Arya: His Softest Sin

Chapter 4

Arya.

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“Here.”

Allison waves a folded piece of paper at me like it’s a winning lottery ticket.

I dry my hands on the apron, already suspicious. “What is it?”

She hops up onto the counter beside the sink, grinning in a way that means trouble.

I unfold it.

I didn’t know what love was until you.

Now I just want to love you — and finally do it right.

I stare at the handwriting. Then at her.

“Have you suddenly become a poet?” I ask, smiling in disbelief.

She beams. “It’s cute, right? I’m giving it to him later.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling. “Allison. No. That man could literally be your older brother.”

“So?” She shrugs. “Age gaps are hot.”

Delusional. Absolutely delusional.

We finish cleaning up the kitchen, but she does not stop talking. Not once. Every five seconds she’s crafting some dramatic fantasy about how she’ll seduce Nik, how he’ll fall hopelessly in love with her, how she’ll look incredible doing it.

By the time we collapse onto the couch near the fireplace, I’m exhausted, not from work, but from listening.

She’s still going.

Highly offended that I’m gatekeeping him.

Eventually, mercifully, the topic finally changes.

“So,” she says, nudging me, “what about Kaden? That man refuses to give up, huh?”

I groan dramatically and scream into a pillow.

“He’s relentless. And Father doesn’t help. He’s convinced Kaden and I are destined to get married, have dusty-blonde children, and live in some manicured nightmare with a white picket fence.”

She snorts. “Has Dad actually said that? Or is this your own tragic fantasy?”

“Are you insane? I would rather spend the rest of my life—”

“Good Lord!”

She bolts upright so fast, I nearly fall off the couch.

“What—?”

Then I see him.

Standing a few feet away like he owns the cabin.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, scrambling to my feet.

His expression is cool. Sharp.

“If you planned on starving me to death,” he says evenly, “why take a bullet out of me in the first place?”

Allison lets out a dreamy sigh. “He’s so hot, I can’t breathe.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, shoving her lightly before hurrying toward him. “You cannot be down here. Go back upstairs. I’ll bring you food.”

He gives me a look that clearly translates to: I don’t take orders.

“Where’s the kitchen?”

Before I can answer, Allison eagerly points it out.

Traitor.

He strides past me like he’s been here a hundred times before. Tall. Broad. Completely out of place in the soft wood-and-stone warmth of the cabin.

Allison starts walking after him.

I instantly grab her arm. “Go upstairs and stand watch. If anyone comes out of their room, make noise or something."

“What? No! Why can’t you—”

“Allison.”

She groans dramatically but obeys, stomping up the stairs.

I hurry into the kitchen.

The man is already rummaging through the refrigerator like an irritated bear.

“Do you have anything worth eating?” he asks, not even looking at me.

The fridge light casts sharp shadows across his face. He looks dangerous against the domestic backdrop. Like a weapon left on a dining table.

“We had avocado sandwiches for dinner,” I say cautiously. “I can make one for you.”

“I’m allergic.”

“To bread?”

His eyes snap to mine. “Don’t be f*****g stupid. To avocado.”

Heat floods my cheeks. In my defense, people can be allergic to bread.

“Get a pot,” he says, turning around.

He’s holding a box of mac and cheese that he fished out of the cupboards.

“You can’t cook that now,” I whisper urgently. “It’ll take too long. My father might—”

“If I don’t eat in the next few minutes,” he cuts in calmly, “you won’t have a f*****g father in the morning.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

He says it so casually.

Like he’s commenting on the weather.

Fear crawls up my spine.

I don’t know him. And I’m not about to test how serious he is.

I grab a pot.

For the next fifteen minutes, I watch him cook.

He moves comfortably. Confidently. Stirring, draining, mixing like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Like he doesn’t have a fresh bullet wound stitched.

Like he doesn’t belong to a world that terrifies me.

When he finishes, he plates some and slides it toward me.

“Cutlery?”

“Of course we have—”

I stop myself.

He’s baiting me. And I'm not gonna let him.

I grab a fork from the drawer and hand it to him.

He arches a brow. “Are you eating with your hands?”

I blink. “Eating what?”

