if I won't drag you back here myself," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes. "And trust me. It isn't something you'd enjoy."

The visceral, dark threat hung heavy in the air between us. It was a promise of physical force, a vow to overpower my will with his own.

I expected terror. I expected my fight-or-flight instincts to scream at me to run faster, to shove past him and flee into the dark Spanish streets.

Instead, the threat sparked something entirely different.

A deeply frustrating, pooling warmth curled low in my belly. It bloomed suddenly and violently, spreading a heavy, throbbing heat through my veins. The sheer dominance rolling off his broad chest triggered a raw, unexpected pulse of arousal that left my knees feeling weak. My breath hitched in my throat, betraying my internal panic.

I cursed him internally. I cursed my own body for this traitorous reaction. I hated him. I despised everything he stood for. How could my biology respond to his bullying with a twisted rush of desire?

I dug my nails into the palm of my free hand, using the sharp pain to anchor my chaotic thoughts. I forced my chin up, refusing to let him see the confusing flush creeping up my neck.

Sterling held my stare for one more agonizing second, analyzing the defiant set of my shoulders. Then, abruptly, he broke the tension.

He straightened up, smoothing the front of his dark shirt. He retreated back into the hallway, his face returning to a mask of cold indifference.

"You will leave in the morning," he declared flatly, addressing the wall more than me. "I am not letting you storm off in anger and end up murdered in the dark streets. I do not need that kind of paperwork ruining my week."

He shot a brief, icy glance toward his sister. "Besides. We still have things to discuss."

Without waiting for a response, without offering another glance in my direction, he turned his broad back and walked away. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the sprawling depths of the silent house.

Stunned by the intense exchange and the lingering heat pooling in my center, I simply blinked. The doorway felt empty, yet the air still hummed with his toxic energy.

Rosalind did not waste a second. The moment her brother was out of sight, she rushed forward. She threw her arms around my neck, pulling me into a desperate, clinging hug.

"I am so sorry, Cass," she whispered, her voice breaking with genuine emotion. A sob tore through her throat, muffled against my shoulder. "I never meant for this to happen. I swear. I thought he was in London. I am so sorry for dragging you into this miserable mess."

I stood stiffly for a moment, still trying to process the adrenaline crashing through my system.

"Please," she begged, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. Her cheeks were wet, her expression shattered. "Please just stay for the night. I cannot face him alone right now. Do not leave me here by myself."

I looked at my packed bag sitting heavy on my shoulder. I looked at the dark windows, the unfamiliar city sleeping outside. Then I looked at my best friend, who was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

I let out a long, defeated sigh. The fight drained out of my muscles, leaving me exhausted.

I dropped my bag onto the floor. It hit the rug with a heavy thud. I wrapped my arms around her trembling frame, pulling her back into a comforting embrace.

"Fine," I muttered into her hair, rubbing circles into her back. "I will stay."

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my racing heart to slow down. I forcefully reminded myself of the facts. I was only staying because Rosalind begged me to. I was staying to protect my best friend from her tyrannical brother.

I was not staying because of Sterling's thinly veiled, aggressive warning.

And I was absolutely, positively not staying because of the strange, twisting warmth his dark threat just sparked inside my traitorous body.