Page 71 of The Wrong Brother

Thirty-Nine

JENNY

The days that follow are nothing short of a dream. I wake each morning wrapped in Zack’s arms, his touch a quiet promise that this, whatever this is, is real. We’ve perfected the art of secrecy…or maybe the family just chooses not to notice. If they suspect anything, they say nothing, leaving us in this fragile bubble of intimacy that feels both thrilling and terrifying.

But this morning is different. It’s the last full day before I leave for Paris, and the weight of it looms heavy in the air. Zack is seated in the armchair in the lounge area of his suite, a plate of toast balanced on the armrest. I’m moving around the room barefoot and wearing one of his oversized dress shirts. It’s crisp and white, and it smells like him…clean and warm, with a hint of the cologne I’ve come to associate with his presence.

“I can’t believe I’ve lived here all my life and never been in your room,” I say, glancing around. The suite is massive, an extension of the man himself. The ceilings soar, the wallslined with dark wood and understated art that speaks of wealth without flaunting it. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooks the estate grounds, and the light streaming through casts a golden glow on everything, softening the sharp edges of the modern furniture.

Zack watches me quietly, his expression unreadable as he butters a piece of toast with precise, deliberate movements. When he finally looks up, his gaze locks on mine, and he holds out the toast with a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low and steady.

I cross the room and settle at his feet, folding my legs beneath me. He leans down, offering the toast, and I take a bite. Peanut butter and jelly, the simplest thing, but it feels like so much more when it’s from his hand.

Zack sets the toast down as I chew, his gaze never leaving mine. There’s a softness there, but also something darker…something I can’t quite name. I swallow hard, the weight in my chest suddenly matching the thickness of the air between us.

“I need to leave for Paris tomorrow,” I say quietly, my voice betraying none of the ache that claws at my insides. “What’s your plan about coming with me?”

For a moment, he just looks at me, and I see the war waging behind his eyes. It’s the first time we’ve talked about it since he made that promise. I’ve held onto his words, believing in them because Zack isn’t the kind of man who breaks promises. But now, something about the way he avoids my gaze tells me this conversation won’t end the way I’ve imagined it.

He sighs, the sound heavy and resigned. “Jenny…” he begins, his voice low, careful. “I’ve thought about it. Really thought about it. But I can’t. I can’t leave everything here.”

My heart stops. “What?” The word comes out in a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter me completely.

“I wanted to make it work,” he says, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “But it’s not realistic. My life is here, my work, my family. I can’t just upend everything.”

I stare at him, struggling to process his words. “But you said…” My voice cracks, and I bite down on my lip to keep the tears at bay. “You said you’d come with me.”

“I know,” he replies, his tone cool now, detached. “But I wasn’t thinking clearly. My priority was you…not ruining the merger, not letting Brett get in the way. I was doing what I thought was best at the time.”

I’m in shock, but still, I manage to speak. “At the time, but… that was just a few days ago. How can you have changed your mind so drastically?”

Each word cuts deeper, stripping away the fragile hope I’d built around us. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath me. “So… all of it? Paris, us… was it all just a lie?”

His face hardens, the mask of the calculating businessman slipping back into place. “It wasn’t a lie,” he says evenly. “But I can’t give you what you want, Jenny. Not now. Not like this.”

I can’t breathe. The room spins around me as the enormity of his words sinks in. He doesn’t even flinch as he watches me unravel, as I rise to my feet, shaking. “You didn’t even try,” I choke out, grabbing my clothes from the back of the chair where they’re draped. “You made me believe you would, but you won’t.”

“Jenny, wait,” Zack says, his voice low but firm, as though he’s trying to maintain control of the situation. His eyes darken, a flicker of something…guilt? …crossing his face. “I didn’t mean for it to come out this way.”

I wait. Needing to hear this.

“How exactly did you mean for it to come out, Zack? Over dinner, maybe? Or were you planning to let me find out when I got to Paris alone, waiting for you?”

His jaw tightens, and he exhales sharply. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” I demand, my voice trembling. “Tell me why you would lie to me, why you would…would…use me like this.”

“I did it for the family,” he snaps, stepping closer. “To keep you away from Brett. From all of this. You don’t belong in this mess, Jenny. It’s toxic, and it’s?—”

“No,” I hold up my hand completely disinterested in hearing anymore. “No. Thanks for playing me like a game Zack. How brilliant. You won.”

I instantly start to gather my clothes.

He freezes, his expression hardening into something colder, sharper. “It wasn’t a game.”

I laugh bitterly, the sound hollow and foreign to my own ears. “Wasn’t it? Because from where I’m standing, that’s all it ever was to you. A way to win, to control everything around you.”

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