They're Soulmates

~~VESPER~~

VESPER

I stare at the two of them, my mind struggling to process the scene unfolding right in front of me.

Three hours trapped in a metal tube in the sky. Another hour stuck pacing the miserable, crowded terminal at the Asheville airport. A long, exhausting drive lugging my heavy bags to this massive estate. I went through all of that just to walk through a door and find Caleb with his tongue shoved deep down Scarlett Whitmore’s throat.

They jump apart. Caleb has the absolute audacity to look guilty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest heaving, his eyes darting anywhere but my face.

“Vesper, I am so sorry you had to see this.” Caleb takes a half step forward, his voice a pathetic, wavering mess.

I dig my fingernails into my palms until the sharp sting grounds me. “Sorry? I expect you to have a modicum of self-respect, Caleb. That woman is getting married in two days, and you are making out with her in your bedroom?”

Scarlett does not look guilty at all. She steps out from behind Caleb, her posture relaxed, her lips still swollen from the kiss. She shifts her weight, bringing her left hand up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. The massive diamond on her finger catches the ambient light of the bedroom, refracting a blinding, expensive sparkle that makes my blood run hot.

“Would you rather he make out with you instead?” Scarlett asks.

Caleb shoots her a panicked look. “Don’t do that, Letty.”

“Why not?” Scarlett tilts her head, her gaze sweeping over me with practiced, vicious disdain. “She is miserable because no one wants her. That is why she spends her miserable little life trying to control yours. You are old enough to do whatever you want, Caleb.”

I step further into the room, my vision narrowing on Scarlett's smug face. "Old enough? You both are acting like reckless children. What is the grand plan here, Caleb? Sneak around behind her fiancé’s back for the rest of your life? Screw her in the honeymoon suite while poor Barrett is passed out drunk from the reception?"

Scarlett laughs aloud. The sound rings through the tense bedroom like a twisted, cruel joke.

Caleb straightens his spine, adopting a sudden, misplaced surge of confidence. “Scarlett is leaving Barrett.”

Scarlett stops laughing. She turns to look at him, her brows pulling together in genuine confusion. “No, I am not. Where did you get that idea from?”

“We just kissed.” Caleb stares at her, the desperate hope in his eyes making my stomach turn.

“So?” Scarlett shrugs, her tone careless and light. “That does not mean I should call off my wedding.”

Caleb’s confident posture crumbles instantly. “That is exactly what it means, Letty.”

“Are you serious right now?” Scarlett sighs in profound annoyance. “The wedding is happening, Caleb. Do not be dramatic.”

I watch the fragile hope drain out of Caleb's face in real time. The devastation that replaces it is raw and agonizing. This woman is killing him, piece by piece, and he is letting her do it with a smile on his face. A fresh wave of fury crashes over me. When will he ever learn? When will he stop letting her treat his heart like a disposable toy?

I point a shaking finger toward the hallway. “Take your manipulative, cheating self out of here.”

Scarlett flashes a razor-sharp smile. “Or what?”

I close the distance between us by two aggressive steps. “You enjoy this, do you not? You enjoy torturing him. You enjoy dangling yourself right in front of his face, knowing he is too blindly in love with you to see what a sick, twisted game you are playing.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes, clearly bored by my anger. “What are you going to do about it? Scold me to death? Jeez. Even Caleb is tired of your relentless scolding, Vesper.”

“Shut that hole in your face and get the hell out.” I snarl the words, my hands balling into tight fists at my sides.

“Sweetheart, he is the one who invited me over.” Scarlett steps closer, lowering her voice into a mocking, venomous purr. “Maybe if you were as hot and as skilled in bed as I am, he would actually look your way for once in his life.”

The last thread of my patience snaps.

I lunge for her. I throw my weight forward, my hands raising to grab a fistful of that perfect blonde hair, ready to wipe that smug smile off her face by force.

I never reach her.

Killian intercepts me. I had forgotten he was even standing in the doorway behind me. Two thick, muscular arms wrap around my waist like industrial steel bands. The sheer force of his momentum halts my attack instantly. He hauls me backward, pulling my back flush against the hard, unforgiving expanse of his chest. My feet actually leave the floor for a second before he plants me down, keeping me firmly pinned.

I thrash in his grip, kicking my heels backward. "Unhand me, Killian."

"I can't do that, Vesper," he replies. His voice is a low, calm rumble vibrating against my spine.

I twist my shoulders, throwing my elbows back, but his hold on my waist does not loosen a fraction of an inch. Fury pumps pure adrenaline through my veins. "I am going to get very violent with you right now. Let me go."

