Seducing My Husband's Brother

The Fourth Guest

PURITY

••••••••••

I'm uncomfortable.

It's difficult pinpointing the reason why, but it definitely has loads to do with the way Ryan's eyes are judging me.

At this point, I think I'd prefer if it was his brother and not him that showed up here.

I mean, it was exciting and all seeing Raya, liberating seeing my boy, but when Ryan popped out, I felt overwhelming... shame?

"Fuck." The word filters through like a quiet breath, loud enough so I can hear it, but too low to allow anybody else.

I lower my gaze and scan my nails, looking for nothing in particular, but this nervous search definitely brings to my attention how much I need a professional manicure.

Inevitably, my mind travels back to Marco. He popped right out of the wardrobe after the trio left. Somehow—because I'm sure we weren't loud enough—he found out it was Ryan and not Ryat, so he made a whole urgency show, saying how it was important that Ryan see him.

"Boss."

My heart stops. That nauseating knot returning to my bowels.

Tilting my head back, my eyes meet Marco's, but he tears them away immediately.

"You were missing," Ryan's calm voice follows.

There's a slight pause, a hesitation, but Marco speaks—calm, calculated. "I stepped out for a while. I needed some air."

With the most minimalist movement, Ryan scoffs. His body rigid, neck slightly turned to keep Marco in view.

"Step forward." The order sounds like a request but everybody knows better.

There's a tiny inflation and deflation in Marco's chest before he takes those few steps that now place him directly beside Ryan—three steps closer to me.

My cunt throbs, and I clamp my legs tight. I have ample reason to believe my v****a is suicidal. Really.

"I trust you didn't miss anything of importance, soldier."

My eyes dance between him and Marco, the obvious tension in their exchange penetrating through my skin.

A little weight lands on my leg, and I look to check it out—Angelo.

An automatic smile graces my face as I reach for my son. I thought he was too busy for me, but here he is, wanting my attention as always.

"Ay, mi amor." I place him on my lap. "¿Qué tienes para mí?" I reach for the object he's got enclosed in his hand.

"Nothing escaped me, sir," Marco's mellow voice answers.

"That so?"

Marco swallows, then nods. "Positive."

"Hm," Ryan meditates, his index finger continually rubbing the space just below his nose—above his lips. Those succulent lips. I wonder if he still tastes the same—sweet and elegant.

Shaking my head, I force myself out of it, breathing slowly to stop myself from charging down that rat hole.

"That will be all, Marc."

His legs clamp together as he takes the attention stance before bowing deeply. "Sir."

Ryan waves him off, and my eyes follow Marco's every movement—from him rising back to full height to the little display of a march he does in the opposite direction.

It's crazy how much Ryan's presence affects him, not sure he was half as agitated even after Ryat turned my room upside down in search of him.

Looking back towards Ryan, our eyes meet, almost as if he's been staring all this while. His honey eyes bore holes through me, prying me open so he can see what resides within me.

I don't break eye contact—an unusual choice—but it seems like I'm not the only one willing to step out of their comfort zone today, Ryan doesn't look away either.

His intense gaze remains on me until I'm at the point where I feel completely and utterly stripped. Why does that appeal to me?

"Ahem!" I give up and seek Raya out where she's seated on the floor, eyes fixed on me.

She's making that face, the face that says she's pieced something together and is just waiting for the right time to spill. Could she have noticed the tension between Marco and me? Marco did a great job hiding it, but I'm not so sure about myself. Then again, it's also her I'm-only-just-suspecting-something look; there's no telling.

"What's up?"

It takes her a full second before she reacts, but when she does, she's quick.

The couch dips at the arm as she makes herself comfortable on it, efficiently towering over me now. It's strange how Ryan and Ryat are towering figures, but Raya is just shy of five feet, barely missing the mark.

Sans the ever-linking eyes, one would easily pass all three siblings as strangers.

Ryan, the first and obviously most resourceful sibling, is said to have taken his looks from his mother—something I still don't see, even after extensively studying the woman's portrait.

Ryat—nasty brat—took his looks from his father. They'd easily pass for twins if it weren't for the astounding difference in height.

And Raya, the little princess and the last Reigns from Rex's fruitful love with his wife, took her entire look from her grandmother. From the blonde hair that's absolutely not a Reigns quality, to the petite figure and dwarfing height—some say even her colorful personality—all from Illayana Dragunov.

Before we're able to strike a conversation, the elevator bell dings, and I curl into myself, preparing for the worst, but he doesn't come.

Instead, a guard—tall and imposing; a face I've often seen around Ryan—appears, urgency etched into the creases of his scarred face.

Without paying much of an attention to us, he heads straight for Ryan and leans into him, whispering.

I study them—more accurately, I study him. Hoping to read the situation from his reaction, but his poker face doesn't shift. The scowl on his face might have deepened slightly, but his calm remains.

After a few minutes of hushed exchanges, the man—Leon—pulls away, returning to his gigantic height.

"Something came up?" Raya asks.

He draws his lips into a tight smile, reassuring her. "Nothing of importance, Principessa."

"Ow." She's not satisfied but knows further questions won't serve her.

Ryan gets to his feet, straightens his jacket, and nods my way. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"You are leaving?" Raya doesn't seem pleased.

You'd stay here until I come to get you," he says, already walking away. "Angelo can remain all Purity wants."

"Uhh." I inhale sharply, stunned.

But before I'm able to react properly, they both exit the penthouse. Now I'm wondering why he even bothered to come.

"What do you think that's about?" I ask Raya, who I'm sure is just as clueless as I am.

She shrugs. "Mafia business."

"Hopefully nothing dangerous."

"Mafia business is dangerous," her voice is sharp.

"Hm..." I nod, trailing off. "So, you're not in school."

"I know," she beams.

"Why?"

She shrugs. "I got bored."

Well, trust the mafia princess to use her influential heritage to the fullest. I didn't have such privileges in Spain.

"How long have you been around?"

"Three days," she answers. "It took three whole days to convince Ryat to let me see you."

My shoulders lift slightly before returning to their default height. Considering it's Ryat, that didn't take very long. "Thanks for Angelo." I squeeze him closer, kissing his head—a guise to inhale his baby essence even more.

"That wasn't me. It was Ryan," she says casually. "Going by Ryat's foul mood, I couldn't dare ask for more than just to see my sister-in-law."

My hold tightens around Angelo, squeezing him a little too much.

"Thank him the next time you see him."

I nod just to deter her from trying to persuade me.

"So..." she trails off. "Which of these handsome men are you f*****g?"

My hand flies to her mouth, clamping it shut. "Angelo's here!"

She remains like that for a while, staring down at me with wide eyes—and I'm sure Angelo's looking too—then, like a damn child, she sticks her tongue out and licks my palm.

"Hey!" I pull away. "The f**k is wrong with you?"

"My answer, Purity. My answer."

"None!"

"It's a woman, then?"

"No!!" My heart hammers out of control, almost jumping out of place.

Just then, the elevator comes back to life, and I straighten my back, wondering if Ryan forgot something.

"Welcome back, sir." Marco appears suddenly, bowing in respect.

"It's good to be back?"

My breath ceases to exist. The erratic beats of my heart stop, replaced by the slow rhythm of foreboding.

That voice.

Finally, he steps into view and our eyes meet. The air stills, almost as if the whole world stopped existing and it's just him and I in this hell that we've created.

His gaze never leaves mine, even when a small figure collides with his chest—Raya. "Good to see you, Ryat."

Not good to see you, Ryat.