Page 118 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"I wanted to be a journalist when I was younger. Like Miles, actually." Her voice drops slightly on his name, and something in her expression shifts. Becomes distant.

"But I was terrified of being on camera, so I went into PR instead."

I notice the change immediately. The way her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes anymore. The way she looks down at her wine glass instead of at me.

"Do you regret it?" I ask carefully.

"No. I'm good at what I do." She meets my eyes briefly.

"And I like being behind the scenes. Controlling the narrative without being the story."

We continue talking—books, childhood, the company. But I can see she's not fully present anymore. Her responses are polite, engaged, but there's a melancholy underneath that wasn't there before.

Because of what I told her about Miles.

Finally, I set down my fork.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you about Miles so abruptly. I wasn't sure if I should tell you outright or wait."

She's quiet for a moment, staring at her plate.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. I can see it's not."

She looks up at me, and there's something raw in her expression.

"I meant what I said, Scarlett. He's no good for you."

"It's not surprising," she says quietly.

"But it's still not easy to hear. It's like reopening the wound again. I spent three years with him. To know thathe wasn't even sure if he wanted to commit to me, that he had to go finish his unfinished business with his ex..." She trails off, shaking her head.

"I know it's difficult to hear."

"I was going to start a life with him, Dax. Everything that comes with that. A home. Maybe kids someday. I was ready. I said yes."

I lean forward. "Is that what you truly want?"

She meets my eyes. "That's what I wanted, Dax." A pause.

"What do you want?"

The question catches me off guard.

"What do I want?"

"What's your angle in all of this?" Her gaze is direct, challenging.

"What do you get from this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was with your brother. And you've taken the opportunity to get me in your bed. Is this just a conquest? Some sort of competition between the two of you? Some long-standing rivalry between brothers?"

The words hit like a slap.

"I am not in competition with my brother. Never have been."