Joshua's hand was cool and dry around hers as he led her up the stone steps of the portico. She could feel the faint, damp tremor in his palm, a tell-tale sign of the tension he was trying so hard to hide.

"Nervous?" she murmured, her voice too low for anyone else to hear. "Afraid I'll mess it up?"

"I'm just strategizing the most effective way to introduce you," he said, his eyes fixed on the massive oak doors ahead.

"So, my job is to act out, piss them off, and clear the way for your beloved Gwyneth. Got it."

His jaw tightened. He hated the way her name sounded coming from Avery's lips. "Just do what you're paid for."

Suddenly, a savage roar cut through the serene afternoon quiet. An engine, screaming in protest.

A black Aston Martin DB11 shot into the circular driveway, moving far too fast. It executed a perfect, tire-squealing drift, swinging its tail around to stop precisely in front of them, blocking their path.

The sheer arrogance of the arrival made Avery's brow furrow.

Joshua's face went dark. He muttered a curse under his breath. "What is he doing back?" The disgust in his voice was thick.

"Who?" Avery asked.

The driver's side door swung open and a long leg, encased in a perfectly tailored suit, emerged.

"My brother," Joshua said, his voice turning to ice. "Brodie. The Stanley family's professional disaster."

Avery's gaze traveled up from the expensive shoe to the tall, powerful frame of the man who now leaned against the car. He didn't get out right away. He took his time, pulling a cigarette from his jacket and lighting it with a lazy, dangerous grace.

Joshua instinctively pulled Avery a half-step behind him, a protective gesture that was purely for show. "Stay away from him," he warned in a low voice. "He's... volatile. Don't provoke him."

Avery was only half-listening, her attention fixed on the silhouette of the man by the car.

The word "volatile" barely scratched the surface. Joshua's tone held a deeper warning, a history of chaos he had no intention of sharing with a hired actress. But for Avery, a different set of words was echoing in her mind, a story she knew all too well.

Six months ago. The night before his birthday. Humiliated.

The words hit Avery like individual stones. A cold dread, sharp and sickening, shot up from the soles of her feet.

Her mind went white. The world tilted on its axis. She couldn't hear what Joshua was saying anymore.

The man by the car finally looked up, exhaling a plume of smoke into the twilight air. The fading sun carved his profile into sharp relief, all hard angles and shadows. That face...

Avery's breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like it had been seized by an icy fist, squeezing until she couldn't breathe.

No. It can't be. It's impossible. The world isn't this small. It can't be this cruel.

Joshua felt her stiffen beside him. He glanced down. "What's wrong? You're white as a sheet."

She couldn't form a word. Her legs felt like they were about to give out from under her.

Brodie finally turned his gaze toward them. His eyes, dark and penetrating, swept over them with a look of bored disdain.

And Avery knew.

He was the man she had spent the last six months running from. The nightmare she thought she had escaped.

He was Brodie.

Under the weight of Brodie's gaze, Avery's blood turned to ice.

She took a single, instinctive step back, trying to use Joshua's body as a shield. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but in the charged silence, it was as loud as a scream.

A smirk, thin and cruel, touched Brodie's lips. He clearly interpreted her retreat as fear of his presence, a tribute to his reputation.

Joshua, on the other hand, saw it as part of the act. The timid, overwhelmed girlfriend. It was a stark contrast to the provocateur in the car, and he decided to use it.

He wrapped an arm around Avery's waist, pulling her flush against his side. The gesture was possessive, a clear message to his brother.

Avery's body was rigid, but she let herself be pulled, pressing her face into the hollow of Joshua's shoulder. It was the perfect way to hide.

Joshua felt the fine tremor running through her and, mistaking it for nervous acting, felt a bizarre and unwelcome flicker of protectiveness.

He lifted his chin, staring his brother down. "Back so soon, Brodie? Did you come all this way just to welcome me home?"

Brodie dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his heel. He pushed off the car and started toward them, his walk a slow, predatory saunter that ate up the distance between them.

His eyes flicked over Joshua and then landed, with heavy contempt, on Avery. "Is this your new toy? Which gutter did you dredge her up from?"

The words were a slap, dripping with classist disdain.

Avery pressed her face deeper into Joshua's suit jacket, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain, obscuring her profile.

Rage, cold and sharp, flashed in Joshua's eyes. He hated that arrogant, dismissive tone more than anything.

His arm tightened around Avery's waist, pulling her impossibly closer. Then he dropped the bomb.

"Show some respect, Brodie. She's not a toy." Joshua's voice was clear and loud, ringing across the manicured lawn. "She's my future fiancée, Avery Hopkins."

