Chapter 27 Nico
Nico
Instead I spent the next two hours in my office watching my phone explode while Bree fielded calls at her desk with the kind of ruthless efficiency that makes me want to bend her over it.
Not helpful, given the circumstances.
Focus.
At 9:47, my intercom buzzes.
“Mr. Rossi.” Bree’s voice is carefully neutral. “Your brother is here.”
I’m out of my chair before she finishes the sentence.
Dom is standing at reception, looking completely out of place among the sleek modern furniture and the nervous staff pretending not to stare.
He’s wearing an Armani suit, and he’s got that expression I remember from childhood. The one that says he’s about to do something annoyingly noble.
“You didn’t think I’d let you face this alone, did you?” He pulls me into a hug before I can protest.
I let him. Just for a second.
“Your statement was enough,” I tell him as we walk toward my office. “I can handle this.”
“Clearly.” His tone is dry. “That’s why you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“Three days, actually,” I counter.
Dom’s eyes flick to Bree as we pass her desk. She’s back to her laptop, pretending not to watch us. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression tells me he’s cataloging information.
Great.
I hit the panel to turn the smart glass opaque once we’re inside. I don’t need an audience for this conversation.
Dom settles into one of the chairs across from my desk. “You look like hell, little brother.”
I force a smile. “Thanks. Very helpful.”
“I mean it.” He leans forward, elbows on knees. “When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t coffee?”
“Thessaly left food last night.” I don’t mention that Bree was the one who made me eat it. Don’t mention that she stayed at my place, that I watched her sleep for an hour before Dom’s call because I was terrified she’d disappear if I closed my eyes.
Dom studies me for a long moment. “That statement took guts. Dad would be proud.”
“Dad doesn’t even know about it,” I reply.
“He will soon.” Dom’s voice is careful. “Mom saw the news this morning. They’re on their way.”
What?
My parents never watch the news.
Of all the days...
Fuck.
The word must show on my face because Dom holds up a hand. “I tried to talk them out of it. Mom insisted.”
“Of course she did.” I drag a hand over my jaw, feel the raised tissue of my scars. “I never told them. About what I did to you. To Tatiana.”
He smiles patiently. “I know.”
“You could have,” I press. “You had every right to.”
Dom shakes his head. “It wasn’t my story to tell. You were in pain, Nico. You lashed out. It was wrong, but I forgave you years ago.” He pauses. “Now you need to forgive yourself.”
I turn away from him, stare at the opaque glass walls. I press a button on my desk, and only the floor-to-ceiling window behind me becomes translucent. I stand up and look down. I can see Manhattan spread out below.
All those tiny lives with their own problems.
But how many of them are facing a board coup and a media circus and the possibility of losing everything they built because some vindictive blonde with a grudge decided to burn it all down?
“Gabriella played this perfectly,” I say. “She sat on that story for years. Waited until I was already bleeding, then twisted the knife.”
“She’s Martin’s sister,” Dom explains. “What did you expect?”
“I expected her to stay the fuck out of my life after I ended things with her,” I growl.
Dom is quiet for a moment. “The statement you released. Did your secretary help you write it?”
“Bree read it before I sent it. Told me it was PR suicide, but at least I’d go out with my head held high. She was right.” I turn back to face him. “She was also right about something else, too. I can’t spin my way out of the truth. I’m done hiding.”
Dom’s expression becomes knowing. And brotherly in the worst possible way.
“You’re in love with her,” he says. Not a question. “This Bree.”
Fuck.
He can see right through me.
I should probably lie. Deflect with something dismissive, the way I’ve deflected every personal question for the past decade.
But I’m so fucking tired of lying.
“Yes,” I admit.
“Does she know?” he asks.
I think about last night. About the makeup sex that felt more like a prayer than a fuck. About the way she looked at me afterward, like she was trying to decide if I was worth the risk.
“I told her I care about her,” I reply. “She said she cares about me, too, but she doesn’t know if that’s enough.”
Dom nods slowly. “And she’s staying?”
“For now,” I answer.
“Then don’t fuck it up.” He stands, crosses to the window beside me.
We’re the same height, but he’s always seemed taller somehow.
The golden child. The one who got everything right while I was busy getting everything wrong.
“You’ve spent ten years paying for one mistake.
Don’t make another by not fighting for her. ”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. Text from Callahan.
Your parents just arrived. Escorting them up now.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Mom and dad?” Dom asks.
I shake my head. “Yes.”
Dom claps a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be right here.”
The next fifteen minutes are some of the longest of my life.
My mother walks through the door first, and her face crumples the moment she sees me. She’s across the office in three steps, pulling me into her arms like I’m fifteen again and bleeding on the kitchen floor.
“Nicolò.” Her voice breaks on my name. “My boy. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I was ashamed.” The admission comes easier than I expected. Maybe honesty is a muscle after all. Maybe I’m finally learning to use it.
My father stands in the doorway, his expression harder to read. Antonio Rossi has never been a man of many words, but the ones he chooses tend to cut deep.
“What you did to your brother,” he says slowly. “That was wrong.”
I nod, my eyes wet with tears. “I know.”
“You tried to manipulate him,” my father says. “To control who he loved. That is not how we raised you.”
“I know, Dad,” I tell him, wiping at my eyes.
He crosses to me. For a moment I’m braced for something. A lecture. A slap, maybe. The disappointment I’ve been running from for a decade.
Instead, he pulls me into a rough embrace like mom did.
“But you are our son,” he says against my ear. “We do not abandon family. Even when family makes us want to strangle them.”
My mother laughs through her tears. Even Dom cracks a smile.
Something loosens in my chest. Some pressure I didn’t realize I was carrying. Like a prosthetic finally settling into place after months of adjustment.
Not perfect.
Still uncomfortable.
But functional.
The glass walls are still opaque, but I realize my parents forgot to close the door. I glance outside, and catch Bree watching. She’s at her desk, laptop forgotten, and she’s dabbing at her own eyes.
She smiles when my eyes meet hers, and for a moment the rest of the world drops away.
My company is under siege.
In four hours, Martin Hale is going to try to take away everything I’ve built.
But my family surrounds me.
And Bree is here.
Still fighting beside me.
And somehow, that’s the only thing that matters.