Olivia Sparks

"What the f*ck are you doing to my sister!!!" Oliver's voice roared in the penthouse, shaking Olivia awake in her seat. But instead of looking doe-eyed scared, she grinned like a fool much to Oliver's chagrin.

Purple veins embossed his skin, and he felt every raging pulse that thumped in his body.

The truth was, Oliver rarely got angry. The times he did won't even exceed his fingers and toes combined.

But today, of all days, was the angriest that he'd ever felt.

Treacherous Snake.

That's how he saw Maxen who was wedged between his little sister's legs.

Their three decades of friendship flew out of the window the moment he saw his best friend—the one whom he called Brother—touching his sister.

"Step away from her, Maxen," Oliver warned whilst taking slow and calculated steps closer to the kitchen, but Maxen turned a deaf ear on him, irking him more. 

"Get a hold of yourself, Ollie. Let her cover up first, please." Maxen held his hand up, halting Oliver from charging into them. 

He peeked and saw Maxen's other hand busily buttoning up the shirt on Olivia to cover her up.

"Livi! Why the f*ck are you always n.a.k.e.d in your home!" Oliver hissed, removing his suit coat and throwing it over Olivia's legs. He never really understood why this sister of his enjoyed going around her house wearing little to nothing on her.

"You said it yourself, Ollie. I am n.a.k.e.d in my home. MY. HOME. Heck, I can do whatever I want. Now, if you could, please take a seat. Maxen here is cooking instant noodles for breakfast. Whatever you're here for could wait."

Oliver cracked his neck upon seeing Olivia happily dangle her legs on the stool. Seeing her carefree amid all the chaos annoyed him and relieved him all at the same time. Slowly, his anger simmered down into small tiny bubbles.

Wiping his hands over his face, he sat on the stool next to Olivia. "Since when has the Prince of Nisia become domesticated?" 

"Since I met your sister."

"Aren't we all f*cked?" Oliver sarcastically remarked whilst looking at Olivia. "The world must have come to an end. The great Maxen Sui is finally settling down with none other than my sister who ran away from her wedding! Great. Just. F*cking. Great."

Olivia snorted at her brother's little meltdown. 

Snapping his head between Maxen and Olivia, Oliver sneered. In his thoughts, he wondered how could this slimy, sneaky snake pretend to know anything that revolved around the kitchen and how on earth his highly gifted sister fell for the guy.

Elbowing Olivia, he tried to smear Maxen's reputation and whispered, "Last time he cooked was ten years ago, and he almost burned our apartment down."

"What about you? When was the last time you did something for your wife, Ollie? Stop dissing Maxen because he's trying to feed me with preservatives." 

Ignoring her question, Oliver shifted his attention to Maxen. "Hurry up, boy! My sister's hungry. You don't want her to get mad, do you?"

Just as Maxen was about to give Oliver his piece, Olivia crossed her arms over her c.h.e.s.t, and swiveled her stool, facing her brother. "Ollieee."

"Oliviaaa."

"Ollieee."

"What is it? Just tell me. Jeez."

"You look exhausted." Olivia pouted, fl.i.c.k.i.n.g the lone lint on his dress suit. 

Across from her, Oliver scoffed. "How wouldn't I be exhausted when I was up all night fixing all the shit you spilled. First, your wedding. Next… you know the other one." Oliver glanced at his sister, puzzled at how she looked calm even though they both knew Henry would come and exact retribution for her act of rebellion.

"Don't look at me as if I'm the bad guy, Ollie. After we eat, we will have a talk in my office. For now, let's enjoy the meal that Maxen prepared for us." 

Olivia hopped off the bar stool, but Ollie caught her wrist. She raised a brow when he started scrutinizing it, carefully twisting and turning her arm, as if looking for a clue. 

Her heart thumped in her c.h.e.s.t, slowly and painfully as her mind wandered back to Emily doing the same thing to her wrist a month ago. 

Tugging her hand back, she massaged her wrist and tried her best not to look affected.

Suddenly, Maxen's voice echoed behind her. After placing the three bowls of noodles on the table, he straightened his back, shielding Olivia from her brother. "Whatever you're thinking, I didn't and wouldn't do that to Olivia. It was a one time thing we did as curious college 'dudes' and that was your idea."

Oliver opened his mouth, ready to retort, but Olivia beat him to it. "Stop. Please. I want to eat in peace."

Thankfully, the two bickering men entered a truce, ignoring each other as they sat down in their respective seats.

The steaming soup didn't bother Olivia. She dug into her food as if she was starved for days. One. Two. Three. Four sips. To her left, Oliver snorted. To her right, Maxen grunted. She tasted the soup one more time, but her brows knitted when she tasted nothing but water. 

"This soup needs a little tweaking. Sorry, but it tastes like a soup made out of socks, Max," Olivia dropped her shoulders. She didn't want to take another bite, but this was Maxen's third try to cook her breakfast so she willed herself to take another bite.

Coming to his best friend's defense, Oliver noted, "Let's be thankful he didn't burn the house down." He gave Maxen a pat, digging back in his bowl.

Three backs shook in glee as they still ate the food on the table, celebrating Maxen's small feat in the kitchen. 

After a few minutes, the siblings were on their way to the fire exit going down to Olivia's decoy apartment when Oliver halted his steps, walking back to where Maxen was reading the broadsheet.

With his hands dipped in his pockets, Oliver inched close enough that only the two of them could hear what he'd say.