Ruined By My Brother's Best Friend (by Silverwriter) novel Chapter 7

He’s here

ARABELLA

Something was on my head. It was either a car or a truck. Whatever it was, it felt impossibly heavy, pressing down on my skull and causing so much pain that it seemed to spread through the rest of my body.

My eyes fluttered open, and I clutched my head as the realization hit me. The sensation of a truck sitting on my head was actually just a stupid headache. I snapped my eyes open immediately, ignoring the pounding pain as I looked around, trying to understand what was going on. I was on a bed, and as I glanced around, I realized I was in my apartment

Before I could shake off the confusion, I sneezed abruptly. Then again. That’s when I realized I was freezing despite being under my thick duvet. I had a fever. Slowly, memories of leaving work, getting caught in the rain, and being dragged into a car began to surface.

Wait… I was dragged into a car. My heart sped up, and my fingers grew shaky as I looked around my room and shot to my feet. Then it hit me. Alvise.

I’d seen him before everything went blank. I was sure it was him, but I still had no idea how I got back here. Before I could gather my thoughts, the door suddenly flew open, and I jumped back with a yelp. I lost my footing and landed hard on the floor, causing me to wince.

“You… You… scared… me,” I forced out, clutching my chest as I stared at the man now leaning against my bedroom door.

He stood tall with his arms folded, casually looking around my room. His gaze was cold and lazy, like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Suddenly uneasy, I forced myself up, conscious of how ridiculous I looked in my damp clothes compared to the man dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt.

I shifted uncomfortably in the silence, confused about what was going on or what I was supposed to say while he continued inspecting my room. It was clean, I always made sure of that, but having him in my space made me self–conscious.

Finally, his eyes found mine, and I held his gaze, nervousness creeping in as I searched those fiery blue depths for anything that might reveal what he was thinking.

I got nothing,

I looked away and cleared my throat awkwardly. “Did… did you bring me here?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed away from the door and walked toward my armchair, taking a seat.

I just remained standing awkwardly, confused and speechless, the pounding headache long forgotten.

Alvise leaned back in the chair and stroked his chin once before his cool voice filled the room. “What is wrong with you?”

I blinked once. Twice. “M–Me?” I asked, pointing at my chest.

Except for the tick in his jaw and the way his muscles flexed as he stroked his chin again, he gave nothing away. “I’m beginning to think you’re just dumb.”

I flinched, taking a step back as a frown etched its way to my face. Alvise had never spoken to me like that before. Well, he never really spoke to me at all, but this was new. And I didn’t know how to feel about it.

It hurt. Hearing the guy I’d been obsessed with for years call me dumb definitely stung.

“I am not dumb,” I retorted, shaking my head, only to wince as the headache worsened. “Why would you call me dumb?”

“What the fuck were you doing on the streets at midnight in the fucking rain?” he snapped harshly, his voice cold. He didn’t raise his voice, but I could sense the disapproval in his gaze. " As working,” I said simply, biting my lower lip.

He tapped his foot against the floor. “You were working on the street?”

I furrowed my brows and folded my arms, suddenly agitated. He knew exactly what I meant. “I left work late and ordered an Uber, but-”

I glanced at my wall clock. It was past 2:00 a.m. I frowned, suddenly realizing that he’d probably been here for over two hours.

“You’ve been here for so long?” I blurted out, feeling guilty. “Sorry for ruining your night… morning. You can leave now. Thank you for-”

I furrowed my brows, confused. “Yes.”

“Then go fucking do what I said.” His tone left no room for argument.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how serious and distant he was being. But then again, he was always like this. Now just ten times worse.

I wanted to ask why he was still here, but instead, I walked into my closet, grabbed a hoodie and sweatpants, and slipped into the bathroom.

I let out a tense breath the moment I got inside, grateful for the escape. Something about his presence always unnerved me, and knowing he was still in my room was maddening.

But before I could dwell on that, my reflection in the mirror pissed me off. My top was no longer as soaked as it had been, but I could still see the outline of my face bra. I winced at the thought of how it must have looked when it was completely drenched in the rain.

My hair was a mess, and my eyes were puffy. Before I could yank my hair out and cry, I slipped off my damp clothes, prepared a hot bath, and washed away my frustration.

After drying my hair and putting on my clothes, I exited the bathroom, fully prepared to find an empty room. But he was still there.

Without looking up from his phone, he tossed a packet of pills onto the table. I assumed they were for my headache, so I grabbed a bottle of water from my nightstand and swallowed one.

I stood awkwardly, wondering what to say, or why he was even still here, before grabbing fresh sheets and changing the damp ones while watching him type on his phone from the corner of my eye.

The moment I finished, his voice cut through the silence.

“Now tell me what the fuck happened.”