He Shouldn’t Know How I Taste — My Bestfriend’s Brother

Emma's POV:

I spotted them through the glass window of Starbucks—him and some blonde, sitting cozily by the window with a perfect view of the street. They were the only customers in the otherwise empty Tuesday afternoon café. That cheating bastard.

I burst through the glass door with one mission: catch him red-handed. The cool air-conditioning hit my face as I marched straight toward his table, grabbed his steaming coffee mug, and flung the contents straight at his face. To my surprise, he moved with shocking speed, dodging backward as the hot liquid splashed onto the empty chair beside him.

"What the—" he started, his voice deep and controlled despite the sudden attack.

I didn't let him finish. My fist was already flying toward his face, but he caught my wrist mid-air with reflexes that shouldn't belong to a regular Wall Street type.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, his grip firm but not painful.

I twisted out of his hold and aimed a kick at his groin. Again, he sidestepped with frustrating ease.

"You know exactly who I am, you lying piece of shit!" I spat, glancing around to see his blonde companion had already fled the scene. "Cheating on my friend after one night? NOT EVEN A FULL FUCKING DAY?"

The man's eyes narrowed, steel-gray and calculating. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Save it for someone who cares, Brian!" I grabbed a water pitcher from the neighboring table, ready for round two.

"Hey, hey, HEY! What the hell's going on? I just went to the bathroom for two minutes!"

I froze at the familiar voice. Jackson Parker, my childhood friend, appeared beside me, his usually carefree face twisted with confusion.

"Emma, what are you doing? Put that down!" He placed himself between me and my target.

"Jackson?" I lowered the pitcher slightly, my brow furrowing. "What are you doing here with this cheating asshole?"

Before Jackson could answer, the café door swung open again, and my best friend Megan Sterling rushed in, looking flushed and worried.

"Emma! I've been looking everywhere for—" She stopped dead, her eyes widening. "Uncle Alex?"

"Uncle?" I echoed, slowly turning back to the man I'd just attempted to assault.

Jackson's face lit up. "Megan!" He waved, seemingly forgetting the chaos around him.

I looked back and forth between them. "Wait—if you're her uncle, then..." I scanned the café. "Who was that woman who was sitting across from you?"

Jackson raised an eyebrow at the man. "What woman? I haven't seen you with a girlfriend since her."

The man straightened his slightly dampened designer suit. "Just someone who came over asking for my Instagram."

"Your hired muscle is impressive," Alexander said to Megan, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but perhaps brief her properly next time on who she's supposed to beat up."

Megan winced. "She's not hired muscle, she's my best friend! We were supposed to catch my boyfriend cheating. Emma just got confused about the location."

I finally found my voice. "I thought you said Starbucks, not Starlight."

"It's across the street," Jackson pointed out, trying not to laugh.

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" I gestured wildly. "I just finished my Master's thesis defense, raced across the city, and saw a guy with a blonde by the window. I assumed it was Brian!"

"Master's defense?" Alexander's eyes flicked over me with renewed interest, taking in my combat boots, ripped jeans, and leather jacket.

"Computer security," I muttered. "Just got my Master's from NYU."

"And celebrated by assaulting random strangers in coffee shops," he replied dryly.

Jackson chuckled. "That's our Emma—act first, think never. Good thing Alex has quick reflexes. Anyone else would be in the ER after facing Hurricane Emma."

Alexander narrowed his eyes at Megan. "When exactly did you start dating this boyfriend?"

Megan flinched nervously. "We just made it official yesterday. But this morning my bodyguard sent me photos of him entering a hotel with another woman. We found out he had an appointment at the Starlight bar this afternoon, so we came to catch him red-handed."

Jackson clicked his tongue. "That's some speed record."

Megan suddenly gasped, her gaze fixed on something outside. "That's him! That's Brian—with some redhead!"

We all turned to see a tall guy with slicked-back hair approaching Starlight Bar across the street, his arm wrapped around a woman.

Before anyone could stop me, I was out the door, crossing the street at a run. I launched myself at Brian with a flying kick that sent him crashing through the bar's glass door in a shower of glittering shards.

I grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby table and smashed it over his head. Dark red liquid streamed down his face—wine or blood, I couldn't tell and didn't care.

The redhead screamed, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you attacking my boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" I laughed. "Honey, you're the side piece."

"Excuse me?" Her perfectly contoured face twisted with indignation. "I'm his girlfriend! We've been exclusive since this morning!"

"This morning?" I repeated, just as Megan caught up to us.

"Brian?" Megan's voice was small but steady. "Care to explain why you're with another woman when you just became my boyfriend last night? After pursuing me for six months?"

The redhead's jaw dropped. "Six months? He's been chasing me for four months and I finally said yes this morning! We even slept together!"

Brian, bleeding and dazed, tried to get to his feet. "Natalie, baby, I can explain—"

"Save it, two-timer," Natalie snapped, driving her stiletto heel into his backside twice. "And for the record, worst ten minutes of my life." She stormed off, leaving Brian calling after her.

When she didn't turn back, he tried a different approach. "Megan, please, she means nothing to me—"

Megan silenced him with a swift kick that sent him sprawling again. "Don't call me. Don't text me. Don't even think about me."

She grabbed my arm and turned to leave, only to find a tall man with dark brown hair appeared from inside the bar. "Well, if it isn't the North hurricane," he said with a slight smile.

"Nick!" I grinned at the bar owner. "Sorry about your door."

Nick Morgan shrugged. "You guys go to the VIP room upstairs. I'll handle this mess."

As we headed inside, Alexander's eyes locked on my hand. "You're bleeding."

I looked down to see a small cut across my palm, probably from flying glass.

"Jackson, take Megan to find a first aid kit," Alexander ordered.

"What? I should stay with Emma," Megan protested.

"And do what? Kiss it better?" Jackson retorted, gently pulling her away.

Left alone with Alexander Sterling, I shifted uncomfortably. The VIP room was plush and quiet, with mood lighting that made his features look even sharper.

"Miss North," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "is property destruction your standard approach to problem-solving, or do you save that for special occasions?"

"Mr. Sterling," I mimicked his formal tone, "does being judgmental come naturally, or is it a skill you've cultivated?"

His lips twitched almost imperceptibly. "Aren't you concerned about your family's image? The Norths are quite prominent in New York society."

I laughed. "Mr. Sterling, you've recently returned from abroad, so it's understandable you're not familiar with New York's social circles. Do you think I have a reputation to maintain? I've been fighting my way from kindergarten through grad school. If it weren't for the North money and influence, I'd have been in and out of jail more times than I can count by now."

"This won't leave this room," he said, and I couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat.

"I don't care if it does," I shrugged. "But Brian might try to spread stories about Megan, and I'd hate for her reputation to suffer because of that scumbag. I need to..."

Alexander's eyes darkened slightly. "I wouldn't worry about that."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said with quiet certainty, "you won't be seeing him again."