In Love With My Brother's Killer

CHAPTER ONE “KILL. THIS. MOTHERFUCKER.” ONE YEAR EARLIER “My back is trying to divorce me.” Iris’s hands stopped between Arabella’s shoulder blades. “Your back?” “Yes.” Arabella didn’t look up from the tablet balanced across her knees. Morning sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the living room gold at the edges. A glass of water sat untouched on the coffee table beside six reports she had promised herself she would leave at the office. She had brought all six home. Apparently, self-control had taken the night off. Iris pressed her thumbs into the knot beneath Arabella’s shoulder. “You slept on the couch again.” “I rested my eyes.” “For four hours.” “That sounds like sleep.” “It sounds like you own an expensive bed for decoration.” Arabella glanced over her shoulder. Iris immediately looked down. Arabella’s mouth twitched. “That was almost disrespectful.” “Sorry.” “And there it goes.” Footsteps sounded from the hallway. “Good. I’d hate to discover someone else has finally learned how to manage you.” Arabella didn’t turn. “Good morning, Junior.” Julian Voss walked into the living room wearing a charcoal polo, dark trousers and the mildly offended expression of a man who considered mornings a design flaw. He looked at Arabella. Then Iris. Then the reports spread across the table. “No.” Arabella blinked. “No what?” “No to whatever this is.” “This is called work.” “This is called obsession.” “It pays better.” Julian crossed the room and plucked the tablet out of her hands. Arabella stared at the empty space. “Give that back.” “What did you eat?” “My patience.” “That explains why there’s none left.” “Julian.” “What did you eat?” She reached for the tablet. He lifted it higher. Arabella narrowed her eyes. Being older had given Julian several ridiculous ideas about authority. Being taller had unfortunately made them difficult to challenge before breakfast. “I had coffee.” “That is not food.” “It had milk.” Julian stared at her. She stared back. Three seconds. Four. Arabella sighed. “Fine.” “Breakfast.” “I have a board meeting.” “You have thirty-five minutes.” “Thirty-two.” “Excellent. Chew quickly.” Iris covered a smile. Arabella caught it. “Traitor.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to.” Julian tossed the tablet onto the opposite sofa. “Eggs?” “Fine.” “Toast?” “Fine.” “Fruit?” Arabella frowned. “Do I look sick?” “You look like sleep beat you in an alley.” “Order the fruit.” “Finally, a sensible decision.” Ten minutes later, breakfast occupied most of the dining table. Arabella had managed half her toast before Julian stole a strawberry from her plate. She stabbed the back of his hand with her fork. He jerked away. “Violent woman.” “Thief.” “You have twelve.” “You have your own.” “Yours taste better.” “They came from the same bowl.” “Psychological difference.” Arabella rolled her eyes and reached for her coffee. For a while, they ate without discussing anything important. Julian complained about mushrooms in his eggs. Arabella informed him that thirty-five was too old to interrogate vegetables. He accused the chef of sabotage. She told him to grow up. It was stupid. Easy. Normal. The sort of morning neither of them would have thought worth remembering. Julian checked his watch. Arabella noticed. A minute later, he did it again. Then a third time. She leaned back. “Where are you going?” He looked up. “Nowhere.” “You’ve checked your watch three times.” “I have not.” “You’re doing it again.” Julian lowered his wrist. Arabella studied him. “Woman?” He scoffed. “Please.” “Man?” Coffee caught in his throat. Arabella grinned. “That reaction was dramatic.” “You’re irritating.” “Still waiting.” Julian wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Daddy-daughter day.” Arabella paused. “Oh.” His eyebrows rose. “Oh?” “I forgot that was today.” “Nadia didn’t.” “Obviously.” “She sent me three reminders last night.” “Because you cancelled last month.” “I had meetings.” “You always have meetings.” “So do you.” “Yes, but nobody expects emotional availability from me.” “That’s because you terrify people.” “Efficiently.” Julian smiled. Arabella stole one of his strawberries. “What are you two doing?” “She wants to shop.” “You hate shopping.” “She knows.” “Cruel child.” “My child.” “Same bloodline.” Julian pointed his fork at her. “She also wants lunch somewhere that believes feeding customers is vulgar.” “She’s nineteen.” “I know how old my daughter is.” “You complain like you adopted her yesterday.” “I pay tuition. Complaining is included.” Arabella laughed. “Tell her her aunt misses her.” “Tell her yourself.” “I will.” “You said that last week.” Her fingers stilled around her coffee cup. Julian didn’t need to say anything else. Work had a habit of swallowing whatever Arabella failed to defend from it. Sleep. Meals. Calls. People. She reached for her phone. “I’ll call her tonight.” Julian gave her a look. “I will.” “Hmm.” “Stop parenting me.” “You make it difficult.” He stood and reached for another strawberry. Arabella slapped his hand away. “You have no shame.” “I’m a Voss.” “That explains nothing.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. She shoved him away. “Get off me.” “Love you too.” “Go torment your daughter.” “Gladly.” He made it halfway to the doorway before stopping. “Bella.” She looked up. “Try not to murder anybody in the board meeting.” “No promises.” His grin came easily. Then he disappeared down the hall. For a moment, Arabella stared at the doorway. Iris gathered the empty cups. “The reports again?” Arabella reached for her tablet. “I’m about to walk into a room full of people who already decided what they think of me.” Iris glanced at her. “And you enjoy that?” Arabella stood. “No.” She picked up the reports. “I enjoy changing their minds.”