Page 47 of Cinderella's Fling with the Off-Limits Billionaire

They ordered a couple of slices from a place with glowing fluorescent lights and ate as they continued to walk, talking, looking at the cityscape. It was one of those picture-perfect moments that etched itself deep in Skye’s memory almost without her consent, so that without realizing it, their late night walk through the streets of Manhattan would become something she could never forget. Not for any particularly significant reason, or perhaps there was significance in this. The ordinary magic of it all—a contradiction in terms that just seemed to perfectly sum up their relationship.

Skye didn’t overthink it. She was happy, and she was relaxed, and she just wanted to soak up those feelings. She wasn’t stupid enough to think it could last forever.

“This has to stop.” Max strode into the office Leandro was working out of, his dark eyes boring into Leandro’s.

Leandro fixed him with a steady gaze in return and didn’t move from where he sat.

“Our mother is distraught. What’s going on?”

Leandro startled. His family had been tiptoeing around his absence, taking his excuses with the appearance of acceptance. After that first confrontation with Emme in the hotel, no one had called him on this, and that was just what he wanted.

But now, a month on from the wedding, he supposed his disappearance was wearing thin. They were a close-knit family; it was not usual for one of them to simply fade into the background.

“Ask her,” Leandro snapped, then wished he’d said nothing because Max’s eyes narrowed in that assessing way he had.

“I have. And our father. Niente. But clearly you have argued with them, and I presume over something significant. So what is it?”

Leandro’s jaw worked overtime. “Leave it be.”

“Not when you’re acting like such a shit. Our parents deserve better than this.”

Leandro flinched, jerking to his feet, unable to bear this conversation. Not with Max, whom he’d always shared things with. His brother, no longer a brother. The loss was immense. Leandro had lost so much, but so had Max and Emme. They would have to grapple with this too. Their parents had betrayed all of them. He wasn’t ready to throw that grenade into their lives. Was that why he’d stayed away? Because it wasn’t like him to hide out. It wasn’t like him to bury himself in a fantasy, like his life here with Skye, rather than face the music. He was someone who’d always tackled problems head on, yet here he was, ignoring his family, as though time might make it all go away.

“Just leave it,” he snapped.

But Max wouldn’t leave it. Of course he wouldn’t. He stalked towards Leandro, until he was right up in his face. “What the hell has happened?”

Leandro flinched. “I need space.”

“From us?” Max looked appalled, as though the idea had never occurred to him. Which was spectacularly unfair, all things considered. After Max’s best friend had died, Max had taken himself off to lick his wounds, had pushed all of them away, and the family had respected that. For the most part. Okay, Leandro had gone to check on him a few times, and Max had told him to get the hell away, and Leandro hadn’t always listened.

Because his brother had been suffering, and Leandro had been worried.

“I have never known you to act like this,” Max said, his voice deep with emotions. Worry. Surprise. Anger.

“Perhaps you just don’t know me at all.”

“Hey,” now anger came to the fore, and Max pressed his fingers into Leo’s chest. “What the hell does that mean?” But there was concern etched in the lines around his eyes.

“It means you should go. Leave me alone.”

“Umm, guys?” A female voice cut through their argument. Andie, Max’s wife, stood in the doorway, a frown on her face. “You might want to keep it down a bit.”

Max glanced at her and offered an apologetic grimace, but Leandro’s temper had flared to life. He pushed Max in the chest, hard. “I told you, leave this alone.”

It was like they were boys again. Boys who, once upon a time, had played until their wrestling grew heated and then they’d fought, and fought hard. It wasn’t born from enmity, it was just how they’d been. And how they still were, apparently, because the next minute, Max’s arms were wrapped around Leandro’s waist and they were locked in a wrestling grip, each pushing and shoving the other with all their might, neither conscious of the way Andie gasped in shock. Leandro wasn’t sure afterwards if he punched first or if Max did, but suddenly fists were flying and it felt good in that moment, because Leandro was so angry. He was angry even with Max, when none of this was his fault. Angry and sad and hurt, and deep down, though he wasn’t ready to admit it, afraid. Afraid of what he would be to them when they learned the truth. Afraid of what he wasn’t: a brother.

“Stop this,” Andie, for all her slight frame, was suddenly between them, pushing her hands at their chests and it was enough for Max to step back immediately, rather than risk Andie being collateral damage.

Leandro too.

Both men dropped their hands to their sides, their breathing rough.

“What on earth has gotten into you guys?”

She looked from one to the other, appalled, but it was Max she moved to comfort, naturally, lifting a hand and touching a dark red bruise on his cheek. Max winced, and so did Leandro. He had no doubt sustained similar injuries but it brought him absolutely no pleasure to see that on his brother’s face.

“I told you to leave it,” Leandro said, ignoring Andie. He strode to his desk, picked up his cell phone and keys and then walked out of the office, aware of the way the remaining few staff members craned to catch sight of him.

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