Page 70 of The Wrong Husband
That, Gramps does. Normally, it has to do with getting us brothers married off. But given it’s only me and Brody left now, I wonder if he’s not looking at fresh pastures. "Maybe, he thinks the three of them need help with setting down?" I chuckle.
Brody shoots me a disbelieving look. "Like they want Arthur meddling in their personal lives?"
"Have any of us?"
The two of us exchange a smirk.
Brody’s phone vibrates. He pulls it out, reads the message, and chuckles—low and deep. A sound I’ve never heard from him before. Then he taps out a quick reply, still grinning like he’s got a secret, and leans back in his seat with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“What was that all about?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
His expression flickers, the smirk vanishing so fast, it’s almost comical. He schools his features into bland neutrality, as if I’ve caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Just making sure my assistant’s staying on her toes.”
“You mean, making her life a living hell with enough work to drive three people into burnout?” I scoff.
He lifts a shoulder. “Actually”—a furrow appears between his brows— “she’s the only one who hasn’t quit on me. She’s lasted the longest of any assistant I’ve had. That’s saying something.”
His tone is off. Curious. Like he’s trying to puzzle something out and doesn’t quite like how close he’s getting to the answer.
“Maybe, instead of testing her endurance, you could try not weaponizing your to-do lists?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he murmurs, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes now. “Her eyes spark when she’s annoyed. And when she bites back—she’s quick, wicked-smart. Challenges me. Doesn’t flinch. It’s…exhilarating.”
I stare at him. My eternally grumpy brother, who scares interns with a single glance, sounds almost dreamy. Like he’s replaying some particularly enjoyable verbal sparring match and wishing it weren’t over.
“Careful,” I say, voice low, “you sound like a man who’s starting to enjoy the chase.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” I tilt my head. “You’ve never noticed the color of your assistant’s eyes before. Let alone, commented on how they spark.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he gives a derisive chuckle.
But there’s color rising on his neck. He wears the ‘I’m too late to hide it, so I’ll bury it under sarcasm’ look.
Classic Brody.
“I’m just saying”—I lean back, let my words land—“watch out. You keep playing with fire, you might trip into it.”
He snorts. “I’ve never lost control of a situation in my life.”
And yet, from the way he glances at his phone again—like he’s hoping for another message—I’m not so sure.
"What are you two cackling about?" James, who’s broken away from his trio, approaches us. "You seem like you’re up to no good."
"Not us." I nod in Arthur’s direction. He’s holding court on the comfortable settee which has been pulled up close to the fireplace. It’s a balmy summer evening, yet he has the fire on inside the library. Arthur beat the Big C recently. Still, he looks healthy, with glowing cheeks. And when he looks at his girlfriend Imelda, there’s a look of contentment on his face. Right now, she’s talking with a man I don’t recognize.
"Who’s that?" I nod in his direction.
"You don’t know Adrian Sovrano?" James asks, surprised.
"He looks different, almost unrecognizable." Man must have been working out, for he’s put on some serious muscle.
"He’s been away, traveling. But with Michael having returned to Italy on a temporary basis to take care of his children, and the rest of the Sovranos busy with their families, they needed help running their family business." Brody shrugs.
Since having lost his wife, Michael has retreated from the business world. “What about these rumors that Karma is alive and that he faked her death to keep her safe from his enemies?”
I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but… Michael’s the former capo of the Cosa Nostra, turned business tycoon. Everything he does is of interest to the business world—and the underworld—which puts him on my radar.
