The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 115 - One Hundred and Fifteen

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

Alicia’s POV

I was carrying the basket of yarn down the hallway when I saw him.

Malachi was coming from the opposite direction. His eyes locked on mine immediately. Dark. Intense. Like he’d been looking for me.

My heart kicked against my ribs. I told myself to keep walking. To look away. To pretend I didn’t feel the pull between us.

I didn’t listen to myself.

We met in the middle of the hallway. Both stopped. The basket felt heavy in my arms. Or maybe that was just the weight of everything unsaid between us.

"Alicia." His voice was low. Rough.

"Malachi."

He stepped closer. Too close. I could smell him. Could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could see the way his jaw tensed like he was holding himself back.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said.

"I haven’t."

"You have."

He was right. I had been. Since the kiss. Since his hands on my skin. Since I’d almost let him do more in broad daylight where anyone could see.

"We can’t do this," I whispered.

"Do what?"

"This. Whatever this is. We can’t."

"I know."

But he stepped closer anyway. His hand came up. Brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was so gentle it made my chest ache.

I looked up at him. Saw the want in his eyes. The hunger. The same thing I felt burning inside me.

He leaned down. His breath ghosted across my lips. I should have stepped back. Should have pushed him away.

I didn’t move.

His mouth was almost on mine when footsteps echoed down the hallway.

We jumped apart. The basket slipped from my hands. Yarn spilled everywhere. Balls of colored thread rolling across the floor in every direction.

Cecilia appeared around the corner. She stopped when she saw us. Looked at the mess. Then at Malachi. Then at me.

"Oh no. Let me help." She hurried forward and started gathering the yarn.

I dropped to my knees. Started picking up balls of thread with shaking hands. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

That was too close. Way too close.

Malachi crouched down. Started helping. His hand brushed mine when we both reached for the same ball of yarn. The touch sent electricity through me.

I pulled my hand back like I’d been burned.

Cecilia chatted while we cleaned up. Something about the weather. About how nice the mansion was. About knitting.

I barely heard her. All I could focus on was Malachi. On how close we’d just come to kissing. On how badly I still wanted to.

We gathered the last of the yarn. I stood up. Took the basket from Cecilia with a forced smile.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Are you heading to the sitting room? All the women are gathering to knit."

"Yes. That’s where I was going."

"I’ll walk with you."

She linked her arm through mine. Started walking. I glanced back at Malachi. He was watching me. That dark look still in his eyes.

I forced myself to turn away.

The sitting room was warm. Bright. Isabella, Layla, Sasha, and Sophie were already there. Each had claimed a chair. Yarn and needles spread out around them.

Sophie looked up when we entered. Smiled. "Finally. We were waiting for you."

I set the basket down. Took a seat near the window. Cecilia sat beside me. Started sorting through colors.

Layla was already talking. Her voice sharp. Directed at Cecilia.

"You know, there are traditions in this family. Rules. Pa Wood expects them to be followed."

Cecilia looked up. "Of course. I respect that."

"Do you? Because outsiders don’t always understand. Don’t always appreciate how things work here."

"Mother," Sophie said softly. Warning.

Layla ignored her. "Pa Wood is only nice to certain people. Malachi. Alicia. Sophie. The rest of us have to earn it. Have to prove ourselves worthy."

I focused on my knitting. Tried to ignore the tension building in the room.

"And if someone disobeys him?" Cecilia asked. Her voice was steady. Calm.

"Then they’re banished. Cut off. Pa Wood doesn’t tolerate disrespect."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

Isabella said nothing. Just kept knitting. Her needles clicking in steady rhythm.

Sasha was glaring at everyone. Her usual expression. She hated being here. Hated the family gatherings. Hated everything.

Sophie tried to change the subject. "Alicia, that color looks beautiful on you."

I glanced down at the yarn in my hands. Deep blue. Like the ocean.

"Thanks."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it. Kept knitting.

It buzzed again.

I pulled it out. Glanced at the screen. Unknown number. A text message.

Miss me?

My blood ran cold. The yarn slipped from my fingers.

No. Please no.

It couldn’t be him. He didn’t have my new number. I’d changed it. Made sure he couldn’t contact me.

But who else would send something like that?

My hands started shaking. I stared at the message. Tried to calm my racing heart.

"Alicia? Are you okay?" Sophie’s voice pulled me back.

I looked up. Everyone was watching me.

"I’m fine. Just a weird text."

"From who?"

"I don’t know. Unknown number."

