Under One Roof

The Forbidden Fruit

Aria’s POV

But if he had to be something, I could settle for brother, I guess.

I forced a smile, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck, and stood slowly, trying to act normal. Cool. Sisterly.

“I’m Aria. Twenty-one,” I said, stretching out my hand with my best and rarest smile. “Nice to meet you, Wyatt.”

He didn’t take it.

His eyes dropped to my hand, then dragged slowly, deliberately, down to my toes and back up, ending at my face.

That stare? unreadable, yet it stings sharper than a needle.

And then he just turned around without a word and started up the stairs.

The air felt tighter. Heavier.

I let my hand drop slowly, like it had betrayed me just by reaching out. Mr. Micah stepped forward with a small laugh, gently patting my back. “Don’t mind him. He’s always like that. Doesn’t mean anything by it.”

My mom gave a tight smile, trying to smooth things over, but the sting was already blooming in my chest.

Wyatt climbed halfway before stopping.

He turned.

And since my eyes were fixed on him like a predator stalking prey, our eyes locked instantly.

His gaze remained unreadable. Cold.

But this time it lingered. Different from before.

It was like he was studying me. Measuring me. Deciding something.

That stare cut deeper than it should have, slipping beneath my skin and settling right into my chest.

And even though it felt like he hated me, the fact that it was him, the owner of that jaw dropping, impossible body, looking at me like that, I couldn’t help but forgive him instantly, even though we both knew he didn’t seek my forgiveness.

I held his gaze. Smiled at him, just a little.

But he didn’t smile back.

Instead, he gave one final, unreadable look, almost like a warning, then turned and continued up the stairs, every step dripping confidence.

“Arrogant,” I muttered under my breath, my eyes glued to his back.

“Arrogant… but so damn handsome.”

It was my mother’s sharp look that made me realize I might have said the last part out loud. She cleared her throat softly.

“Aria.”

I blinked, snapping back into the room. “What?”

She gave me that look. The one that said behave without actually saying it.

Mr. Micah laughed, smiling warmly at my mom. From the way he looked at her, it was obvious he hadn’t caught what I’d said. He probably just sensed the tension and mistook it for something harmless.

“What a sweet girl,” he said lightly, glancing at me. “Already trying to make friends with him. You’ll get used to each other.”

Get used to each other.

The words echoed in my mind as I stared at the empty staircase where Wyatt had disappeared.

Used to him.

The thought sent something strange curling low in my stomach.

Who said I wanted to get used to him?

Getting used to someone meant comfort. Familiarity. Predictability.

Wyatt didn’t look like the type meant to be gotten used to.

It would have been more accurate if he’d said, you’ll tame him.

Because I wouldn’t mind being the one to do it.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Learning every sharp edge and figuring out exactly where to press until that cold, unreadable expression cracked.

Yes. Much better if I’m the one who tames him.

My mother and Mr. Micah chatted softly, smiling, laughing, leaning into each other like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. And there I was, barely listening, my eyes fixed on the staircase as if he might suddenly emerge again.

I didn’t even know why I was hoping he would.

I turned slowly from the grand staircase, letting my gaze drift over the polished floors, the tall windows spilling golden evening light into every corner, and the quiet atmosphere of a house that felt too big for comfort and too full of secrets for peace. The magnitude of it all, the space, the luxury, the silent staff moving discreetly and professionally in the background, everything should have been overwhelming.

But it wasn’t.

The air here felt different. Heavy. Charged. Like something had been waiting long before I arrived.

Maybe it was the luxury.

Maybe it was the danger.

Or maybe it was him.

Either way, the walls suddenly didn’t feel cold to me anymore.

They felt promising.

For a moment, I found myself silently reassuring my own thoughts.

It’s not that bad staying here.

“Maybe…” I admitted quietly to myself, “living here might not be a punishment after all.”

It could be the beginning of something dangerously delicious… but strictly forbidden.

Like a towering tree, heavy with ripe, tempting fruit, meant to be untouched, yet impossible to ignore. And the selfish part of me wanted to taste it anyway.

“Well,” I whispered to myself, almost daring, “I’m not the first to be tempted by forbidden fruit. Even in some book of God, some dared to take a bite.”

If this is another forbidden fruit, then maybe… just maybe… I want a taste. And if I were greedy enough… I’d claim the whole tree for myself.

And maybe… I wouldn’t stop at just a bite.