Page 18 of The Wrong Brother

I stand there, mesmerized, as he throws another punch. His brow is furrowed, beads of sweat trailing down his temple. He takes a step back, grabs a bottle of water, and notices me standing at the doorway.

“Well?” His gaze flicks over me, eyes sharp and unamused. “What are you doing here? Why are you up so early?”

I swallow, caught off guard by the intensity of his presence, and force myself to look directly at him. “I wanted… I mean, I need a favor.” My words come out softer than I intended, almost hesitant, but I don’t let myself back down.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “A favor?” He repeats, the skepticism unmistakable. “At this hour?”

“Yes,” I reply, steeling myself, trying to hold onto my resolve. “I… I need a ride to Rome. Since Tod’s isn’t covering travel, not until I’m officially signed on. You said I could go with you.”

His gaze lingers on me, unreadable, but there’s something behind his eyes…a flicker, almost too fleeting to catch. He sets the water bottle down, and I watch as a bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, catching in the hollow of his collarbone before disappearing beneath his shirt. I feel my pulse quicken, and I hate that my eyes follow the movement.

A part of me expected him to refuse, but in the end, and I am certain to get me out of the way, he agrees.

“Sure.”

Chapter

Fourteen

ZACK

In the early morning light, my sleek black Mercedes pulls up onto the tarmac, the plane looming ahead, an impressive sight as always. I let myself exhale, feeling a rare flicker of anticipation…though it's not entirely because of the trip. I’m on the phone, wrapping up a call with a client who has been dragging on about petty contractual details. As the door opens, I step out, my gaze briefly flicking toward the jet where I spot Jenny already seated, looking, surprisingly, on time for once. I nod to the flight attendant waiting at the bottom of the stairs, allowing my bag to be whisked away as I stride up.

“Let’s finalize that on Tuesday,” I say into the phone, a little impatient now, my eyes fixed on Jenny’s profile through the window. She’s scrolling through her phone, seemingly oblivious to my arrival. Good, I think, as I finally end the call and slip my phone into my pocket, heading up the stairs.

Inside, the attendant greets me, her smile perfectly trained, and I settle into the seat opposite Jenny…luxuriously spacious, and, regrettably for the moment, too comfortable. Jenny barely glances up, lost in whatever she’s doing, her legs tucked up on the seat as she scrolls.

After a moment, she notices me watching her and turns. “Hi,” she says simply, looking slightly wary, as if unsure what to expect.

“Hi,” I reply, letting a small smile curve at the edges of my mouth. She blinks, looking caught off-guard, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, wondering why I’m being civil.

Seeing that little frown on her face doesn’t escape me. I lean back, letting an idea take shape.

“Your father reads all the time, doesn’t he?” I say, raising an eyebrow as I nod toward her phone. “But I’m guessing you’re just scrolling through social media?”

She narrows her eyes, irritation flashing across them. “Actually, I am reading,” she replies, tone defiant, tilting her phone toward me so I can see the text on display. “See? But, of course, you’d assume otherwise.”

I can’t help the slight smirk that forms as I observe her, watching how her posture shifts, chin lifting a fraction in that way she does when she’s proving a point.

Amused, I let my gaze linger on her, taking in the way she sits, almost smug, chin tilted slightly, that little look daring me to push her buttons just a bit more. But as my eyes drift lower, my amusement fades into something darker, something I can’t quite restrain. That cropped top clings tightly across her chest, pressing against the fullness of her breasts, and there’s no hiding the way her hard nipples push against the fabric, taunting me with what lies underneath.

She’s ditched her usual prim outfits for jogger pants and that tight little top, and, damn it, it’s doing something to me I hadn’t expected. Those curves look different in this light, in this setting. My eyes trace the shape of her body, taking in every line and dip, the thin fabric hinting at what I’m not supposed to be noticing.

“You’re really not a kid after all,” I remark, my voice dropping a notch, and her cheeks flush almost instantly, though she holds her ground, meeting my gaze with steady defiance.

“And you’re still judgmental, apparently,” she says, smirking a little as she crosses her arms. “Guess some things don’t change.”

“Not everything,” I concede, leaning back, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling my sleeves up as casually as I can, feeling her eyes drift over my forearms, the hint of exposed skin drawing her attention. I can tell she’s noticing, taking in the way I’m easing into a less formal posture. “Tell me, then, Ms. Professional…how serious are you about modeling? Or is this just a way to kill time until something more... ‘respectable’ comes along?”

She bristles, clearly taking the bait. “What, you don’t think I’m serious?” Her voice sharpens, her lips pressing into a line. “I’ve been working at it for years, even in Paris. I was modeling for a local brand there.”

I nod, letting my eyes linger on her as I contemplate her words. “So you want to take this further. Internationally. Aiming high?”

Her gaze meets mine, almost challenging. “Of course. This is my chance to do something for myself. Not just to be… here.”

Interesting. I keep my expression neutral, but inside, I feel a strange satisfaction at hearing her say it—that she wants more than just lingering around Brett, more than this small world she’s known. But I keep my tone casual as I ask, “So, no plans for college or anything outside of this?”

She hesitates, eyes flicking down before meeting mine again. “Modeling is what I want right now. College… maybe one day. But this feels like something real, something I can actually achieve.”

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