The corridors of the manor were quieter than usual — a rare lull in the chaos of having your brother Theodore and his friends staying over for the weekend. You weren’t surprised. It was late, nearly midnight, and most of them had disappeared after dinner, nursing whiskey and laughing about old school duels.

You'd been in the library alone for the past hour, trying to read, but you’d only made it through three pages. Your thoughts kept drifting to the familiar sound of his laugh echoing down the hallway earlier, the way his eyes found yours across the dining room table when he thought no one noticed.

Mattheo.

Your brother’s best friend. The one who wasn’t supposed to matter. But he did, more than he should’ve.

You’d grown up with him practically living in your house during the holidays. He and Theodore had been inseparable since first year, always getting into trouble. And Mattheo… he was different than Theo. Rougher. Darker. There was a reason your parents didn’t fully trust him — and maybe that’s why you always had.

He was the boy with secrets in his eyes and a voice like velvet sin.

He was also completely off-limits.

You were Theodore’s little sister — the one rule Mattheo would never break, no matter how many times your eyes had lingered a bit too long, or how his fingers brushed yours. There was always something in his eyes… but he never said a word. Not until tonight.

You left the library, book in hand, and stepped into the hallway.

Mattheo was leaning against the wall just outside the door, a bottle of something half-full dangling from his fingers.

“You always read the same book,” he said. “You know how it ends.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe I like knowing how things end.”

He smirked. “That’s boring.”

You moved past him, heart thudding just a little harder, but he turned and followed you.

“Wait,” he said, stepping closer.

“You know I tried,” he said, voice low. “To stay away. To not look at you like that. For Theo’s sake.”

“And?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mattheo laughed once. “And I failed. Years ago.”

You blinked. The air left your lungs.

He moved closer. “One kiss…” he murmured, like a secret, like a sin. “Come on… you never have to tell anyone…”

“Mattheo—”

“After all those years…” He was close now. Too close. His eyes flicked down to your lips. “Don’t you wanna know?”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell him to go back to his room, to stop risking everything but your feet didn’t move. Neither did his.

You wanted to know.

You always had.