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.
