Page 30 of The Wrong Brother

"Of course," Simone replies smoothly.

I nod to myself, ending the call without another word. As I slip my phone into my pocket, my gaze shifts to the streets below. She’s done for the day, and if I know her, she’ll be trying to handle the city on her own again.

I call my chauffeur to meet me downstairs, and within minutes, I’m on my way to her. It’s not hard to find her…standing at a bus stop close to the Tod’s office, looking slightly frazzled but no less beautiful. She’s clutching her bag tightly, her shoulders tense as she waits. The sight of her, so stubbornly self-reliant, sparks equal parts irritation and admiration.

I step out of the car, my polished shoes clicking against the cobblestones as I approach her.

"Jenny," I call, my voice cutting through the ambient noise.

She turns, startled, and nearly drops her bag. Her eyes widen when she sees me, a flicker of something…relief… annoyance...crossing her face. "Zack," she says, her tone guarded. "What are you doing here?"

"I was nearby," I lie, gesturing to the bus stop. Its not a very good lie but yet she doesn't seem to notice or even care.

I step closer, noting the weariness in her posture, the thoughtful stillness in her eyes. She's calmer now, reflective, as if the day has settled something in her. There’s no defensiveness, just a quiet uncertainty that makes her look even more vulnerable.

"Come on," I say, gesturing toward the car. "I’ll take you back."

Her eyes linger on the bus stop for a moment before she speaks, her voice soft, reflective. “I thought I’d just walk around for a bit. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to see Rome like this again.”

There’s a wistfulness in her tone, an unspoken worry threading through her words. It’s not about sightseeing; it’s about something deeper. She most probably had a nerve-wracking day. According to Simone she was most likely under a lot of performance pressure especially from herself.

I step closer, keeping my voice low and steady. “You’ll see a lot more. This is just the beginning.”

She glances at me, her hazel eyes flickering with doubt. “Is it?”

I nod, watching her carefully. “Of course. You’re a model now. Travel comes with the territory.”

She holds my gaze for a moment, something unreadable in her expression, then looks away. “Am I?” she murmurs, almost to herself. Then, without waiting for a response, she turns and starts walking, her bag shifting on her shoulder.

I follow her, matching her pace as the cobblestone streets of Rome unfold around us. The air is warm, the city alive with its usual rhythm…street performers strumming guitars, couples strolling hand in hand, the distant hum of Vespas weaving through traffic. For a while, we don’t speak, the silence between us comfortable yet heavy with unspoken thoughts.

We pass a small piazza where a fountain sparkles under the evening light. I catch her glancing at it, her steps slowing slightly. “How was your first day?” I ask, breaking the quiet.

She exhales softly, her gaze fixed ahead. “It was… good,” she says, though her tone carries hesitation. “Different. A lot to take in.”

I nod, keeping my tone casual. “It’ll get easier. First days always feel like that…like everything’s too big, too much. But you’ll find your rhythm.”

She looks up at me, her brow furrowing slightly. “Why are you walking with me?” she asks, not accusing, just curious.

I pause for a beat, considering how to answer. “You’re done with work for the day,” I say finally. “I want dinner, and I thought of you.”

The words feel strange even as I say them. I don’t think about people like this, not normally. But with her, it’s different. I actually mean it and I’m just as taken aback as she is. She doesn’t press me for more, though I can tell the answer surprises her as much as it surprises me.

We continue walking, the city unfolding around us like a living postcard. We pass a gelateria, its bright awning spilling light onto the sidewalk. I stop, nodding toward it. “Gelato?”

She hesitates, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

I glance at her as we pass the gelateria, its warm light spilling onto the cobblestone street. The faint hum of chatter and the rich, creamy scent of gelato hang in the air. I stop, nodding toward the entrance. “Come on. Ice cream’s always a good idea.”

She hesitates, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. "I’m not really in the mood."

I step closer, lowering my voice slightly. "Hazelnut and chocolate. That’s your favorite, isn’t it?"

Her brows lift in surprise, and for the first time tonight, I catch a flicker of emotion breaking through her distracted calm. "How do you know that?"

I shrug lightly, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “It might be easy to forget this but I’ve known you since you were a baby. Come on. You’ve had a long day. Let’s get something to take the edge off.”

She hesitates, glancing toward the glowing interior of the gelateria, her expression softening but still tinged with uncertainty. “Okay,” she murmurs finally, letting out a quiet sigh.

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