Falling for my Enemy's Brother

Chapter 74: Let Me Show You

Merlina waited at the edge of the abandoned park she had chosen, tracing slow circles into the gravel.

The cold wind brushed against her exposed skin, but it wasn’t strong enough to erase the warmth lingering from last night, him, his touch, his voice, his breath against her neck.

Why she couldn’t stop replaying it was beyond her. Now she had no choice but to face him, not even a full day had passed since he kissed every inch of her body.

She hadn’t planned to see him again. Not this soon. The plan was simple: ignore Craig Lesnar. Pretend last night hadn’t happened. Pretend it hadn’t meant anything.

Because Craig was a walking, talking red flag. Who kisses a girl like that, holds her like she’s the only soft thing he’s ever touched, only to act smug about it a few minutes later?

He was gloating, like he’d won something. ’Thank you for letting me see how bad you want me.’

She scoffed. His arrogance seemed baked into his very bones. He made her feel like a girl controlled by desire rather than reason. Now, she was going to do everything to prove him otherwise.

That message couldn’t have come at a worse time. It shook her more than any before. She needed to act fast, ask questions, and the only person she could turn to was Craig. Not Megan. Not Louis. Not this time.

’You looked just like your mother last night. Be careful whose bed you end up in.’

How was she supposed to explain that? How do you make sense of a warning wrapped in accusation, one that cut deeper than any truth she dared to admit?

Her thoughts spun in loops. What if someone had really seen Craig come in? What if someone knew what they did?

Whoever it was had to be close, too close, probably right in her dorm. The thought sent a cold shiver racing down her spine. She didn’t feel safe anymore. Not even a little.

She stopped pacing, folding her arms tightly, fighting a tremble that had nothing to do with the weather when the low rumble of an engine made her freeze. Tires crunched over gravel.

Her heart skipped.

He was here.

A sleek white Lamborghini rolled to a stop just ahead. She hadn’t expected Craig to arrive so quickly; she thought he was still across town. He hadn’t even messaged to say he was close.

The door opened, slow, deliberate. Then Craig stepped out.

Black hoodie. Hands in his pockets. The wind tugged at his hair, ruffling it just enough to make it look like he’d stepped off a stage. It was like gravity shifted whenever he was near, pulling her in without warning.

He looked infuriatingly good for someone who had stolen her breath, vanished like it didn’t happen, and gifted her a night of no sleep and too many thoughts.

And now his green eyes locked on hers, soft, guarded, and far too knowing. It was the same look, the same softness she’d seen just before she gave in to him last night. That very same softness now made her stomach flip all over again.

He stepped closer, voice dropping to a low whisper. "Hey."

She met his gaze, then looked away, heart hammering against her ribs. Her fingers twitched against her thigh, a small betrayal of the calm she tried to wear.

"Hey," she whispered back, eyes flickering away too quickly.

She nervously rubbed her thumb against her middle finger, wishing she could undo everything that happened between them. Like she hadn’t wanted it. She cursed herself.

"Did anyone... see you come into my room last night?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

"No." His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t stop watching her. "Why?"

"You sure?" she pressed. "Not even Conor?"

He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her face. "No. Did someone say something?"

She hesitated, pulling her arms tighter around herself. Her voice dropped lower. "Someone sent me an anonymous message this morning."

Craig paused, a small frown forming as his gaze held hers. There was no outburst, no dramatic shift, just a subtle sharpening in his tone. "What kind of message?"

She hesitated again. "Actually..." Her voice wavered. "I’ve been getting messages. Cryptic ones."

Craig didn’t speak, but something in his expression sharpened.

"Since I got to Belford," she continued, slower now. "Warnings. Threats."

She looked away briefly, grounding herself with a breath. "About you, your brother, warning me to stay away."

He blinked once, slowly, blankly, like the words were taking a second longer to land.

Then quietly, "You’re just telling me this now?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "You’re the last person I could’ve told."

The words hit harder than she meant them to.

Merlina bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want another round of this, the cold replies, the sharp words, the way they always found new ways to bruise each other. Not today.

Craig had his faults, God, she could list them. He was sarcastic, closed off, and half the time she wanted to throw something at him. But there was one thing he always did.

He listened.

Even when she was cold. Even when she acted like she didn’t need anyone. He listened. He stayed. He’d been there when she was hurt, when no one else even knew. He didn’t ask for explanations or apologies, he just helped.

