Six Months Living With My Adopted Brother

"If I may continue," he tried again, voice rising slightly, like that would make the situation any better. "The estate has specific conditions. Miss Kingston and Mr. Castillo must reside in the primary property... together... for a minimum of six months."

Loretta Kingston crossed her legs and glared at the lawyer like he was the one who ruined her life.

Like he was the one who let Martin Castillo into it in the first place. Which, okay, wasn't true. But still, she needed someone to blame since she couldn't blame her dead mother.

The lawyer cleared his throat, nervous. That made her smile. At least someone was sweating.

Across the mahogany table sat Martin, arms folded, jaw locked. Looking like he hadn't slept. Still smug though. Still existing, which was offense enough.

"Miss Kingston, I'm sorry," the lawyer said, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "But the clause is non-negotiable. The conditions of your mother's will are very clear..."

"She hated me," Loretta snapped.

"No...," he mumbled.

Martin let out a soft chuckle. Of course he would laugh.

"You're not exactly a ray of sunshine, Lore," he said, leaning back in his chair like he owned the damn office. Like this was a business meeting and not her actual hell.

She turned to him, slow and lethal. "You don't get to talk to me."

He smirked. "You mad I didn't visit you on time?"

"You mad your brain never developed past age sixteen?"

"Still smarter than you."

"Still breathing. Tragic."

The lawyer looked like he wanted to disappear into his folder.

"If I may continue," he tried, voice rising slightly, like that would help. "The estate has specific conditions. Miss Kingston and Mr. Castillo must reside in the primary property...together...for a minimum of six months."

Loretta blinked. "You're telling me," she said slowly, voice dripping with disbelief, "that I have to live with Martin Castillo, the walking definition of emotional constipation, for six months just to get what my mother left me?"

"Yes."

"Like, under the same roof?"

"Yes."

"Like, breathing the same oxygen?"

"Miss Kingston..."

"Oh, I'm gonna vomit."

Martin leaned in, elbows on the table, grin wider. "What, no celebratory shots? This is the most quality time we've ever had."

She shoved her chair back and started pacing the conference room. The same stupid painting on the wall; two deer in a field or something kept staring at her like, yeah, you're screwed.

Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She ignored it.

"This is insane. My mom wouldn't do this to me."

"Your mother was... very intentional in her final wishes," the lawyer offered.

Loretta turned slowly, narrowed her eyes. "Intentional? You mean deranged."

Martin shrugged. "I dunno. I think it's kind of cute. She wanted us to bond."

"I will light you on fire."

"You tried that once. Didn't stick."

The lawyer cleared his throat again. This man was probably rethinking law school.

"She knows I hate him. Hated. Present tense. Future tense. All the tenses."

"Hate's such a strong word," Martin said, resting his chin on his hand. "You used to have a thing for me, remember?"

Loretta froze.

There it was.

The moment her brain begged her not to remember, but her body already had.

Loretta gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her from launching across the room and choking someone.

Preferably the smug bastard sitting two seats away, legs sprawled out like he owned the damn building.

"Why him?" she asked quietly, eyes still locked on the idiot.

The lawyer opened his mouth, hesitated.

Martin didn't.

"Because I'm irresistible," he said, voice low, smooth, and laced with that signature arrogance that made Loretta want to throw her iced latte in his face.

She didn't look at him. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But her hands tightened around the table edge. Hard. She pictured his face and her fist meeting. It helped.

The lawyer cleared his throat. "It's... in your mother's letter. Would you like to read it?"

"No."

"But..."

"I said no."

"You sure?"

That voice. That damn voice.

Martin leaned back in his chair, arms spread like he was posing for a magazine cover, that lazy smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Might be fun watching you spiral. We could frame it."

Loretta glared. "Don't you have some toxic ex to go bother?"

"You're my toxic ex."

"That was one night and half a bottle of tequila."

"And the best night of your life."

She whipped her gaze to the lawyer. "Do I have to live with him? Or is there a refund policy on this inheritance? Because honestly, I'd rather chew glass."

"The clause is non-negotiable," the lawyer said, nervously adjusting his tie again.

Loretta pressed her palms to her eyes. "My mother really hated me."

"No," Martin said, sitting forward now, tone annoyingly casual. "She just had a twisted sense of humor."

