"You forget how hard it is to ignore someone who looks the way you do," He replied smoothly, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of us.
Running his large hands slowly down my arms before looping them around my waist possessively...
I've been asking myself that a lot lately. Maybe it's because every time I hear Ahvi's voice, it sends me into a tailspin.
Maybe it's because her opinion of me suddenly matters more than I want to admit. Or maybe it's because I've been losing sleep thinking about the way her eyes narrow when she's pissed off—like she's holding back some cutting remark she knows will gut me.
She's not just Ezra's little sister anymore, and that's the problem. She's more than that, and I can't pinpoint when it changed.
I can feel it in the way I keep looking for her approval, even when I know I don't need it. I've worked my ass off to prove myself—to Ezra, to my father, to everyone who thought I'd screw up the company the minute I took the reins. But now? Now I feel like I have something to prove to her.
And for what?
She barely looks at me unless it's to roll her eyes or throw some smartass comment my way.
But it's not just the tension between us. It's the way I can't stop thinking about her when she's not around. It's the way I catch myself noticing things I shouldn't—like how her laugh fills the entire penthouse, or how her socks never match, or how she bites her lip when she's concentrating on something.
I shouldn't care. I shouldn't care that she thinks I'm arrogant, or that she assumes I've got some kind of hidden agenda.
But I do.
And it's pissing me off.
And here I am, caught up in her sharp words and sideways looks like they mean something. Like I need to prove myself to her. How many times have I said that?
I don't. I shouldn't.
But every time she's around, it's like she drags the truth out of me—the good, the bad, and the shit I didn't even know was there. And I hate it.
I hate how she's under my skin. How I catch myself looking for her when I get home, wondering what she's thinking, wondering if she even sees me as more than the asshole best friend who used to make her life hell.
I don't know what's worse—the fact that she's got me all twisted up, or the fact that she doesn't even realize it.
For years, Ahvi was just Ezra's little sister. The one who followed us around when we were kids, always trying to keep up, always looking for some way to prove she wasn't just the tagalong. She annoyed the hell out of me back then. It wasn't personal; it was just what little sisters did. They existed to get in the way.
