He Thought My Brother Was My Lover Chapter 2

Dean wasn't the type to sleep on the sofa—that was below him.

The last time he slept on the sofa was right before he retired from professional gaming. I had stayed up all night with him during a training session. I fell asleep on his single bed while watching a movie.

He was afraid of waking me, so he tiptoed away and squeezed himself onto a small futon couch for the night.

I told him to replace the tiny bed with a queen size.

He just smiled and tapped my nose. “Don’t think for a second you’re going to be able to control me twenty-four-seven.”

Now, the practice room had a new, huge bed. When I asked him why, he shrugged. “Talia hosts tournaments sometimes, and she stops by to rest. The old bed wasn’t comfortable for her.”

His blunt honesty left me speechless.

He didn't even realize he was instinctively putting Talia before everything else.

Dean didn't show up at the apartment for three days.

But his Instagram feed was overflowing with his life.

He was back to racing and hitting the city’s hottest bars, completely in his element. He’d posted more in three days than he had in the last six months combined.

Scrolling down, I saw Talia’s recent post.

The photo showed Dean in his racing suit, his arm casually around Talia’s waist, raising a trophy and grinning.

The caption: Boys will be boys. Guess he’s still a big kid.

They looked exactly like a couple in the throes of new romance, sharing a moment of triumph.

I tapped the like button.

Then I called a car service and went to the office to submit my resignation.

My manager was surprised. “So sudden?”

She knew how hard I’d fought to get here. From an industry novice to someone well-respected with strong connections—it had cost me countless late nights, endless rounds of drinks, and swallowing my pride more times than I could count.

I didn't actually love the work. I persisted for two reasons: one, the job was strategically helpful for Dean’s career; and two, I was fiercely competitive and needed to prove I could succeed.

As she signed the paperwork, my manager teased me. “I heard your family is overseas. Are you going back to get married?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I guess I’m just homesick.”

I had defied my family's wishes to chase this love across the country.

It turned out I bet on the wrong person.

When my colleagues heard I was leaving, they insisted on a farewell dinner. I couldn't refuse, so I agreed to host.

I didn't expect to run into Dean and Talia at the restaurant.

Fortunately, they were on their way out just as we were being seated.

As we brushed past, Dean gave me a cold, dismissive look, then smiled and wrapped his arm around Talia’s shoulders.

“Let’s go. Big brother is taking you for some killer shots tonight.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Talia’s face, quickly replaced by a challenging look directed at me.

She leaned into Dean’s ear, giggling.

“Aren’t you worried about Anya getting upset?”

Dean scoffed. “She doesn’t get a say.”

I heard their retreating footsteps and felt a wave of relief. This was best. No awkward small talk required.

The dinner with my colleagues was fun and went on past midnight.

I was trying to call a cab when a familiar Porsche Panamera pulled up beside me.

The window lowered, revealing Dean’s grim face.

“Get in.”

I was annoyed and surprised—drunk driving was illegal.

He instantly saw my thought and snapped impatiently.

“Hanging out with a bunch of guys, drinking until midnight. You’re unbelievable, Anya.”

“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. Now, move the car, or I’ll get a cab.”

It was genuinely hard to find a ride at this hour.

I swallowed my annoyance and climbed into the back seat.

I closed my eyes for a moment to rest. When I opened the window for some fresh air, I realized the car hadn’t moved.

I opened my eyes and met Dean’s intense, complicated gaze.

“Anya Wells, am I your chauffeur?”

I paused, then spoke without thinking.

“Huh? Didn’t you say I don’t get carsick, so I should just sit in the back?”