Page 37 of Bossy Ex's Brother

Ah, I see. Brandon was just being his usual nosy self.

I let my anger recede slowly, leaning back in the chair. “She’s very beautiful.”

“You’ve been with tons of beautiful women before, and I’ve never seen you look at them the way you look at her.”

“And that would be?”

“Like you want to devour her,” he continued. “Like you’re right on the cusp of falling in love with her.”

I stared at him. The right answer would be to deny it, but I didn’t owe him an explanation. Plus, I wasn’t sure that I could deny it convincingly. He was right, anyway. It was true, and that bothered me. I’d never felt this possessive over any of my previous girlfriends, even those I thought I could have fallen in love with. When things fell apart, I often moved on quickly and barely remembered their faces after three weeks.

But with Jane…I was feeling things around her, crazy things I’d never felt in my life before. And Brandon was right to be concerned. It was wrong on so many levels.

For one thing, it was inappropriate, considering our age difference. She was very mature for her age, but she was still twenty years younger than I was. That was way lower than I was usually comfortable dating. I should have stayed away from her for that alone.

But I didn’t. And now here we were.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to be together.”

Even though I’d been thinking the same thing, hearing it from Brandon had me sparing him an angry glance. “Why not?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten who you are, Luca Rossi, head of the Coppola mafia? Or the fact that the Moretti don is just waiting for an opportunity to get back at you for the death of his wife.”

I sighed, feeling a headache starting up. No, I had not forgotten about that. I could never forget it.

The woman’s death hadn’t directly been my fault. Moretti and I had both been ambushed by a sting operation set up by the FBI. We were initially supposed to have a simple meeting to arrange an exchange of prisoners of sorts. Some of our men had been caught on Moretti’s property, and in retaliation, we’d taken some of theirs as hostages. We were supposed to complete the handoff at the docks, but the Morettis and our men started getting into it. Bullets were fired, the FBI showed up, and the real gunfire began. Out of nowhere, Moretti’s wife ran out of the car to protect her husband. I was too busy trying to save my ass to see what exactly happened, but I heard him screaming for her, a heart-wrenching wail that told me all I needed to know.

It was technically police fire that had taken her down. But he still blamed us for it. And I knew he was waiting for an opportunity to get back at us, to take my family the same way we’d taken his.

“I don’t want Jane getting involved in that,” Brandon continued. “And you don’t either. She’s a sweet girl who has already been through a lot. And she has all those kids she has to take care of.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked, trying to keep the jealousy out of my tone. I didn’t know they’d been close enough for her to tell him such personal details.

“Lorenzo told me a few things about her. He really loved her, you know.” Brandon gave me a look like that should mean something, but I didn’t give a damn who my brother wanted or what he liked. He’d forfeited the right to ask for any loyalty from me the minute he betrayed me. He could drop dead for all I cared…after he served his purpose, that is.

I simply needed him back to fulfill my plan. That was it.

But Brandon was right about the other part of his speech. Jane was innocent, and she was also a woman who had a lot to lose. I couldn’t get her involved in my bullshit. That wouldn’t be fair to her.

“Fine.” As reasonable as I wanted to be about this, the answer came out snarled and angry. “I’ll stay away from her. Happy?”

Brandon shook his head, but he was wise enough not to say anything further. He simply slipped out of my office.

Staying awayfrom Jane was a lot harder than I thought.

She was constantly coming into my office to ask for advice or to talk about whatever new idea she had that would attract more “A-list clients,” as she called them. To prevent her from coming in so much, I’d basically given her a blank check to use for all her needs, but more often than not, she still came in to ask before she ordered anything.

“You know, you don’t have to keep doing that,” I told her once, and she blinked up at me.

“Doing what?”

“Asking,” I said. I pointed to the black card she was holding. “That card has no limit on it. Just keep going.”

Her eyes widened. “Isn’t that a dangerous amount of trust to put into someone you just hired?”

“Are you going to rob me blind?”

She shook her head.

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