“Let it go, Kitten. Let them be.”

I freeze for a split second, my brain short-circuiting at the nickname. I twist my neck to glare up at him over my shoulder. “Kitten? Why the hell would I do that?”

Killian maintains his iron grip, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “Because they need to sort things out between themselves. Your aggressive presence is only going to make things worse. Let's give them some privacy.”

I want to scream at him. I want to argue that leaving Caleb alone with that predator is the worst possible idea in the world. But the worst part is, Killian is right. A public screaming match is not going to fix Caleb's delusion. I hate that he is right. I hate the logical, infuriating calm radiating from him.

I stop struggling and let my arms drop.

Killian takes the hint. He keeps one heavy hand on the small of my back and steers me out of the bedroom, firmly closing the heavy wooden door behind us. Even through the solid wood, I can hear Caleb’s voice pleading. It is soft, broken, and desperate as he begs Scarlett not to leave him. The pathetic sound makes bile rise in the back of my throat.

Killian guides me down the long, carpeted hallway and toward the grand staircase. By the time we reach the massive living room on the ground floor, I feel like I have been set on fire from the inside out. My skin is prickling with unspent rage.

I drop onto the expansive leather couch, crossing my arms over my chest, fuming in silence.

Killian does not leave. He sits down right beside me, stretching his long legs out and claiming an obnoxious amount of space on the cushions. He rests his arm along the back of the sofa, looking entirely too relaxed for a man whose brother is currently getting his heart shredded upstairs.

“Is that how dramatic you usually are?” Killian asks. “You were making it painfully obvious, by the way.”

I snap my head toward him, my jaw tight. “Making what obvious?”

“That you are in love with Caleb.”

My heart performs a violent, erratic jump against my ribs. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I stare at his handsome, impassive face, wondering how he could possibly come to that conclusion.

I square my shoulders and glare at him. “I am not in love with him.”

Killian lets out a deep, lazy chuckle. “Oh, you are. Even Caleb knows.”

Panic flares in my chest, hot and bright. “What are you talking about? Did he say something to you?”

Killian shrugs his broad shoulders. He turns his head, studying me with those dark, piercing, knowing eyes that seem to strip away every defense I have. “Does he have to? We only just met today, and I sensed it immediately. He has known you for years. Do the math, Vesper.”

I cannot sit still anymore. I spring up from the couch and begin pacing the length of the Persian rug. My hands are shaking. I rub my palms against the denim of my jeans, trying to process this conversation. The cavernous living room suddenly feels claustrophobic, the oxygen thinning out with every breath I take.

I stop pacing and point a finger at him. “Well, you are wrong about whatever you think you know. I am not in love with Caleb.”

“Right,” Killian drawls, his tone dripping with thick sarcasm.

“I am not, Killian.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kitten.”

I pick up a decorative throw pillow and grip it tight, fighting the urge to throw it at his smug face. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? Kitten?”

Before I can hurl the pillow or an insult at his head, the sound of rapid, heavy footsteps thunders from the grand staircase.

Scarlett storms down the marble steps, her heels clicking aggressively against the stone. She does not look back. She makes a straight run for the front entrance. Caleb is right on her heels, chasing after her like a desperate beggar. They both rush out into the evening air. The massive double doors slam shut behind them, the heavy thud reverberating through the silent house and rattling the expensive fixtures.

I do not even pause to breathe. I drop the pillow and sprint toward the foyer to follow them. I need to drag Caleb away from her before he humiliates himself any further.

Killian moves faster. He shoots off the couch and intercepts me before I even make it to the hallway. He grabs me by the waist again, his large hands clamping down over my hip bones, halting my momentum in a heartbeat.

I twist violently to face him, my teeth bared. “What is your problem with me?”

“I do not want you doing something stupid in my parents’ house,” Killian says, his voice flat and commanding.

“I care about my friend.” I shove at his chest, but it feels like pushing against a concrete pillar. “You clearly do not care about yours, or you would be calling Barrett right now to tell him his precious fiancée is cheating on him in your brother's bedroom.”

Killian snorts. It is a harsh, cynical sound. “You think Barrett does not know? She has been cheating on him for months.”

My mouth falls open. The fight drains out of my limbs as the sheer absurdity of his statement hits me. “Are you serious?”

My mind races, trying to put the pieces together. How does she do it? How does one woman wield such destructive, blinding power over two grown men? Why would Barrett stay with a woman he knows is sleeping with someone else days before their wedding?

