The storm was a beast outside, a feral thing clawing at the city with sheets of rain and jagged streaks of lightning. At 9:30 PM, the world beyond Alasba’s penthouse was a chaotic blur, the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bedroom trembling under the relentless assault of water and wind. Inside, though, the air was warm, heavy with the lingering steam of her recent shower. Dim golden light spilled from a single bedside lamp, casting long, dramatic shadows across the room as thunder growled like a predator in the distance.
Alasba emerged from the en-suite bathroom, her skin still flushed and dewy, droplets of water tracing lazy paths down her toned shoulders. A plush white towel clung to her frame, barely knotted at her chest, as she shuffled toward her bed with the kind of exhaustion that only a twelve-hour workday could inflict. She didn’t bother with grace, collapsing face-down onto the silken sheets with a groan, her body sinking into the mattress. The towel, already precariously positioned, shifted with her movement, riding up just enough to reveal the smooth, full curve of her backside—a sight both accidental and utterly magnetic.
She didn’t hear the faint creak of her bedroom door, left slightly ajar in her haste to crash. Nor did she notice the hesitant footsteps of Emir, her younger brother by a mere two years, who had been pacing the penthouse halls in a restless funk. Boredom and curiosity had drawn him toward her room, a casual check-in on his sister after her grueling day. But when he nudged the door open and caught sight of her sprawled out, half-exposed in the flickering stormlight, he froze. His breath caught somewhere between his throat and his chest, eyes widening as a cocktail of shock and forbidden intrigue surged through him. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be seeing this. And yet, his feet refused to move.
Outside, lightning split the sky, illuminating the room in a stark flash, and Alasba stirred. Her face, half-buried in a pillow, twitched as she mumbled, voice thick with sleep but sharp with her trademark bite. “What the hell, Emir? You’re such a creepy little spy.”
Emir jolted, his attempt at stealth crumbling as he stammered, “I—I wasn’t spying! I just… the door was open, and I thought you might’ve, uh, needed something.” His words tripped over themselves, his usual suave demeanor nowhere to be found as he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to look anywhere but at her.
Alasba’s lips curled into a smirk as she pushed herself up slightly, rolling onto her side with a deliberate slowness that made the towel slip just a fraction more before she clutched it to her chest. Her dark eyes, now fully awake, gleamed with mischief as she propped herself on one elbow, studying him like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. “Oh, please. Needed something? The only thing I need is for you to stop gawking like a deer in headlights. Or are you just gonna stand there and pretend you didn’t see what you saw?”
Emir’s face flushed a shade darker than the storm clouds outside, and he rubbed the back of his neck, scrambling for footing. “I didn’t see anything. I mean, not on purpose. I’m not some perv, Al. I just… walked in at the wrong time.”
“Wrong time?” she echoed, her voice dripping with mock indignation as she sat up fully, the towel now a precarious shield against her curves. “Sweetie, there’s no such thing as the wrong time when you’ve got eyes like a damn hawk. Don’t play innocent with me. I know you’ve been sneaking around this penthouse like you own the place.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a raised hand, her smirk widening into something dangerous, something that made the air between them crackle hotter than the storm outside. “Relax, little brother. I’m not gonna bite… yet. But since you’re here, why don’t you make yourself useful for once? My robe’s on the chair over there. Fetch it for me.”
Emir blinked, caught off guard by the command in her tone. There was no room for argument in her voice, just the cool, confident expectation that he’d comply. He hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the chair across the room, as if moving might somehow shatter the fragile tension hanging between them. “You’re… serious? You can’t just get it yourself?”
Alasba arched a brow, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. “Oh, I could. But where’s the fun in that? Come on, Emir. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little errand. Or are you scared of getting too close?” Her voice dropped lower on that last bit, teasing, testing, each word laced with a daring edge that made his pulse quicken.
He scoffed, trying to mask the way her words sent a jolt through him. “Scared? Of you? Please. You’re about as intimidating as a wet kitten.” But even as he spoke, he moved toward the chair, snatching the silk robe with a little more force than necessary. He turned back to her, holding it out like a peace offering, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty. “Here. Happy now, Your Highness?”
She laughed, a low, throaty sound that seemed to vibrate with the thunder outside. “Oh, I’m getting there. But you’ve got a long way to go if you think a robe’s gonna earn you any points.” She took it from him, her fingers brushing his just long enough to make him flinch, though she didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. “You know, for someone who claims he’s not staring, you’ve got a hell of a lot of trouble keeping your eyes to yourself.”
“I’m not—” he started, but the words died as she stood, the towel still clutched with one hand while she draped the robe over her shoulders with the other. The movement was fluid, deliberate, and for a split second, the storm’s lightning illuminated her silhouette against the window, a vision of power and allure that rooted him to the spot.
“Save it,” she interrupted, tying the robe with a casual flick of her wrists, though her gaze never left his. “I’ve got enough on my plate without dealing with your guilty conscience. But let’s get one thing straight, little brother—if you’re gonna sneak around my room, at least have the guts to own it. I don’t play games with cowards.”
The thunder rumbled again, a deep, resonant boom that seemed to echo the storm brewing between them. Emir swallowed hard, caught in the crosshairs of her words and the electric pull of the moment. He knew he should leave, should step back across the invisible line of sibling boundaries, but something in her smirk, in the way she stood there like a queen commanding her court, held him fast.
For now, the storm outside was no match for the one inside.
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