My Best Friend Brother

Chapter Sixteen

Scarlett POV

It was dark out when Dev drove me home. He

had given me his sweater to wear since my blouse was ripped. I glanced at him in his white dress shirt. He was stoic, deep in

thought. I wondered if he would regret his decision to defend my honor and have his friend, and all the connections that went along

with him, smashed to a pulp?NWe didn’t speak at all during the short drive. When we arrived home, no one seemed to realize we had been

gone for several hours. Dev walked behind me up the stairs to my room, like a protective shadow, while the remainder of the guests

cheered over another soccer game in the family room, and children laughed and romped around in front of a Pixar movie under Annika’s

watchful eye on the other side of the house.

Maybe I deserved what happened for betraying

her in order to prove something to Dev. I was an i***t. When we made it to my door, I faced him. Once the shock had worn off, my mind had started working. I had questions. “Dev, how did you know that would happen?” He looked distressed. Tortured. “I didn’t know. I never would have invited him here had I known…what he was capable of,” he answered, solemnly.

“Then why did you ask me not to go with

him?”He paused before answering, as if trying to find the right words. “I don’t know. I just knew he had bad intentions. I can’t explain it. It was the way he looked at you. Like he wanted to eat you alive.”Dev’s eyes locked onto mine. That feeling in my stomach returned.

His hand brushed over mine, then held it, his

eyes never wavering. His touch was magic and heat and electricity—I wanted more of it.

After a moment, I broke the spell and pulled

my hand away, but it was clear we had both felt something, the world shifting slightly and changing the energy between us forever.

“What are you going to tell your parents? Oh god, I hate that I’ll have to tell them.”

He shifted his weight, folded his left arm

across his chest, and rubbed his chin with right hand, like he always did when he was thinking. “Don’t worry about it, Scarlett.

I’ll handle everything so you won’t have to think about it ever again,” he declared.

“Thanks.” I tugged at his sweater. “Let me

give this back to you,” I said.

“No. You keep it,” he offered. His eyes

grazed over my form for a second. “It looks much better on you.”

When I didn’t say anything, words failing me,

Dev turned to go. “Goodnight, Scarlett.”

“Goodnight,” I managed. I think that was the first time in all the years I knew Dev that we had said “goodnight” to each other. I shut

my bedroom door and wrapped my arms around my chest, breathing in Dev’s scent, and reliving the memory of his strong embrace.What was happening between us?

“Dev’s Journal

For lack of a better vocabulary, this was one f****d-up Thanksgiving—and not because the turkey was dry. In summary, I brought my secret

potential half-brother to the party and after drinking a poorly disguised liter of vodka, he attempted to r**e my sister’s best

friend at the creek we used to swim in as kids. And frustratingly, my attraction to Scarlett has only intensified to levels that could kill a weaker man. I’ll never forgive myself for bringing that wretched barbarian to my home and subjecting her to him. Thank god I had the decent sense to follow them. The fury I felt…I can’t explain it, but I thought I would kill him. If I hadn’t seen her frightened eyes and decided against subjecting her to more violence, I would have. “I’m certain of it. Something about her energy makes

me act out and yet reigns me in at the same time. Being in her presence is like triumphantly waking from a coma…only to overdose

on a massive shot of heroin. Enough of that. I will have to keep my distance from that bastard if I’m going to prevent myself

from being in a murder line-up one day.

Bastard? What bloody irony!

Speaking of bastards and their

fathers, when I called Gerald Franklin tonight to tell him about his wayward son, his response was peculiar. “That boy has always

been trouble,” he said. “You’re good for him, I think, but he might be a lost cause. Someday I’ll have to hand over the reins…and I’ll be relieved to know you’re around.” Hand over the reins? To Franklin Bank? Holy s**t. Of course I had planned for world domination after school—it’s in my nature to over-achieve at everything—but to have a shot at leading an international banking conglomerate at such a young age?

Let’s just say that I’m intrigued. Maybe being the bastard son of a billionaire banker isn’t so

massively horrible. Maybe there are opportunities ahead that I couldn’t have found any other way. Maybe need to take advantage

of them. Maybe this rage I feel towards my mother…towards the world…it can be channeled into something else far more productive.

Maybe…Scarlett doesn’t hate me

anymore. How brilliant that would be.

-Dev