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‘I didn’t sneak in to cause trouble,’ I continue. ‘And I definitely didn’t sneak in to case the house. All I care about is Bryn.’

That annoys her. I can tell from the way the corners of her mouth dip like she’s eaten something sour. An unsettling silence stretches between us as she studies me again, as if she’s recalculating. I think she’s realising I’m not intimidated by her attitude – or her looks.

Finally, she smiles, eyes glinting like she’s just discovered something. ‘You’re interesting, Ash.’

I give a half-smile back, not rising to it. ‘You too, Isla.’

A quick spark of surprise flashes across her face. ‘You know my name.’

‘I do,’ I reply. ‘Names are important. Especially when you want to keep track of someone.’

Her lips twitch, and that same teasing glint is in her eyes, but now there’s something else too. A hint of calculation. ‘Oh? And what exactly have you been keeping track of, Ash?’

I lift one brow, matching her curiosity without giving much away. ‘Enough to know what Bryn doesn’t.’

Her expression shifts just slightly, her amusement edged with intrigue. She’s not used to this. Usually, she gets the upper hand just by walking into a room, but right now, she’s genuinely wondering how much I know, how much I notice, and what I might be referring to. She tilts her head, studying me, trying to gauge if I’m bluffing. I can see that she is used to being in control, that she wants to predict what’s coming next, and her small irritation at knowing that she can’t quite read me.

‘What is it that you think you know?’

I hesitate. There’s tension there under the surface, something she doesn’t want me to see. My gut twists. I know she’s hiding something from Bryn, from everyone around her, but I see through the bullshit. I suspect she knows what I know and doesn’t want to admit I’m right.

Isla circles the counter slowly, studying me like I’m a puzzle she’s decided to solve. ‘You’re different to how Bryn described you.’

I shrug again, deliberately casual. ‘People always sound better in someone else’s stories.’

I can see it now: this is her thing. She steps into Bryn’s space, taking what she can just because she can. Not out of malice exactly, but more out of habit. It’s as though she’s never had to ask for attention before, because everyone gives it to her willingly. It’s easy for her. But I’m not a prize to collect. A pretty face and confidence won’t soften me. I hold her gaze steadily, unimpressed, and let the moment stretch until she shifts first. That seems to annoy her almost as much as it intrigues her.

She tilts her head, letting her hair fall just right across one shoulder. Her smirk is teasing and full of mischief.

‘Maybe,’ she says, her voice flirtatious, a clear deflection. ‘Or maybe I just want to see if you can handle someone like me.’

Isla is good at charming people. She has a fluid ability to switch instantly from serious to playful and magnetic. She knows how to lure people in. How to press the right buttons.

‘Come swimming with me,’ she says suddenly, like it’s the most natural thing. Her fingers curl around the edge of her shirt before she peels it off, revealing a lacy bra underneath that barely contains her breasts.

I’m not surprised. I should be, but I’m not. After what Bryn has said about her and things she has done in the past, this is very predictable behaviour. I let my lips curl into a faint, sardonic smile.

‘Oh, I see how it is,’ I say. ‘You want what Bryn has. You always do.’

‘Maybe I do,’ she says lightly, teasing me to see if I’ll rise to it.

‘Good luck with that. I’m not someone you can take from her.’

She laughs, brushing past me as if daring me to follow. ‘Come on, Ash, you can’t deny that you want to come in with me,’ she says, glancing over her shoulder, clearly enjoying that I’m matching her fire. She reaches around and unclips her bra, and I stay where I am, shocked she’s gone this far. Crossing my arms across my chest, my jaw flexes, and I keep my eyes on hers. She’s exactly the kind of person who thinks they can charm their way into getting whatever they want.

‘I hope you’re ready for disappointment,’ I tell her dryly.

Her grin widens as she turns to face me, planting her hands on her hips, completely unashamed.

‘Disappointment? Oh, Ash, I don’t know the meaning of that word.’

‘We’ll see about that.’

Her eyes dart to mine, challenge blazing in them, and I can tell she’s a little thrown off.

‘You’re cocky,’ she says.

‘Not cocky,’ I reply, smirking. ‘Just sure of what I want. I’ve been warned about you.’