Annoyance flickers across his face. “Are you slow, or do you think playing stupid is cute?”

The words hit harder than I expect.

Embarrassment burns in my chest.

“I’m not hungry,” I say stiffly as he pushes the plate toward me.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. I served you. You’re going to eat. Now be a good girl and pick up your plate. And let's go”

The audacity.

And yet—

I pick up the plate.

Like a good girl

Jesus!

With the actual pot in his hand and the bottle of sauce in his other hand, he headed for the stairs and I follow him

Allison blocks my way to the door, dramatically. “This is so unfair! Why do you get to have dinner with him?”

“Because I helped him cook,” I reply sweetly. Provoking.

Her face flushes red. “I'm gonna tell mom. Better, I’m telling Dad!”

I laugh softly. “Go get a fork.”

Her anger evaporates instantly. “Yay!”

She runs off.

Nik sits on the couch, leaning forward, pot on the coffee table.

“What?” he mutters without looking up. “Never seen a man eat?”

I roll my eyes.

He's damn infuriating.

Allison swoops in and steals the plate from my hands before I can even move.

She plops down on the rug at his feet, smiling up at him like he’s a celebrity granting a private audience.

He pauses mid-chew, looks at her, and to my surprise, he doesn’t insult her or say something rude.

He just looks away.

I hover awkwardly. Where do I even go to sit?

There’s no way I’m sitting beside him on the only couch in the room.

And I have way to much dignity, to kneel on the rug before him like a worshipper.

"Can I please have the sauce?" Allison ask, too sweetly, too flirtatiously.

Nik hands it over to her and she whispers a thank you like it was her moment to shine and make him fall for her.

I feel embarrassed for her.

Eventually, I walk over and sit next to Allison on the rug.

We must look so ridiculous.

“So, are you like married?” Allison asks brightly.

I shoot her a warning look. "I'm just asking, I wouldn’t want your wife worrying, that's all.” she adds innocently.

That's definitely not all.

Nik glances at me like this is my fault.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me. But you can eat least tell me if you're Sicilian or Italian? It's quite confusing sometimes to know exactly--"

“Sicilian,” he answers, curtly.

Allison lights up like he handed her a crown.

Then she talks.

And talks.

And talks.

Until—

“Can you do me the courtesy of shutting the f**k up, now?”

The air freezes.

Allison goes silent instantly.

My chest burns. And when she looks at me, my big sister heart couldn't take it.

"Listen, it's already been proven that you are an asshole but you don't have to be one to her," I snap. "We brought you into our home. The least you can do is show basic respect."

He tilts his head slightly, studying me.

Like he’s recalibrating.

Like he didn’t expect me to push back.

The tension stretches between us. Thick. Heavy. Charged.

Knock!

Allison’s hand clamps onto mine.

Another knock.

Louder.

My blood runs cold.

“You need to hide,” I whisper urgently.

Nik doesn’t move. He keeps eating like it was his last meal.

“What?”

“In the bathroom. Now. Please.”

He looks almost amused.

Finally, he stands and disappears down to the bathroom.

“I’ll hide with him,” Allison whispers eagerly.

Even in terror, I burst out laughing.

“Arya? Allison?”

Dad’s voice booms through the door.

I hesitate for a second before I open it.

He stands there, stern and suspicious.

“Why are you still awake? Kaden says he heard a man’s voice.”

Damn you, Kaden.

“I was on a work call, it was on speakerphone” I say quickly. “Allison and I were just catching up.”

I can feel my face burning.

I've always been a terrible liar.

His eyes scan the room.

Pause on the pot.

“Why is that there?”

“We got hungry,” Allison chirps. “We made mac and cheese.”

He studies us for a long moment.

Then: “Go to bed.”

The door closes softly behind him.

Allison and I stare at each other.

And then we burst into nervous laughter.

It’s shaky. Hysterical. Relieved.

Until the bathroom door opens.

Nik steps back into the room, expression flat.

Annoyed.

Like we’re children who inconvenienced him.

✦ ───────── ✦

Okay but let’s discuss:

Kick Nik out immediately.

Hide him forever.

Allison needs to back OFF.

Why was that ‘good girl’ line kinda—👀

I want opinions. Loud ones.