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He gives a half shrug. “I was exploring the island. I saw your pathetic attempt at fishing, so I watched you for a few minutes. You asked for my help, so I gave it to you.” He bites his bottom lip, giving me that same flickering stare as before. “Apparently, you were quite… appreciative.”

There he is. The Micah I know and hate. How did I not see it?

Oh god. He got me off, and he knows it, too.

I meet his dark stare with a flat one of my own. Every line in my body tenses. “Is this what you did to Olivia?” I ask him darkly. “Did you wear Maison’s sweater?”

His jaw tightens. He takes a step forward and I flinch, but I keep my icy gaze on him. Watching him, studying him like I was supposed to be doing all along.

Patterns, connections, subtleties.

His fingers, his kiss, the guidance on how to catch that fish, and how he made me do it all myself.

Fuck.

It was him the whole time, and I just didn’t see it. I got distracted.

He knows who I am and who I thought he was. “How far would you let it go if I didn’t realize it was you?” I ask, feeling very exposed with how much skin I’m showing, my ass cheeks still burning from where he grabbed them.

“I did nothing you didn’t specifically ask or want me to do. And based on your reaction, I think you liked it.”

I’m well aware of how on fire my body is. My pulse is still raging.

I want to shut my eyes, and shut him out, but I simply stare at him instead, looking as beautiful as the boy I’m falling for. Except it’s not him, it’s not Maison, and they are so very different.

I wrap my arms around myself as a cool breeze flushes through the air. Those puffy clouds are closer now, darker with shades of gray as they twist and rumble above us. “You could have stopped me.” I tell him, not that I was giving him much of a choice.

He gives me that smirk, the only heartless smile I ever see on his face. “And push away a beautiful girl telling me to do naughty things to her? Why the fuck would I do that?”

A flush of warmth runs through me as I take in his words. My tongue and eyes emit heat and fire. “You don’t deserve Maison as a brother. He’s better than you, Micah, in so many ways.”

Accusations lace every word. I can see how Olivia fell for it. Diabolical, Nigel had called him, and I agree as Micah just stares at me with a cool indifference. I almost can’t feel my heart as it flutters so fast.

“I don’t disagree,” he says, observing me.

Then his inner rage bubbles to the surface as his eyes flash and he reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a knife. He opens it and the blade flashes in the sunlight. He walks toward me, and I flinch, half expecting him to do something to me—grab me by the neck and slice me open. Maybe he will kill me like he’s done before.

Instead, he pushes past me, barely brushing against my skin. “You know nothing about me, London,” he says in a deadly voice as he steps toward the fish. He bends over, muscles rippling, and places the fish in the calm clear waters, cleaning it.

“I know enough,” I mutter. It was either Micah or Maison who hurt Olivia. I am incapable of imagining Maison hurting someone, and I refuse to believe I can be this wrong about somebody.

Micah looks at me with sharp eyes. “You know nothing about your boyfriend, either. He’s not the golden boy you think he is, sweetheart.”

My skin crawls, every inch buzzing at the way he says it. Unfiltered, unflinching, raw emotion. It’s the most real moment we’ve had together.

He drops his knife into the water and cleans it. I can’t rip my eyes from him now, and I can’t speak, as he takes the knife and runs it along his sleeve. So sure of himself, every motion he makes is fluid and confident. He ignores me, as he’s so good at doing. And with precision and focus, he skillfully makes an incision along the fish’s belly to the throat. I watch as he slides the scales apart and the guts spill out of it, and I try to keep what little I’ve had to eat in the past twenty-four hours in my stomach. He takes his time and scrubs the inside of the fish as I stand silently behind him, watching him work. I suck in a breath, trying to lower my heart rate, willing myself to move, to get away from him. Instead, he rises, leaving the guts spilled out on my rock, meeting my eyes as he passes.

“I hope you enjoyed the show, London, because next time, you’re gutting your own damn fish.”

He stalks out of sight, into the woods and the veiled mist forming from the impending storm, leaving me cold, alone, and reeling.

It’s only when he’s gone that I let out a deep exhale.

How could I have not seen it? The way he touched me, so calculated; Maison never touches me like that. Maison’s softer, not so forceful. Micah knew exactly what he was doing. Everything about him just hits differently. What buttons on my body to press. He wanted to get me off.

I was right about Micah. He is not a good person.

I genuinely thought it was Maison I was kissing earlier, but Micah knew who I was, and what’s happening between me and his brother. He let me kiss him, knowing I was confused. He’s messing with me, plain and simple.