Page 36 of The Wrong Brother

This suddenly makes me laugh out loud because my dad, as well as a step-worker I grew up with, always says the same thing.

I’m reliving my time with him, I realize, even though I know I shouldn’t be. And soon, I resolve to settle my nerves and treat this simply as what it is…two acquaintances sharing a meal together. I fill up my glass once again and turn my focus to the wine.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

ZACH

"Let’s go dancing," she says suddenly, her voice light, her hazel eyes sparkling with just enough mischief to make my pulse quicken.

The words catch me off guard. I glance at her, taking in the faint flush on her cheeks and the slight tilt of her lips…a mix of challenge and playfulness. The wine has softened her edges, revealing a side of her I don’t often see. It’s disarming. And dangerous.

"Dancing?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral even as my mind scrambles to understand what’s shifted.

"Yes," she says, leaning forward slightly, her fingers brushing the table as if her excitement can’t be contained. Her dress pulls down her chest as she moves, revealing the swell of her breasts in ways that make it hard to focus. “There should be a club not too far from here,” she says as she pulls out her phone.

I ignore this and her as I pick up my wine to drain, hoping she soon abandons this completely nonsensical idea. Iglance around the restaurant, my gaze sweeping over the elegant women scattered at nearby tables. They’re stunning, each one polished to perfection. Yet none of them hold my attention the way she does. Even in her understated satin dress and sneakers, she commands the room…effortlessly striking in a way that makes it impossible to look anywhere else.

However, a few minutes later she exclaims much too loudly. A few heads tun and my eyes go wide.

“Sorry,” she says, her cheeks turning red. “I’m sorry.”

“Here,” she turns her phone screen to my face.”

“There is one and it’s not far. It’s dark now…they should’ve started by now. I just want to dance for a little bit. Shake off the day."

I’m about to reject the idea outright. I don’t do clubs. Loud music and sweaty crowds have never been my thing. But then I catch the way she looks at me, the faint glimmer of expectation in her eyes, and something inside me hesitates.

"You can leave, you know," she says, leaning back in her chair with an air of nonchalance, though I can see the challenge flickering beneath the surface. "Head back to the hotel. I’m just telling you what I’m doing."

Her words are a dismissal, but the thought of leaving her alone…vulnerable, even slightly intoxicated…grates against every instinct I have. My jaw tightens.

"Fine," I say finally, my voice low, deliberate. "Let’s go."

Her face lights up instantly, her smile wide and unguarded, and for a moment, I forget why this is such a bad idea. She’s radiant, and the light in her eyes is infectious. My chest tightens at the sight, the tension in me softening ever so slightly.

As she leans forward to pick up the wine bottle, her breasts once again presses against the edge of the table. My gaze flickers there despite myself, the sight stirring something primal that I force back. I glance away, shaking my head slightly as if to clearit, but when I look up again, she’s already rising from her chair, the excitement practically radiating off her.

This was definitely a terrible idea. But as I follow her out of the restaurant, I can’t seem to make myself care.

The drive is quick, the club pulsing with life as soon as we step out of the car. The music thrums through the air, vibrating in my chest, and I already regret this. Inside, it’s a chaos of flashing lights, bodies pressed together, and a heat that’s almost suffocating.

Jenny seems to come alive in the atmosphere, her head tilted back slightly as she takes it all in. I watch her, caught between irritation at the noise and an unexpected fascination with how the environment seems to suit her.

“I’ll get us drinks,” I say, raising my voice over the music. She nods, already making her way towards the dance floor.

At the bar, I order something simple…a whiskey for me and a lighter cocktail for her. When I turn back, I see her swaying to the music, her satin dress catching the light in ways that make my throat tighten. Men notice her, of course they do, their gazes lingering too long, some edging closer.

I grip my glass tighter, the coolness of it biting into my palm as my jaw locks. Across the dance floor, a man steps too close to her, his intentions written all over his face. He leans in, his hand hovering near her waist, trying to press into her space. She brushes him off with a polite smile, stepping back with a soft laugh that seems to only spur him on.

My chest tightens, a heat building inside me that I don’t want to name. I force myself to look away, focusing on the amber liquid swirling in my glass. I take a long sip, hoping the burn of the alcohol will drown out the burn in my veins.

But it’s futile. My eyes find her again as if drawn by a force beyond me. She moves with the music, her body fluid and effortless, the light catching the sheen of her satin dress as itclings to her curves. Her smile is soft, unguarded, and the way she loses herself in the rhythm is magnetic.

It’s maddening…how much she commands my attention, how she doesn’t even notice the effect she has. The pull of her is intoxicating, and I hate it. But no amount of rationality can stop the way my chest tightens every time another man circles too close, their gazes lingering far too long on what isn’t theirs to admire.

I grip my glass tighter, my knuckles whitening. The irritation thrums low and hot beneath my skin, each laugh she gives them like fuel to a fire I can’t seem to control. I want to step in, to end it, but I hold myself back. She’s entitled to enjoy herself.

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