28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Still My Brother
Luca
“You’re fucking my sister?”
Bran stands at the end of the corridor with his arms crossed over his chest.
Best friend extraordinaire.
Older brother of the woman I love.
Apparently, shameless eavesdropper.
Anger radiates from him.
His nostrils flare. His jaw is clenched tightly enough to crack a tooth, and the look in his eyes suggests he has already imagined several ways to dispose of my body without inconveniencing the party downstairs.
I’m mildly surprised he hasn’t punched me yet.
Simone immediately steps between us.
“Move,” Bran says.
“No.”
“I only want to talk to him.”
“You’re using your murder face.”
“I don’t have a murder face.”
“You absolutely do.”
Bran looks at me over her shoulder.
“You slept with my sister.”
The volume of his voice makes me glance toward Francis’s closed study door.
“Could we avoid announcing that to the entire estate?”
“You didn’t seem concerned about discretion when you—”
“Bran,” Simone snaps.
He throws both hands into the air.
“What am I supposed to say? Congratulations?”
“That would be a lovely beginning.”
His expression becomes incredulous.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“I’m being unreasonable?”
Simone plants both hands on her hips.
“You listened outside Dad’s door, heard me tell him I love Luca, and somehow decided the important issue is whether we’ve had sex.”
“I’m your brother.”
“That does not make my sex life your jurisdiction.”
I almost smile.
This is not the time.
Bran’s glare moves toward me.
I stop almost smiling.
His anger is justified.
For as long as I can remember, Simone has been off-limits.
Bran first made that clear on the night of her eighteenth birthday.
I stood in the kitchen during the party, leaning against the counter and watching Simone dance with her friends.
I didn’t realize how long I had been staring until Bran appeared beside me and shoved a plastic cup into my hand.
The liquid inside looked capable of removing paint.
“Why are you staring at my sister like that?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
“It’s her first college party. I’m making sure she’s all right.”
“Right.”
Bran followed my gaze.
“For a second, it looked like you wanted to kiss her.”
I laughed.
The sound felt wrong even then.
“Yeah, right.”
He laughed too.
A few moments later, he leaned closer.
“You know she’s off-limits, though.”
I looked at him.
“You can’t ever date her.”
“She’s like a sister to me.”
I told the lie easily.
Then Simone kissed me in my car less than an hour later.
And I broke her heart.
Now she stands between Bran and me as if she intends to defend my life with her bare hands.
I touch the back of her arm.
“It’s okay.”
She turns.
“No, it isn’t.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“He needs to stop behaving like a caveman.”
“I’m standing right here,” Bran says.
“We know.”
Simone’s eyes search mine.
“You don’t have to let him hit you.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Bran scoffs.
“I’m fairly certain he can defend himself.”
“Good. Then you don’t need to test the theory.”
She catches the front of my shirt and pulls me toward her.
The kiss she presses to my mouth is brief.
Deliberate.
Entirely for Bran’s benefit.
He releases a sound of disgust.
“Was that necessary?”
“Yes.”
Simone looks at me.
“You’d better come back with the same number of teeth.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She points one finger at Bran.
“If you touch him—”
“Go.”
“Bran.”
“We’re talking. That’s all.”
Simone narrows her eyes.
Then she looks at me again.
“I’ll be in my room.”
“I know.”
Her expression softens.
“Come find me.”
Always.
She walks away.
Bran watches until she disappears around the corner.
Then he turns to me.
The corridor becomes unnaturally quiet.
We have known each other for nearly two decades.
We’ve fought beside each other.
Drank together.
Lived in each other’s homes.
Buried my father together.
There has never been awkwardness between us.
Until now.
“Save the punch for a minute,” I say. “Francis has absorbed enough tonight without hearing us destroy the hallway.”
Bran looks toward his father’s study.
“If he has a heart attack, I’m blaming both of you.”
“That seems fair.”
He jerks his head toward the terrace doors.
“Outside.”
We move downstairs and leave the ballroom through a side entrance.
The party continues behind the glass.
Music.
Laughter.
People drinking beneath strings of gold lights without realizing Francis’s carefully designed evening has collapsed from the inside.
The terrace is mostly empty.
Bran walks to the stone railing and turns.
“I’m in love with her.”
His expression hardens.
“I gathered that from the speech.”
“I need you to hear it from me.”
“I heard you tell Dad.”
“You were eavesdropping.”
“I was waiting.”
“Beside a closed door.”
“Details.”
I step closer.
“I love Simone.”
Bran drags one hand over his face.
“You were stranded together for three days.”
“This didn’t begin on the island.”
“You expect me to believe you’ve secretly loved my sister for years?”
“Yes.”
“That’s worse.”
“I know.”
He paces several feet away before turning back.
“You rejected her.”
“Twice.”
Bran’s eyes narrow.
“She told you?”
