Chapter 1Seducing My Brother’s Cold Roommate

I fell in love with my brother’s roommate at first sight.

I spent nearly three weeks cultivating this breathless, high-pitched princess voice, practically purring whenever he walked into the room, only to find out he absolutely loathes sweet, girly girls.

The realization shattered me. In a fit of sheer, dramatic panic, I hijacked his live stream, typing like a woman possessed:

Hilarious. Honestly, you're not even my type.

You uptight poser. I already have a new man. He's a college quarterback—sweet, gorgeous, and doesn't look like he’s running on empty.

That night, for the first time in his legendary esports career, the cold god of gaming shut down his stream mid-match.

I didn't even make it halfway out of the building before he caught me in the stairwell. Trembling, crying, begging for mercy in the shadows, the pink silk bow on the front of my dress shredded under his fingers.

"Heather," he whispered, his breath hot and dangerous against my ear. "Even bad girls have to be punished..."

* * *

My older brother, Brandon, was a certified player, but recently he seemed to have retired from the field.

Lately, he was practically a monk, locked up in his off-campus apartment. No clubbing, no bars, and he’d even ruthlessly turned down several invitations from gorgeous women.

Our parents grew highly suspicious. They were terrified Brandon was hiding some poor, innocent girl in his den of iniquity, tricking her with his charm. Naturally, they dispatched me to his apartment to investigate.

I rang the doorbell. No answer.

Frustrated, I pounded heavily on the heavy wood door.

"Brandon Colton! Exactly how many food deliveries did you order?"

A voice answered from the other side—deep, cold, and entirely unfamiliar.

"One second."

My heart did a violent little flip.

My mother’s instincts were spot-on. Brandon’s apartment actually had a secret resident. But the "sister-in-law" sounded incredibly intimidating, like someone who didn't tolerate nonsense.

I was busy conjuring up an image of a fierce, sophisticated older woman when the door was pulled open.

I looked up. There was no beautiful, intimidating older sister.

Instead, I was staring at a face so ridiculously handsome it stole the breath right out of my lungs.

He was easily six-foot-three, with pale skin, sharp, aristocratic features, and a chilly aura that screamed do not cross me. He possessed a lean, muscular frame that even his casual gray t-shirt couldn't hide, and an effortless, quiet wealth radiated from his very posture.

I stood there, completely entranged, unable to even blink.

Then a shocking realization hit me: had my brother actually pulled a god-tier hunk? Had Brandon gone on a journey of self-discovery and brought home a boyfriend who looked like a literal runway model?

Every single cell in my body was suddenly screaming. He was, down to the very last detail, my exact type.

I had to have him. If I didn't get this man’s number, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

And if he really was my brother's boyfriend... well, Brandon and I would just have to fight for him fairly.

"Hi," I said, tilting my head to offer my sweetest, most dazzling smile. "I'm Brandon's sister, Heather Colton."

My mother was a beauty-obsessed woman who had married a strikingly handsome man, and I had been lucky enough to inherit their best features. All my life, teachers and classmates had told me my smile could melt glaciers.

But right now, my face was practically aching from smiling so hard, and the man’s expression remained as cool and still as winter.

His eyes swept briefly over my outfit—a pleated navy schoolgirl skirt, thigh-high white socks, and a tiny cropped cardigan—before he stepped back to let me in.

"Brandon is in the shower," he explained, his tone even and brief. "I'm his roommate."

Roommate.

I let out a long, silent breath of pure relief. Thank god. He wasn't the boyfriend.

Once we sat down in the living room, he handed me a chilled bottle of strawberry cream soda.

I seized the opportunity. As I took the bottle, my fingers deliberately brushed against his palm. I pitched my voice into a soft, breathless coo. "A guy this handsome must have a really beautiful name."

He paused, looking at me with a steady, unreadable gaze. "Beckett Song."

He seemed slightly caught off guard by the fact that a girl who looked like a quiet, sweet student would flirt so aggressively.

"What a coincidence," I said, my eyes shining with manufactured excitement. "A fortune teller once told me my future husband would have that exact name."

"Superstition is a bad habit," Beckett replied, his voice entirely flat. "The fortune teller lied to you. You shouldn't go back."

I choked on my own breath. Talk about a romance-killer.

I pushed forward anyway. "Someone as amazing as you must have girls lining up to date you, right?"

Instead of looking flattered, Beckett remained entirely indifferent. "Not really."

"Then can I be first in line?" I asked softly, gently tugging at his sleeve, looking up at him with the most innocent, earnest eyes I could muster.

Beckett’s heavy lids lifted slightly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Dating too young will ruin your grades."

What?

I sat up straight, my brain stalling. After all my heavy-handed flirting, this man thought I was a high schooler? What an absolute tragedy.

I squared my shoulders and puffed out my chest. "Beckett, I’m in college." I emphasized the word, making sure he got the point.

Then, complaining about the heat, I casually slid my baby-blue cardigan off my shoulders.

Beckett’s eyes followed the movement, drifting downward for a fraction of a second before he instantly looked away. His expression remained perfectly blank. "I'll go get the air conditioning remote."

"Don't worry about it," I said, sliding closer to him. I could smell the faint scent of his clean, cedarwood soap. "AC isn't eco-friendly. Besides, you look so delightfully cool. Why don't we just..."

Before I could finish, Brandon walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, and sat down directly between us.

"I'll let you two siblings catch up," Beckett said, rising smoothly and politely retreating to his room.

I instinctively wanted to follow him, but Brandon caught me by the collar. Through the crack of Beckett’s door, I could only see the glow of a high-end dual-monitor gaming setup.