My Best friend's Brother

When Trouble Calls

~Aaron~

“Dress up,” I said, tossing her dress over to her. She sat up on the bed, staring at me with wide eyes as she clutched the dress to her chest, shielding her breasts from view.

Not that I was looking anyway.

She regarded me quietly as I moved around the room, picking up my phone and wristwatch.

“Where are you going?” Angelina asked. I gritted my teeth, irritated.

“My study. I have work to catch up on,” I replied coolly. I was already dressed in simple black pants and a T-shirt.

Ever since I returned to Brooklyn, work had been my escape—my way of keeping my mind off things I had no business dwelling on.

Like a certain green-eyed woman with red hair who’d been invading my thoughts all week with the most inappropriate images.

Angelina narrowed her eyes at me. She leaned forward, her breasts mirroring the movement. My eyes darted to them for a split second before I quickly looked away.

Angelina had a stunning body, as expected of a model and fashionista. She had the kind of figure that turned heads: full breasts, a slender waist, and a perfectly rounded backside, all topped with a beautiful face.

But beneath all that beauty was a monster.

“Aaron, we just had s*x. You can't leave just like that,” she snapped. I glanced at her while fastening my wristwatch.

“As far as I know, you don't get to dictate what I do. Yes, we had s*x, but that doesn’t mean we’re joined at the hip,” I said dryly, returning my attention to my watch.

The truth was, my mind had been preoccupied with images of another woman during our time in bed. Though it wasn’t fair to her, I didn’t care.

She pursed her lips. “It’s 6 p.m. You spent the entire day at work, and now you’re running off again? When do you ever have time for me? We’re in a relationship, Aaron—not just casual acquaintances or friends with benefits,” she said, crossing her arms over her bare chest and tossing the dress aside.

Finally, I turned my full attention to her. She tipped her chin up defiantly, though I caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes. No one could withstand the weight of my full attention except one person. Of course.

“I have a lot to do, Angelina. If you’re bored, you can chat with the housekeeper. Martha’s nice, by the way,” I said. Anger flashed in her eyes.

“I don’t want to sit with your housekeeper, making small talk about...” She scrunched her nose and waved her hands. “...absolute nonsense. I just want to cuddle with my boyfriend!” Her voice rose a notch.

I regarded her coolly, wondering if she truly meant it or if this was another of her schemes to manipulate me. Besides, I wasn’t a fan of cuddling.

Lounging around in bed and whispering sweet nothings? No thanks. I had more important things to do.

Before I could respond, my phone rang. Angelina raised a brow at me.

“I have to take this,” I said, staring at the unknown number flashing on the screen. It might be one of the contractors who’d promised to call.

I swiped the green button as she opened her mouth to speak, lifting the phone to my ear.

“Aaron Thompson. Zenith Crypt Securities,” I said, my tone professional and crisp. There was a pause on the line before a familiar feminine voice came through.

“Hi,” she drawled. I raised a brow, pulling the phone away to check the number again.

“Rhoda?” I asked. She let out a short, nervous laugh.

She was calling from a different number. It was 6 p.m. in New York, but I knew it was past midnight in Spain.

A lead weight settled in my stomach as I straightened up.

“What did you do?” I asked, my tone laced with a biting chill. I could picture her shaking her head frantically.

“I didn’t do anything... I mean, I...” She trailed off, and my anger began to simmer.

“Is Joan with you?” I asked, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on my tongue. Angelina tilted her head to the side, her brown hair falling with the motion.

There was a pause, followed by muffled Spanish words and mumbling.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Rhoda said timidly. I could clearly hear Joan’s voice in the background.

“You have ten minutes, miss,” a masculine voice cut in. I gritted my teeth.

I waited for an explanation from Rhoda. If they’d gotten themselves into trouble again... So help me God.

“There was a little misunderstanding,” she began hesitantly.

“A misunderstanding? Past midnight? Shouldn’t you both be at home?” I asked. Rhoda sighed.

“We went sightseeing, and... a few things happened. We got arrested,” she admitted, and my simmering anger boiled over.

“Arrested?” I asked coldly. Rhoda fell silent. Who the hell goes sightseeing at midnight in a country they barely know?

“Like I said, it was a misunderstanding, Aaron,” she said, which only fueled my fury.

“Your time is almost up,” the man announced, and I heard a string of curses followed by a yelp.

“We need you to bail us out,” Joan’s voice cut in. The confidence laced in it made my c**k twitched. Yeah, he f*****g recognized her.

“And what makes you think I will?” I asked. She huffed, likely rolling her eyes—typical of her, even in trouble.

“Because you wouldn’t let your sister rot in jail,” she retorted. My lips curled into a slight smirk.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked. She went silent. I take that as a yes.

“Give the phone back to Rhoda,” I commanded, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Rhoda’s voice returned. “Aaron, please,” she pleaded, but it did nothing to quell my anger.

“I swear, Rhoda, you won’t like me if I come to Spain,” I warned. This wasn’t a threat—it was a promise. It was time to rein her in.

Freezing her accounts and limiting her freedom would be the first steps. She’d learn to act like a responsible 25-year-old instead of a reckless teenager. As for Joan...

My c**k stirred again at the thought of her. I could think of quite a few ways to punish her.

I ended the call and took a deep breath.

“What happened?” Angelina asked, her curiosity genuine. I clenched my jaw, dialing another number.

“Emergency,” I replied curtly, not wanting her to press for details. Lifting the phone to my ear, I said, “Prepare the jet.” After a brief confirmation, I ended the call.

One thing was certain—they wouldn’t like me when I arrived in Spain.