Page 46 of The Wrong Brother

“Um.. why?” I ask, my chest tightening.

“The morning-after pill. I’ll have it sent to your location as soon as possible.”

My cheeks flush hot, a mix of embarrassment and something else I can’t quite name. His words are practical, responsible, but they still leave me feeling exposed, vulnerable.

“Oh okay, Thank you. I’ll be at Castel Sant’Angelo.”

“Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” I manage finally, my voice barely audible. I hang up quickly, my hands trembling as I shove the phone into my bag.

There’s really no need for me to be this nervous and on edge, but I can’t help it. I find myself nearly tiptoeing out from my room into the foyer, and only when I shut the door to the suite behind me do I finally breathe.

The shoot at Castel Sant’Angelo is already in full swing, but I can barely focus. The setting is breathtaking…the ancient fortress rising against the clear Roman sky, a perfect backdrop for the sleek luxury of Tod’s. The photographer barks directions, his voice cutting through the buzz of the crew, but his words barely register. My mind is a mess, my body still reeling from the night before.

As I pose in the soft leather jacket and ankle boots they’ve styled me in, I catch myself stealing glances at the entrance, wondering if Zack will show up. My stomach flips at the thought, and I curse myself for letting him invade my head like this.

The heat of the midday sun is almost oppressive, and I excuse myself to grab some water. Just as I reach for a bottle, my phone buzzes insistently in my bag. I pull it out, seeing Zack’s name flash on the screen.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Did the driver find you?” His voice is calm but direct, laced with something that sounds suspiciously like concern.

I glance around, spotting the sleek black car parked discreetly near the set. “Yeah, he’s here.”

“Good.” There’s a pause, and I can almost picture him on the other end, his jaw tight, his gray eyes focused. “Make sure you take it, Jenny. Don’t forget.”

The clinical nature of the reminder makes my cheeks flush, but there’s no mistaking the care beneath his words. “I know,” I reply quickly, wishing my voice sounded steadier. “I will.”

“Good,” he says again, softer this time. “What time do you finish?”

“Probably around two,” I say, my fingers tightening around the bottle of water. “Why?”

“I’ll be close by. Let’s grab lunch after,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The casualness of his suggestion, the way he acts like this is perfectly normal, throws me. “You don’t have to?—”

“I’ll see you then, Jenny,” he cuts me off gently, but firmly, before ending the call.

I stare at the screen, my heart racing. The phone feels heavier in my hand as I shove it back into my bag, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead blanket.

The driver approaches me with the small, discreet package. My cheeks burn as I take it, muttering a quiet thanks before slipping it into my bag. The other girls on set notice, their eyes darting between the car and me, their whispers carrying just enough for me to catch.

“So you do have connections,” one of them says. “How lucky.”

I ignore them because my insides are churning for completely different reasons.

At two we wrap up earlier than expected but to my surprise, I spot the car waiting for me again.

For a brief, irrational moment, I think he’s inside, but when the door opens, it’s only the driver.

“Mr. Jackson asked me to take you to him,” the driver says, his tone polite but professional. “He’s nearby.”

My pulse quickens as I climb into the car, my mind racing. Lunch. It’s just lunch, I tell myself, trying to tamp down the flurry of emotions. But when I see him waiting outside the small café, looking impossibly put together in a navy button-up that makes his gray eyes even sharper, I know it’s not just lunch. Not for me.

It’s about Zack…the way he makes my heart race and my knees weak, the way he’s managed to slip under my skin without me even realizing it.

As I step out of the car, Zack’s gaze locks onto mine, his expression unreadable but intense. He holds the door open for me, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and the simple contact sends a shiver down my spine.

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