Ruined By My Brother's Best Friend (by Silverwriter) novel Chapter 17

His Scent

haled sharply as my eyes caught sight of the muscles straining beneath his black T–shirt and the way his abs pressed against the fabric. My throat suddenly felt dry.

I dragged my gaze back to his face only to find his narrowed eyes still fixed on me. He was still holding out his hoodie. Blinking myself out of my trance, I gently pushed his hand away. “You’re the one who’s sick. Why would I let you give me your hoodie?” I shook my head and tried to sidestep him. “You need it more.”

He planted both hands on either side of the sink, trapping me between his arms, and frowned down at me “You don’t always have to be so fucking stubborn,” he hissed.

I pressed myself against the cool marble countertop and rolled my eyes. “You’re sick, Mr. Valerio. You need your hoodie

Something flickered in his eyes at the name I’d called him. A trace of amusement passed through them. “Mr. Valerio now huh?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

I tried pushing his arm away, but he immediately pulled me back into place. Then, in one swift movement, he tugged the hoodie over my head and guided my hands through the sleeves.

Before I could even protest, I was engulfed in his scent. “Hey!” I complained. “You caught me off guard.”

He ignored me and strolled toward the refrigerator. I watched as he grabbed a canned drink and started opening it.

I hurried after him. “You can’t have that.”

He lifted a brow, but opened it anyway. Before I could say anything else, he tipped his head back and drained the entire can in one go.

He wasn’t supposed to be taking anything cold now. I stared at him in disbelief before groaning dramatically and heading back to the pot of soup. “You’re the worst sick person to be around,” I muttered bitterly.

After checking that the soup was coming along nicely, I turned around and realized he wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. Curious, I walked into the living room. I could hear his voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. It took me a moment to realize he was probably speaking Russian.

His voice sounded smooth and firm, and when I peeked around the corner, I watched the movement of his throat as he spoke and the intense concentration etched across his face.

His eyes snapped to mine instantly. And yet again, he’d caught me staring. I swallowed nervously. Since I’d already been caught, I decided to play it off by walking into the living room and sitting down on the couch.

But the moment I sat down, an irritating thought wormed its way into my mind. His fiancée was Russian too. I stood abruptly and a strange feeling settled in my chest. He was probably talking to her and that was why he was speaking Russian. That was why he’d stepped away… I was intruding. His eyes followed me as I hurried out of the living room and back into the kitchen.

I just climbed onto a stool and waited patiently for the soup to finish cooking. I checked at intervals and once I was satisfied with the taste and spice level, I turned off the heat. I briefly considered serving it into a bowl but decided against it. He could do that himself.

I strolled back into the living room and, without looking in his direction, grabbed my phone and buried myself in it. After a while, he got up and left the room. I immediately grabbed the remote and searched for something else to watch.

Once I found a movie. I tried to focus. Tried being the key word, because I failed miserably. I couldn’t concentrate. How could I when I knew he was here? Alone in the same apartment as me. It didn’t help that I was wearing his hoodie. His scent was everywhere. And I might have tugged on the hood once or twice solely to catch more of it.

I replied to a few messages and spent nearly an hour texting Sierra before I finally straightened and glanced over at Alvise. He was still lying in the exact same position. That was odd.

Frowning, I walked over and studied his face. Still confused, I hesitantly pressed a hand against his forehead.

My eyes widened instantly. He was burning up. I hesitantly tapped his cheek. Suddenly, his hand shot out and clamped around my wrist.

“Ouch!” I yelped. His eyes flew open and locked onto mine.

He furrowed his brows. “Arabella? What the fuck are you doing?”

I swallowed nervously. “Umm… you’re really sick. Your temperature is very high.”

He released my wrist and calmly sat up before glancing at his watch. Whatever he saw there had him on his feet almost immediately. Without a word, he headed straight for the door.

I rushed after him. “Alvise, wait!” I called. “You need to go to a hospital.”

Without even turning around, he unlocked the door, stepped outside, and slammed it shut in my face.