Page 19 of The Wrong Brother

She’s watching me now, her eyes a little softer, searching, like she’s gauging my reaction, hoping, maybe, for some kind of approval. But I give her none, not yet. I let the silence linger, the hum of the plane surrounding us, her every subtle shift under my gaze drawing my attention.

The attendant appears, placing our trays before us, the elegant plates with poached eggs, smoked salmon, fresh croissants, and fruit artfully arranged. I catch her watching me as I start to eat,eyes flicking from my hands to my mouth, before she quickly looks away, focused on her own plate.

There’s something raw, almost palpable, in the tension simmering between us, an energy that’s as intoxicating as it is dangerous.

“So, what about you?” She asks finally, breaking the silence, her voice hesitant, as if she’s treading on unfamiliar ground. “Why Rome?”

“Business,” I say simply, cutting into my food with deliberate precision, savoring the pause. “It’s always business. This is just… another project.”

“Oh.” Her voice is soft, a little lost, and I sense her trying to piece together what drives me, what keeps me bound to this endless rotation of deals and contracts.

She tilts her head, curiosity lighting up her eyes. "Do you enjoy your work?"

I let a slow smile creep across my face. "Enjoy it?" I pause, letting the weight of the question settle. "I enjoy the benefits," I say, watching her reaction. "The power that comes with it."

Her eyes narrow a bit, a hint of wariness mixing with intrigue. "Power to control everyone, right?"

I don’t hesitate. "Yes. Power to control... and the power to take someone nobody knows and get her an international modeling contract by twenty."

Her mouth opens slightly, clearly caught off guard. For a second, she's stunned into silence, and then…she laughs. Loud and genuine, the sound surprising even her. "Touché," she says, nodding, clearly amused. “Guess I owe you a thanks for that.”

I watch her laugh, the sound so unexpected that it catches me off guard. I’m used to defiance and arguments…but this? This open, amused reaction? It makes me pause.I raise an eyebrow, still leaning back, intrigued. “Doesn’t sound like a thank you,” I say, just enough edge in my voice to keep things interesting.

She stops laughing, but a smirk remains. “Yeah?” she says, lifting her chin, a spark in her eyes. “Thank you, Zack. For giving a ‘nobody’ like me a shot.”

There’s a challenge in her voice, but underneath it, there’s something real, something unguarded. I realize she’s holding her ground but, strangely, meaning it. And it’s that honesty, that little crack in her defenses, that keeps my gaze locked on her.

“You’re welcome,” I murmur, watching her closely. “Even if you don’t need anyone’s help… I still think you’ll make the most of it.”

Chapter

Fifteen

JENNY

It’s after breakfast and I can’t stop sneaking glances at him. The way the sunlight filters through the plane window and hits Zack just right, illuminating his profile—strong jaw, focused gaze, his dark blue eyes on his tablet. He’s in a tailored suit, but there’s this raw intensity to him, like he could just tear out of it any second. I can barely breathe. Every glance I steal makes my heart pound harder, and I feel the heat crawling up my cheeks. He’s Brett’s brother, and yet he couldn’t be more different.

Unable to hold back, I pull out my phone and text Camille, my best friend from Paris boarding school. If there’s anyone who’ll understand how twisted up I feel, it’s her.

Me: I’m losing it.

Camille: Why?

Me: I’m with Zack. We’re on our way to Rome, and this plane is suddenly too hot. I think I want him to kiss me again.

Camille: What? Zack! Brett’s brother?

Me: Yes, exactly. It’s insane. It’s not even like I really fancy him... but I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. I’m still hung up on it, and I can’t get it out of my mind.

Camille: It must be because you hate him.

Me: Maybe... but it’s different with Brett. With Brett, I’m usually excited... but with Zack, it’s... intense.

Her reply comes with a string of laughing emojis.

Camille: You’re in a tough spot, my dear. But I’m at work, so no more texts. Call me if you want.”

I glance over at Zack, gauging if he understands any French. He looks deeply focused on his tablet, so I clear my throat. “Do you uh by any chance speak French?”

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