“She enjoys preserving a complete record of my failures.”
“Good.”
“I deserved it.”
That interrupts some of his anger.
Only briefly.
“You hurt her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
Bran blinks.
“Me?”
“You told me she was off-limits.”
“We were barely adults.”
“You meant it.”
“I didn’t think I needed to clarify that ‘off-limits’ didn’t mean she could never choose anyone for herself.”
“You specifically told me I could never date her.”
“I was drunk.”
“So was I.”
Bran folds his arms.
“That explains the tattoo. Not this.”
“The first time she told me how she felt, she was eighteen. You were my best friend. Francis employed my father and had just started helping me plan my own training.”
I shake my head.
“Wanting her felt like betraying everyone.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand she was never anyone’s to give or withhold.”
Bran looks toward the ballroom.
Through the glass, Simone is nowhere in sight.
“I fought it,” I continue. “I kept my distance. I convinced myself she would move on.”
“She tried.”
“I know.”
“You hated every man she dated.”
“Yes.”
“Adrien too?”
“Especially Adrien.”
“He’s gay.”
“I know that now.”
A reluctant smile threatens Bran’s mouth.
“You spent months being jealous of a gay man.”
“I’m aware.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Enjoy it while you can.”
“Oh, I will.”
The humor fades.
Bran rests both hands on the railing.
“You should have told me.”
“I wanted to.”
“When?”
“When you were ready to listen.”
He turns.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’ve been angry with me since I resigned.”
“I wasn’t angry.”
“You behaved like a bitter ex-wife.”
“Fuck you.”
“There it is.”
“We’re best friends.”
“That’s why I expected you to understand.”
Bran’s expression changes.
“You handed Dad a resignation letter and didn’t say a word to me.”
“I needed the decision to be mine before anyone tried to change it.”
“I wouldn’t have changed it.”
“You’re currently angry I made it without consulting you.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
Bran looks toward the dark lawn.
For once, he doesn’t answer immediately.
“When your father died, you practically moved into our house.”
His voice is quieter.
“You were there every day. Then we trained together. Worked together.”
He rubs one thumb along the stone railing.
“I assumed we’d keep doing that.”
The truth beneath his anger finally appears.
“You thought I was leaving you.”
“You walked away from the company.”
“Not from you.”
“It didn’t feel different.”
I move beside him.
“You’re my brother.”
He looks at me.
“That doesn’t depend on Francis signing my paycheck.”
“You could have said that.”
“I’m saying it now.”
Bran exhales.
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
“I don’t want to work for your father anymore.”
“I understand.”
“I need something that belongs to me.”
“What?”
“I’m starting my own firm.”
His eyebrows rise.
“Protection?”
“Threat assessment. Executive protection. Stalking cases. High-risk clients who need more than a man standing beside a door.”
“You’ve thought this through.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“And Dad knows?”
“No.”
Bran’s mouth curves.
“Excellent. He’ll love that.”
“I’m not asking him to.”
“Do you have financing?”
“Not yet.”
“Clients?”
“Not yet.”
“An office?”
“No.”
“A name?”
I hesitate.
“Simone suggested Dangerously Protective.”
Bran stares.
“That’s terrible.”
“I told her that.”
“It sounds like one of her romance novels.”
“She doesn’t write romance novels.”
“She should. She lives dramatically enough.”
“I’ll choose something else.”
“Keep it.”
I look at him.
“It’s memorable.”
“That’s what she said.”
Bran shakes his head.
“God help you.”
“She’s worth it.”
His expression sobers again.
“And the pilot?”
“I’ll continue cooperating with the investigation through my notice period.”
“Dad’s team found another shell company connected to the radio transmission.”
“Where?”
“Cayman registration. Funds routed through three political action groups before reaching the pilot.”
“Someone planned this carefully.”
“Very.”
“Any names?”
“Not yet.”
I look toward the tree line beyond the estate.
The grounds are heavily secured.
That doesn’t mean Simone is safe.
“I want the records.”
“You resigned.”
“I’m still finishing the investigation.”
Bran studies me.
Then he nods.
“I’ll send everything tonight.”
The decision feels familiar.
The two of us facing a threat together.
That part doesn’t have to end.
Bran leans back against the railing.
“Now we return to the other disaster.”
“Simone.”
“My sister.”
“The woman I love.”
His face twists.
“I’m going to need time to hear you say that without feeling ill.”
“You’ll adapt.”
“I might not.”
“That sounds difficult for you.”
Bran glares.
“I should hit you.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
He looks down at his hands, curling them briefly into fists.
Then he releases them.
“Cassie hates when I fight.”
“She also knows I’d win.”
“Unfortunately.”
A dry laugh escapes him.
“Cassie knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you and Simone were in love.”
I raise one eyebrow.
“For how long?”
“Months.”
Bran imitates Cassie’s voice badly.