My phone buzzed again. This time a call. Same unknown number.

I stared at it. Watched it ring. Every instinct screamed at me not to answer.

It could be Robert. My father. The man I’d spent years running from. The man who’d made my childhood a nightmare.

He’d been on the loose. Disappeared after his last arrest. No one knew where he was.

What if he’d found me? What if he knew where I was?

The call went to voicemail. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

"You look pale," Cecilia said. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"I’m fine. Really."

But I wasn’t. I was terrified. The phone felt like a weight in my hand. A threat.

I shoved it back in my pocket. Picked up my knitting. Tried to focus.

Layla was still talking about family traditions. About Pa Wood’s expectations. About what it meant to be a Blackwood.

I tuned her out. Kept replaying that message in my head.

Miss me?

Two words that could destroy everything.

Cecilia leaned closer. Her voice low enough that only I could hear. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I looked at her. Really looked at her. She seemed genuine. Concerned.

"Not right now."

"Okay. But if you need to, I’m here."

I nodded. Went back to knitting.

The room fell into a comfortable silence. Just the sound of needles clicking. The occasional comment about patterns or colors.

After a while, Layla and Isabella got up. Said something about checking on dinner. Sasha followed. Probably just to escape.

Sophie stayed for a few more minutes. Then she got a text from a friend. Excused herself with a bright smile.

That left just me and Cecilia.

We knitted in silence for a while. It was peaceful. Almost normal.

"Can I ask you something?" Cecilia said.

"Sure."

"That text. The one that scared you. Was it from someone dangerous?"

I hesitated. Didn’t know how much to share. Didn’t know if I could trust her.

But something in her eyes made me want to talk. Made me feel like she’d understand.

"Maybe. I don’t know. My father. He’s not a good person."

"Abusive?"

"Very."

She nodded slowly. "I’m sorry. That’s terrible."

"It’s in the past. Mostly."

"But it still affects you."

"Always."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "My childhood wasn’t great either. Different reasons. But still hard."

"What happened?"

"My mother died giving birth to me. My father never forgave me for it. He provided for me. Gave me everything money could buy. But he never loved me. Never looked at me without seeing the woman he lost."

My chest tightened. "My mother died the same way. Giving birth to my brother. My father blamed her. Blamed me for existing. For being another mouth to feed. Another responsibility."

"It makes you hate them, doesn’t it? The fathers who couldn’t see past their own pain."

"Yes. It makes me hate him more. Every day. Every time I think about what he did to us. To me and Sophie."

Cecilia’s hands stilled on her knitting. "My father died recently. And I thought I’d feel relief. Thought I’d finally be free. But instead, I just feel empty. Like I’m still waiting for his approval even though he’s gone."

"I understand that. The waiting. The hoping they’ll change. Knowing they never will."

"Exactly."

We looked at each other. A moment of connection. Of understanding.

She’d lived through something similar. Knew what it felt like to have a parent who should have protected you but didn’t.

"Do you ever wonder if we’re broken?" I asked. "Because of them?"

"All the time. But then I think maybe we’re just surviving. And that’s enough."

"Is it?"

"It has to be."

I went back to my knitting. The rhythm was soothing. Gave my hands something to do while my mind raced.

My phone was still in my pocket. Silent now. But the threat remained.

Miss me?

Who was it? What did they want?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was coming. Something I couldn’t control.

"Thank you," I said suddenly.

Cecilia looked up. "For what?"

"For understanding. For not pushing when I didn’t want to talk."

"Of course. We all have our demons. The least we can do is support each other."

"Even though we barely know each other?"

"Sometimes strangers are easier to talk to than family."

She was right. Family came with expectations. With judgment. With history.

Cecilia was outside all that. Safe.

"Can I ask you something now?" I said.

"Sure."

"Do you believe people can change? Really change?"

She thought about it. "I think people can grow. Can become better versions of themselves. But change? Real change? That’s harder. That requires wanting to be different. And most people are comfortable with who they are. Even when they shouldn’t be."

"That’s depressing."

"Maybe. But it’s also realistic."

I nodded. She was probably right.

We knitted in silence again. The afternoon sun streaming through the windows. The sound of distant voices from other parts of the mansion.

"Alicia?" Cecilia said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Whatever’s happening with that text. Whatever you’re worried about. You’re not alone. Okay?"

I looked at her. Saw the sincerity in her eyes.

"Okay."

"I mean it. If you need help. If you need someone to talk to. I’m here."

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome."