A/N: Here's an extra chap for my favorite readers ❤️

"Wait!" I gasped and once again landed hard on the mattress, letting out a loud groan.

He didn't wait.

I lifted myself to a sitting position on my trembling hands, gritting teeth in anger.

"Hurry, get up," Dylan ordered me, standing over me with his arms folded.

"It doesn't make sense!" I said to him, raising my head. His proudly presented muscular posture towered over me, successfully ripping me off of all my confidence.

"Get up," he repeated slowly and loudly.

I wanted to hit him in the face.

Instead, I sat on the mattress, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my head away like an offended child.

"Fucking hell..." Dylan muttered, this time quietly and to himself, sighing and dragging his hand over his face. Then he bent down, grabbed my arm, and lifted me to my feet as if I weighed nothing. Well, he actually has already proved that that was the case.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted and dropped to my knees so that now only my hand was held up.

"Stop acting like a brat," Dylan growled warningly.

"Stop acting mean," I hissed at him from the floor, still trying to break free.

"You haven't seen me mean yet."

"And you haven't seen me acting like a braaaaaat yet! I screamed, dragging the last words as loud as I could.

Dylan released me immediately to cover his ears with his hands, and the laws of physics did their job, knocking me all back to the ground.

Heh, it's me, almost a sixteen-year-old girl, teasing her brother like a spoiled five-year-old. Some time ago I would die out of embarrassment but now I knew that there were no limits in the fight against Dylan and sometimes I had to use extreme measures.

"I knew you aren't ready for learning self-defense. Go back to kindergarten," Dylan said, shaking his head mockingly at me.

"Maybe you're just a terrible teacher?"

I swear, I became a worse person because of him.

Dylan snorted.

"Because I don't play with you like Will? What are you, little baby? Get up."

I did get up. I rose to my feet and, giving him the one last angry look, quickly left the gym. Simply out of rage, I even lacked the words to say goodbye to him. He didn't make an effort either, because I heard him only snorting with contempt again.

I immediately headed to my bedroom. This was my third training with Dylan and the only thing I have learned with him so far is how to fall to the ground so that it hurts less.

First thing, I grabbed my phone and, being all the time on impulse, I called Vincent.

The thing about my guardian was that I couldn't talk to him just like that. It's not a mom who, in case of a problem, you'll always find bustling around the kitchen or watering flowers on the balcony. With Vince, it was more complicated. First I had to call him, which of course I did not often do, and hope that he will pick up the phone, and then find out if he is at home at all.

When I heard his cold voice, I felt a great desire to pour out my sorrows here and now but when I told him that I wanted to talk to him, he replied that he had a moment and invited me to his office. In the forbidden corridor.

I hung up and immediately went there. I was almost never in this part of the house, as it was still out of my reach, so I was gradually losing my confidence as I walked along this corridor. Its cold darkness, exaggerated by my imagination, effectively cooled down the blood boiling in my veins.

I cringed at the sight of the couch I had hidden behind during my first escapade here. And then I jumped as a man immediately emerged from the dark hall in front of me. At first, he was well masked by a black suit. I stopped, unsure, in front of him. He had an earphone and short blond hair. He was quite handsome - objectively speaking.

He reached out to me as if he wanted to stop me, so I froze on spot obediently.

"What is Miss Monet doing here?" he asked suspiciously, examining me with his green eyes and light eyelashes.

Err... Miss Monet?

I gestured with my thumb to the side, which I knew was leading to Vince's office.

"I want to talk to my brother," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"One moment," the man muttered.

I spread my hands and stuck my head forward. Okay, I think I was still a bit annoyed.

Before the man could say something to the small micropore he had attached to his jacket, he probably heard something on the earphone because he straightened up, nodded to himself.

"Yes, sir."

Then he headed for the door to Vincent's office and pressed the door handle, apparently opening it for me because with a wave of his hand he kindly invited me inside.

These polite phrases that Vince was referred to were making him older in my eyes than he really was. Because is it the way people should talk to you when you're 29?

Well, I passed the guard and entered a room with which I had no good memories. This is where I wailed for Jason. Ah, if I knew back then what a pig he was.

Not much has changed here. Vince's large desk was still a central piece of furniture here. The same two armchairs stood in front of it, and my brother looked equally intimidating. He was wearing a blue shirt that was perfectly highlighting his icy eyes.

The door closed behind me, or rather the bodyguard did it, so I had no choice but shyly head towards my brother's desk.

Vincent rested his elbow on the desk, his chin on his hand. He held his other hand on his phone, tapping his fingers silently on it. He gave me a neutral look but I needed a moment to remember the essence of the matter with which I came to him.

I sat on the edge of one of the chairs, biting my lip.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked, being completely calm and ready to hear me out, as usual.

I looked around first, gathering the courage to finally look at Vince.

I took a deep breath.

"I don't want to train with Dylan."

There was a moment of silence, and my brother raised his eyebrows.

"Why?"

I stared at him with a harmed puppy's eyes.

"He is mean to me and... and I have bruises because of him... and I don't learn anything..." Gradually, I felt less and less comfortable being exposed to this Vincent's scrutinizing look. He was still sitting in the same position and still drummed his fingers lazily on the screen of his iPhone.

"Did he hurt you?"

I was looking aside in anger but at this question, I turned my eyes back to him.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"What I asked. Did he hurt you?"

"No," I replied, confused, "But I'm all bruised because he keeps throwing me to the floor!"

"You're learning self-defense, Hailie, of course, you are bruised."

"I don't learn anything with him!"

"How do you know if you have no idea about martial arts yourself?"

I pursed my lips, clearly dissatisfied.

"And Dylan does. I think he knows what he's doing." Vince continued.

No, no, no. I leaned closer to the desk and grabbed its edge with my hands.

"But Vince, he's ... he's calling me names ..." I stammered.

Now my brother raised one eyebrow slightly.

"What names?"

I turned my head aside again. Did he have to ask so many questions?

"Well, brat and baby and stuff..." I mumbled.

"So you're saying he just teases you?"

"He's so mean..." I groaned.

Vince finally moved and changed position. Now he leaned back in his chair and stared at me with his chin raised.

"Hailie, although I do realize Dylan is often unbearable, I don't see a problem in this case. He's supposed to teach you self-defense, not manners."

I stared at him with big eyes.

"But..."

"I want your lessons to be varied and that's why not all of them will be taught by William."

I looked down at my knees.

"You don't love all your teachers at school either, do you?" he continued with the glow of this mysterious amusement on his face, which he usually concealed well.

"But they all like me," I muttered under my breath.

That's how it was, the teachers liked me because I studied well, I was always prepared for their classes and I took them seriously. And I was kind and charming. In this school, an important detail usually working in my favor was also my name. Apparently, Vincent actively supported its fund, much to the principal's gratitude.

Vince raised a corner of his mouth in his slightly sly smile, which probably stole the heart of many women, although it always intimidated me.

"Is the complaint about Dylan the only topic you wanted to raise?"

"Uhm.. well... yes..."

"Then you can go now, Hailie," he said prominently, his fingers finally clenching on his phone.

I sighed. Mission failed. I mumbled a goodbye to Vincent and left his office defeated. This is not what I expected. I didn't get anything done and Dylan will probably be even worse after what I presented today at the end of our training.

I passed a blond hair guard and a random thought came to my head - how many people I had no idea about were hanging around this house?

I took a shower and kicked my sports clothes in the corner of the bathroom, which was a sign of great frustration on my part, because I usually folded them into a neat cube, even if they were to go to the laundry.

Will said that most of the time I was expected to train alone to get myself in shape first. That's why I was going to the gym three times a week, as he recommended. I used to set my alarm clock for some inhumanly early hours to make sure I wouldn't meet any of my brothers there. With Dylan, I've had only three training sessions, and yet he was able to destroy already my walls of peace, which I had been building so slowly and carefully around me, lazing on a sunbed in Thailand.

I also missed school a little because life in the Monet's house was either boring (when the house was almost empty) or it turned into a struggle for survival (when too many of my brothers found themselves in one room). I felt like jumping out of joy when, at the end of summer, Mona finally came back from her family from Canada. We arranged the meeting immediately.

How much I missed it! The company of a friend, a girl, a peer! I was excited, like a small child, when Shane dropped me off in the mall parking lot. The same where I had a date with Jason. For a moment I felt a strange tension at the creepy thought that there probably was a bodyguard who would be dragging himself after me everywhere.

I stopped thinking about it as soon as I saw my friend. Mona was grinning at me from afar and we squeaked loudly when falling into each other's arms. We hugged together and when we finally let go, I gave her a careful look. She was beaming. Holidays probably served well to everyone.

Mona was a pretty girl. She had some exotic features, especially her eyes had a unique shape. They were warmly brown, just like her hair. Her round cheeks were flushed but after a while, I discovered that they were just skillfully covered with a blusher. Apparently her makeup skills improved because she really looked a lot nicer than when she thoughtlessly put tons of powder and mascara on her face.

She told me about her older sister who studies away and doesn't live with her anymore. She came to Canada for a few weeks, also to meet their family. She then made Mona aware that her daily makeup was (gently speaking) not really tasteful and taught her how to put it on the right way. I felt a sting of jealousy at it. Having an older sister must be a great thing...

"I have a new eyeshadow palette! We have to try it on you. Green would look amazing on you. And look at you, how tanned you are! Incredible. You have to tell me everything," she chattered, and I smiled and enjoyed my ears with girlish talk.

We walked a bit around the shops and talked about silly things but Mona promised me to reveal her secret to me when we would sit somewhere to eat. I was pushing her but she was too stubborn, so instead, I quickly stated that I was starving and we chose our favorite pizzeria, where we took one of the quiet tables.

"Please, promise me that you will keep it to yourself," Mona repeated for a thousand time.

"I promise. Come on, you know you can trust me."

Mona shifted in her chair, then sucked on her straw and began to drink her coke endlessly, until she came across my expectant look, which I gave her together with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay!" she spat, raising her head. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her, now swaying slightly back and forth. I noticed that her breasts grew a lot but maybe it was only the low-cut top and push-up bra that were doing their job.

"Well?" I urged her, slowly getting tired of her games.

"I think I love Tony," she said so quickly that the words almost blended together and I needed a few seconds to understand their meaning.

I frowned.

"What Tony?"

Mona tilted her head with the expression entitled "Are you freaking kidding me? Because it's not funny."

I felt as if she poured a bucket of water on me.

"Oooooooh!" I shouted a little too loudly and immediately covered my mouth with both hands.

My friend leaned forward to smack my hand for attracting unnecessary attention to us.

"You can't tell anyone about it, anyone. ANY-ONE. Even Marshall. Because I will die, I swear."

I lowered my hands but I looked at her with a twisted face.

"Mona, you don't love him at all," I said shaking my head.

"Then why there's been no even a one day for the whole two months that I wouldn't think about him? Every evening I imagined what it would be like if he was lying in my bed next to me..."

I covered my ears.

Mona reached across the table again to yank my wrist.

"I know it's your brother and it's hard for you to hear it but you are also my friend and you have duties to me."

"Why Tony?" I groaned.

"He has something ..." Mona sighed, looking dreamily at the counter.

I shuddered in disgust.

"Mona... it's... I don't know... I... Even Shane would be better."

"But I fell in love with Tony ... he ... he is so handsome ..."

"Well, he looks identical to Shane!" I shouted, rolling my eyes.

"But there is something with him... I don't know, maybe these tattoos..."

I looked at Mona who really drifted away in the depths of her own imagination that concealed who knows how dumb visions. I bit my lip. I had to save her.

"Mona," I started seriously, waiting for her to focus her attention on me. When it happened, I continued. "Tony is not boyfriend material. Whatever images of him you picture in your head, he is far from them. You deserve someone who will treat you with respect and who will really care about you. What Tony cares at most are big breasts."

My friend lowered her head and immediately lifted it up.

"I do have big breasts. And they are still growing."

I snuggled into my chair and lowered my hands.

Then the waitress brought our pizza. It was much too big for the two of us, but hey, small pizzas don't taste so good.

We chewed our food in silence for a while.

"Could you..." Mona began suddenly again, out of nowhere, quickly biting her tongue.

I looked at her miserably, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I knew that whatever she wanted to ask me for, I wouldn't like it.

"Could you at least make Tony follow me on Instagram?" she asked quietly, running her finger over the edge of the little jar with barbecue sauce.

I took a deep breath, putting my pizza away for a moment.

"How? He doesn't even follow me."

"Can you, I don't know, tell him about me? That you know the account of one hot girl..."

"You do realize he knows you're my friend? Besides, you can be sure that if I recommend anything to him, he will reject it right away."

A carefree meeting with Mona turned into a mission in which I had to prove to my friend that falling out of love with my brother would be the easiest and least painful way out of the situation for her. To clarify it, I still had a good time with her and we spent a really fantastic day together. It's been a long time since I've laughed so much at funny, girlish things. Tony's thread just kept popping up every now and then, and every time I had to keep watch to do my best to knock my brother out of Mona's head, which, deep down I felt, wasn't going well.

In a few days, the new school year was about to begin and I was looking forward to it, unaware that I would soon understand Mona because someone will also appear in my head. Someone, who I won't be able to kick out of it just like that as well.