In the circle of his arm, Avery went completely still. She could feel her own heart stop. Fiancée? That wasn't in the contract.

Brodie's steady advance faltered. He stopped a few feet away, the mocking expression on his face freezing for a fraction of a second. His gaze sharpened, zeroing in on Avery again, as if trying to burn through her curtain of hair and see the face she was hiding.

"Avery?" He repeated the name, his voice a low rumble, a hint of something other than mockery in it. A flicker of inquiry.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. That name. He would remember that name.

Joshua saw his brother's hesitation and felt a surge of triumph. He'd hit his mark.

"That's right. We're getting married. So you can drop the charming welcome."

Brodie stared at them for a few long, silent seconds. His scrutiny was a physical weight, pressing down on Avery, making it hard to breathe.

Then, he let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound utterly devoid of humor.

"Fiancée? Well, Joshua. Your taste is certainly... evolving." The insult was still there, but the focus had shifted.

He didn't press further. He stepped to the side, clearing the path to the front door.

"Go on in, then," Brodie said, a new, dangerous amusement in his eyes. "I can't wait to see the look on Father's face when he meets her."

It wasn't a retreat. It was an invitation. An invitation into his territory, into his home. Into the cage she had just been locked into.

Joshua took Avery's hand, his grip firm, and led her past his brother, toward the heavy oak doors of the house.

The moment the front doors closed behind them, the cavernous marble foyer seemed to amplify the silence. Eleanor Finch, the housekeeper with a spine of steel and eyes that missed nothing, gave a stiff, formal nod.

Joshua released Avery, leaning in to whisper, "Good work. Keep it up." He was referring to her 'shy' act outside.

Avery fought the urge to laugh hysterically. That wasn't an act. It was pure, unadulterated terror.

She was just starting to breathe again when she heard the soft click of the door behind them and the sound of Brodie's unhurried footsteps on the marble.

He tossed his car keys to a waiting footman without a glance, his attention locked on Avery's back.

"Stop."

The word was quiet, but it carried the absolute authority of a man who had never been disobeyed.

Avery and Joshua froze, turning in unison.

Joshua's brow furrowed in annoyance. "What do you want now, Brodie?"

Brodie ignored him. He walked directly to Avery, stopping so close she had to crane her neck back to see his face. He was a mountain, casting a shadow that swallowed her whole.

"My brother's fiancée," he said, his voice a low purr that did nothing to hide the sharpness of his gaze. "I think I should get a proper look at her, don't you?"

He stared pointedly at her downcast head, at the hair still shielding her face. "Look at me."

Avery's body began to tremble, a violent, uncontrollable shiver. If she looked up, it was over. Everything was over.

Joshua stepped forward, placing himself between them. "Brodie, that's enough. She doesn't like strangers staring at her."

"Strangers?" Brodie's laugh was a cold, sharp sound. "I'm about to be her brother-in-law." He reached out, his fingers aiming to grab her chin and force her to look at him.

Panic, white-hot and absolute, exploded in Avery's mind. She had to do something. Now.

In the split second before his fingers made contact, she made the wildest, most reckless decision of her life.

She surged upward. Not toward Brodie, but toward Joshua.

Her hands flew around Joshua's neck, she went up on her toes, and she smashed her mouth against his.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a collision. A desperate, frantic act of concealment, fueled by pure survival instinct.

Joshua's brain short-circuited. He stood there, frozen in shock, as she kissed him. Her lips were soft, trembling, and cold with fear, but the pressure was fierce, demanding, as if she were trying to merge with him, to disappear inside him.

The kiss did more than just block Brodie's view. It silenced the entire room.

Brodie's hand froze in mid-air. His eyes widened, his pupils contracting into pinpricks of disbelief and something else. Something much darker.

He stared, his jaw clenched, at the scene unfolding before him. At the woman who was so aggressively, so possessively, kissing his younger brother.

The kiss was a perfect, maddening shield. From Brodie's vantage point, all he could see was the sharp angle of her jaw and the frantic flutter of her eyelashes against Joshua's skin. He couldn't see her whole face.

Joshua finally recovered from the initial shock, his hands coming up to push her away. But Avery's arms tightened around his neck, a silent, desperate plea. Don't stop. Not yet.

He could feel the terror thrumming through her entire body. This wasn't part of the act. This was real.

Brodie's face was a mask of thunder. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his eyes churning with a storm of fury and a pain so profound it was almost unrecognizable.

He watched them, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white. He looked like a man watching his world burn to the ground.