"You mean she liked watching me suffer."

"She liked watching us suffer." He grinned. "Equal opportunity chaos."

She let out a laugh. "You're enjoying this."

"Oh, I'm thriving."

Loretta folded her arms. "You still live in that overpriced cement box in LA?"

"Penthouse," he corrected. "With a view. And a pool. And no emotionally damaged little sister throwing tantrums in every room."

"I wasn't your sister."

"You wanted to be something more."

She went still. Just for a second. "You know what? Fork. I'm bringing a fork. A sharp one."

"I'll wear Kevlar. You think I wanted this too?"

She blinked at him. "You're telling me you're not dying to shack up in a cozy house with your least favorite person on Earth? Wow. Progress."

"I'm saying this wasn't exactly my dream scenario either," he said.

"Oh, please. You probably bribed the old woman into writing it. Rub some fake tears on your cheeks and boom-inheritance conditions: torture Loretta for six months."

He leaned forward. "Trust me, if I wanted to torture you, sweetheart, I wouldn't need a will to do it."

A beat of silence. Her blood boiled. The lawyer looked like he wanted to disappear into the ficus plant in the corner.

The lawyer blinked between them. "Are you two always like this?" he asked.

"No," Loretta and Martin said at the same time.

Then looked at each other. Then away.

Martin shrugged. "It's worse when we're in the same room."

Loretta exhaled, slow and forced. "So let me get this straight. We have to live together. Six months. Same house. Same air."

"Same kitchen," Martin added. "Try not to poison my cereal."

"Don't tempt me."

"Can't help it."

She turned to the lawyer again, voice flat. "Tell me it's a mansion with twenty-seven bedrooms."

"It's... moderate."

Martin snorted. "It's a house, Lo. Not the Four Seasons."

"Don't call me that."

"What? Lo? You always liked it."

"When I was twelve and still thought you were cool."

His eyes sparkled. "You did think I was cool."

"I also used to eat glue."

Martin tilted his head, mock serious. "So what I'm hearing is you're finally admitting your crush."

Loretta rolled her eyes so hard her soul nearly left her body. "God, you're exhausting."

"Charming, actually."

"You keep using that word..."

"I'm a delight."

"You're a disease."

He grinned. "Still cute when you're angry."

She turned back to the lawyer. "And if I say no?"

"You forfeit your share."

Silence.

Loretta drummed her fingers on the armrest. Thought of all the scenarios where Martin had made her life a living nightmare.

Sixteen. He'd hacked her school email and sent a fake love confession to her math teacher.

Seventeen. He told everyone at a party that she had a foot fetish. (She didn't.)

Eighteen. He kissed her best friend at her graduation party just to piss her off.

Nineteen.

The night that haunted her.

The lawyer coughed. "If we could just confirm that you both agree to the terms..."

"I agree," Loretta said, through gritted teeth. "On one condition."

The lawyer blinked. "Which is?"

"If I stab him with a knife," she said, slowly, "you testify it was premeditated."

Martin leaned in, elbows on the table. "That's hot."

"Don't talk to me."

"Impossible. You're literally my favorite migraine."

Martin leaned over her shoulder, chin nearly brushing her hair. "You still smell like vanilla and vengeance."

She elbowed him. "Back off, Devil."

He laughed. Full and low and way too good. Like he didn't have the decency to sound like a villain.

Loretta slammed the folder shut. "Okay. This is done. I'm leaving before I commit a felony."

Martin stood too, stretching like he owned the air around him. "See you in Aspen."

She froze. "Wait...Aspen?"

He smiled, teeth sharp. "Didn't they tell you? House is in Colorado. Mountains. Snow. One bathroom."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're lying."

He winked. "Guess you'll find out."

Loretta turned to the lawyer. "If I push him off a ski slope, do I still get my money?"

The lawyer looked like he genuinely didn't know how to answer that.

"You say that, but we both remember how fast your morals vanished the last time we were alone." Martin said with a smirk.

"That night was a mistake."

Martin just slung his coat over his shoulder and strolled out, all effortless swagger and smug bastard energy.

Loretta stared after him, heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.

She hated him.

She really, really did.

Probably.

Maybe.

Ugh.

Fuck her life.