Killian uses my moment of shock to maneuver me. He pushes me backward toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the backyard. His grip remains firm around my waist, guiding me until my back is practically pressed against the cold glass.

He steps in close, boxing me in. I can feel every inch of his large frame looming over me. The suffocating heat radiating off his skin. The hard, dense muscle of his chest brushing against my shirt when he breathes. His scent—a dark, masculine mix of cedar, clean sweat, and expensive cologne—wraps around me like a heavy blanket.

The proximity makes it impossible to think clearly. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs. It is an odd sensation, so overwhelming and intense that I do not even know what to call it. All I can register is the painful, hyper-focused awareness of Killian's presence. He is everywhere at once, trapping me in a cage made of his own body. Maybe my brain is short-circuiting because it has been so long since I was last touched by a man. Maybe it is just him.

I force my gaze away from his chest and look through the glass to the scene unfolding outside.

Caleb and Scarlett are standing by the edge of the illuminated swimming pool. They are arguing. Caleb’s hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides, his shoulders hunched, his jaw tight with agonizing frustration. Scarlett, on the other hand, looks cool, composed, and utterly untouchable. I cannot hear the words passing between them through the thick glass, but I do not need to. I have seen this exact scene play out too many times over the years. Caleb pouring his heart out, pleading for a scrap of affection, while Scarlett strings him along just enough to keep him hooked.

A bitter, heavy knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

Killian leans down, lowering his head until his mouth is hovering right beside my ear. “If you want to spy on them, Kitten, you can get a good view from here.”

His deep voice sends a shiver straight down my spine. I try to ignore how ticklish his warm breath is against my skin, how it raises a trail of goosebumps along the sensitive line of my neck.

“This way, you will not interfere in their business,” Killian continues smoothly. “We can even gossip about them if you like. Now tell me, Vesper, what do you think they are arguing about right now?”

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes fixed on the figures by the pool to avoid looking at the man trapping me. “Probably about how she is finally leaving him for good.”

“You are wrong.” Killian's tone is absolute. “She will never leave him. And he will never let her go. They are soulmates. Toxic ones, sure. But it is what it is. The cycle never ends.”

There is something dark and resigned in his voice, like he has watched this twisted drama play out too many times to count and has simply accepted the carnage.

Unlike him, I am not ready to throw my hands up and give up on my best friend.

I lean back slightly, creating a fraction of an inch of space between us. "Newsflash, Cupid. She is marrying someone else in forty-eight hours. Your grand soulmate theory is not exactly a proven fact."

Killian shifts his weight, his thigh brushing against mine. "You think the wedding will actually hold?"

“Of course it will.”

“It won't.”

I scoff loudly, turning my head to glare up into his shadowed face. "What do you mean by that? Are you going to actively sabotage it?"

"I don't need to." Killian looks out the window, his expression unreadable. "It is just the way they are built. They break up, they make up, they destroy everyone around them. It is their toxic little cycle."

I push against his chest again, my anger returning full force. "You are sick, Killian. Are you seriously hoping that your best friend's fiancée breaks his heart at the altar?"

Killian looks down at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with ruthless pragmatism. "Nothing would gladden me more than to see Scarlett back with Caleb."

His tone is so casual, so horrifyingly nonchalant. I want to slap that smug, calculating look right off his face.

I grit my teeth. "Barrett is a good man. He does not deserve to go through this kind of public humiliation."

"Exactly," Killian counters, his voice dropping into a deadly serious register. "Barrett is my best friend. He does not deserve this. If Caleb takes Scarlett off the board, Barrett is saved."

I stare at him in sheer horror, processing the cold mechanics of his loyalty. "And your brother? Does he deserve this? Does he deserve to be constantly tortured and manipulated by that woman for the rest of his life just so your friend can go free?"

Killian raises an eyebrow, his jaw ticking. “What do you think my answer to that question is, Vesper?”

“I expect you to act like you actually care about your own blood.”

“You think I don't?” he asks, his voice tight.

“Do you?” I challenge, tilting my chin up defiantly. “If you did, you would be out there chasing Scarlett off this property right now. You would be protecting him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because he is your brother.”

“A brother who is obviously, hopelessly in love,” Killian fires back.

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “You call that love? She is using him. She is draining him dry. How is that love? Maybe you have never been in love before, Killian, so your emotionally stunted brain does not know what it looks like. I can tell you with my entire heart that true love does not look like that trainwreck outside.”

Killian doesn't miss a beat. He leans in closer, his dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, calculating light as he traps my gaze.

"What does it look like, Vesper? Is it the same as the feelings you have for Caleb? Because that looks really miserable."