Page 64 of The Wrong Brother

“Soon,” I promise, the warmth in his tone seeping into me, easing the tightness in my chest. “Are you at home now?”

“Not yet,” he says, a trace of regret in his voice. “I’m out in the city, but I’ll come check on you as soon as I’m back. You can count on that.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” I say, my lips curving into a smile despite the lingering heaviness in my heart.

We talk a little longer, his questions easy and his laughter infectious, until the call ends and the room falls silent once more. I set the phone down, staring at it for a moment.

For those few minutes, it had been easy to forget the weight pressing down on me. Brett’s charm had been a distraction, a reprieve. But now, the ache in my chest returns, sharper than before, as if reminding me that it’s not Brett I can’t stop thinking about.

It’s Zack.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

ZACK

The steady rhythm of my pen against the desk is the only sound in my office. The morning has been uneventful so far…just as I prefer. My schedule is packed, the hours already blocked out with meetings and reports, but at least here, within these four walls, there’s a sense of control. Everything in it's place. Predictable. Or at least it should feel that way.

Instead, my focus drifts, slipping between the cracks of the tasks I’ve set for myself. The trip with Jenny looms in the back of my mind, casting shadows over my carefully organized thoughts. What was supposed to be a straightforward distraction, a calculated move to steer her away from Brett, had turned into something far more complicated. And now, the aftermath weighs on me like an anchor.

The trip wasn’t necessary, I tell myself again for what feels like the hundredth time. It wasn’t urgent. I could’ve left things as they were, let her linger in her infatuation with Brett while the merger fell into place. But no. I had to step in. I had to play mypart, the puppeteer pulling strings to control an outcome that’s now slipping from my grasp.

My pen stills mid-stroke as the memory of her voice surfaces, unbidden…her laughter, yes, but more than that. The way she spoke to me, her words so effortlessly weaving between sharp wit and unguarded sincerity. It had been too easy to lose myself in those conversations, to forget why I’d orchestrated this charade in the first place. And then there was her body. The way it moved beneath mine, the heat of her skin against my own, the way she unraveled under my touch…it had been intoxicating. Fucking her hadn’t just felt good; it had felt inevitable, like I was claiming something I hadn’t known I needed until she was there, offering it so completely. Being with her, in every sense, had felt right in a way I couldn’t afford to admit.

Each moment we spent together…exploring ruins, sharing meals, even the quiet hours in the suite…chipped away at the walls I’ve spent years building around myself. Walls that should have remained intact. Impenetrable.

But no. She’d gotten through.

The realization stings, it makes me feel like a monumental failure and it has been a very, very long time since I have felt this way in any aspect of my life. Jenny was supposed to forget Brett. That was the goal. To entice her completely, to shift her focus so entirely that she wouldn’t even remember the boy who’d never deserved her devotion. But instead, she hadn’t and I’m the one left in emotional straits.

I drop the pen onto the desk and lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. The mountain of work before me should feel like a welcome distraction, a chance to reassert control. Instead, it feels like a mockery. The deals and deadlines blur together, insignificant compared to the storm I’ve unleashed. The thought of her with Brett gnaws at me, a constant, unwelcome presence in the back of my mind.

She’s back home now, probably settling into the comfort of familiar surroundings, reconnecting with people who adore her in ways I never could. People like Brett, who’ll swoop in with his charm and ease, who’ll make her smile with effortless grace. And me? I’m here, drowning in the consequences of my own actions, pretending that everything is fine.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I straighten in my chair, forcing the mask of indifference back into place. Whatever this day throws at me, I’ll handle it. I always do. But as the door creaks open, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to untangle myself from the mess I’ve created. Or from her.

Turns out it’s Brett, and my eyes almost can’t believe it. Speak of the devil, literally.

He bursts in, grinning like a cat that’s just found its next meal.

“Morning, big brother,” Brett chirps as he strolls into my office, exuding the kind of confidence that only comes from never facing consequences. He collapses into the chair opposite me with practiced ease, tossing one leg over the other and looking far too cheerful for this early hour. “You’ll be thrilled to know I have plans tonight.”

I glance up briefly from my desk, masking my irritation. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you consider dinner at home scandalous,” he says, smirking.

My pen stills against the paper. “At home? Since when do you host dinners at the house?”

His grin widens, the kind that makes me instinctively brace for trouble. “It’s just Jenny. Nothing remotely controversial.”

Her name hits me like a jolt, though I force myself to maintain a façade of indifference. Leaning back in my chair, I fold my hands together, steepling my fingers. “Jenny,” I repeat,keeping my voice measured. “And why, exactly, is this dinner happening at home?”

“Convenience,” Brett replies with a nonchalant shrug. “Plus, Elizabeth has been on my case lately, combing through my schedule like I’m some wayward teenager. The last thing I need is her catching wind of me entertaining a ‘friend’ at a restaurant.”

“You’re treading on thin ice with her,” I say, my voice clipped. “And entertaining Jenny at the house isn’t exactly a subtle move.”

“She’s like family, and she lives there,” Brett insists, waving a hand dismissively. “You act like I’m planning an elopement.”

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