And standing here now, she felt it. A guilt she hadn’t expected. A weight that hadn’t been there before. Maybe because, for the first time, it mattered whether or not she’d hurt him.

Maybe because, somewhere along the line, he started to matter more than she let herself admit.

With a quick breath, she pulled her phone from her back pocket and unlocked it. She stepped forward, careful to keep just enough space between them. When their fingers brushed, she jerked back as if shocked.

Craig paused too. He felt it.

But said nothing.

He lowered his gaze to the screen and scrolled slowly. His expression darkened with each word.

"You’re not as invisible as you think, Merlina," he read aloud, then stopped. His thumb hovered. Jaw tight. His mind shook as he read further. "You’ve been getting messages like this?"

He looked up at her, concern obvious in his eyes.

She just nodded, running a hand through her hair in a restless gesture.

Craig exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Conor just found out you were in Belford. He flipped on me for keeping it from him. This, this couldn’t be him."

"This was sent this morning." She stepped closer, gently tapping her screen. Her knuckles brushed his wrist.

Craig’s eyes narrowed as he finished reading the last message, then stopped. His jaw clenched tight.

"So, Louis?" he asked, voice low but steady.

She blinked, caught off guard. "Seriously?"

He met her gaze, calm but sharp. "What? This sounds exactly like something a jealous guy would send."

"You’re unbelievable," she muttered, stepping back as if his presence suddenly overwhelmed her.

Craig closed the distance, just half a step behind her. "What takes Louis off the list? Why do you defend him like you’ve known him forever?"

She folded her arms again, frustration bubbling up. "I can’t do this with you, not right now," she snapped, turning away.

His voice followed her, smooth but sharp. "Do you want my help or not? Because I assume you didn’t drag me to some creepy park just to ask if anyone saw me last night."

She turned slowly, arms still wrapped around herself like armor. "And how exactly can you help?"

"By getting someone who can actually trace it," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Louis already tried," she replied, flat.

Craig’s mouth twitched, half a smirk, half a sigh. "Oh, you mean he called one of those YouTube-tech-guru types?"

She shot him a glare. "What?"

He didn’t repeat himself. Instead, his tone shifted, low and serious. "Merlina, look, there was a time my family was targeted," he began, eyes darkening. "Digitally harassed, doxxed, stalked."

She swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in.

"We don’t guess. We don’t download tracking apps on a whim." He shook his head slightly, voice steady but sharp. "We work with cyber forensics professionals."

His gaze locked on hers, unwavering.

"People who trace IPs, dig through spoofed accounts, extract metadata." He paused, letting it all hang in the air before finishing with quiet emphasis, "People who know how to find ghosts online."

He held up her phone, still clutched in his hand. "Like this." Then, with unexpected gentleness, he handed it back. "This isn’t just someone messing around. It’s targeted. And if someone’s watching you this closely, it’s not just creepy, it’s dangerous."

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, caught in a pause too long to ignore. Her fingers laced together, knuckles tight, as she stepped forward, eyes searching his.

Then quietly, almost like she didn’t want to hear her own question, "How do I know I can trust you?"

Craig looked at her.

He didn’t just look, he held her in that stare, the same one he gave her right before his mouth rewrote everything she thought she knew about wanting someone.

It was like the question hit deeper than it should have. And for a moment, heat stirred behind his eyes, slow, dark, and heavy with memory.

He wasn’t just thinking about trust.

He was thinking about the sound of her gasping against his lips, the way her body writhed against his, how she’d let go completely, wet, wild, begging for everything, like she was daring the world to watch.

And now, she was asking this?

His gaze dropped just for a second to her lips. Then back to her eyes, slower this time, deeper. In an instant, the heat between them sparked like dry wire.

His voice came lower, rougher. "Need me to show you again?"

Her breath trembled, eyes flickering shut briefly before she turned, letting out a long, slow exhale that couldn’t quite calm the rush beneath her ribs.

She locked her gaze straight ahead, fighting to hold herself together. Every inch of her body screamed to lean in, to drown in the heat radiating from him. God, why does he have so much effect on me?

The passion from last night flashed behind her eyelids, still fresh, still warm. She wasn’t ready to fall again. Not now. Not ever.

"Fine," she whispered, voice ragged and low.

She stepped back slowly, every movement a battle to keep herself from collapsing into him, her body aching with the memory of his touch, the heat he’d ignited.

She fought the urge to reach out, to pull him closer, but the space was all that kept her from losing control. "How do we meet them?"