Chapter 39
ALEX
“Hello, stranger, how’re you doing?”
I stiffen when I hear my younger brother’s voice. With fashion week just around the corner, I keep an open-door policy, only closing it when I’m in meetings.
“Enzo, when did you get in? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” I can hear the joy in Brooke’s voice and sense her moving.
“A couple of hours ago. Stopped off to get showered and changed, but then came straight in. No rest for the wicked.”
They stand close together, chatting like old friends, Brooke smiles up at him, her eyes warm and welcoming, as she asks after Avril and about London…
“What about you?” Enzo asks.
I pause. That’s something I’d like to know.
She’s been leaving at six every Tuesday and Thursday since we returned in the New Year.
I’ve wanted to ask her about it, but I know I have no right to, and no desire to hear that she has a new boyfriend.
It’s after hours, and she already works more than enough overtime.
Then there was that call a couple of nights ago…
“Oh, you know, this and that. Nothing exciting. Gabbi called. She said she’s coming home for Easter.”
She’s still talking to my sister? How do I not know this?
A burning sensation starts low in my chest.
“I wasn’t expecting you until later?” I say, crossing my arms as I move to join them.
He steps towards me, and I exhale softly.
What’s wrong with me? Since when did I become a possessive Neanderthal?
“Alex,” he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I slept on the flight, so decided as I’m here, I may as well get started.”
He turns to shoot Brooke another wide grin, which she returns.
I inhale through my nose.
This is my brother.
“Can I get you both something to drink?” Brooke asks.
“I’d say a scotch on the rocks, but as it’s office hours, a strong coffee would be great.”
She looks at me. “Alex?”
“My usual, thanks, Brooke.”
We both watch as she disappears towards the kitchen. My brother turns, one eyebrow raised.
“Thanks, Brooke,” he mimics.
“What’s wrong with showing some manners? She’s British after all.”
He holds up his hands in surrender and lets it drop, although I can read on his face what he’s thinking.
He walks up to me.
“It’s good to see you,” he says, pulling me in for a hug, sniffing me at the same time.
“What the hell?” I say, pulling away.
“Is that the green-eyed monster I smell on you?” he asks, turning me and all but shoving me back into my office.
“What are you talking about?”
“You. Since when did you become all growly and possessive?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the look on your face when you saw me talking to Brooke. You looked like you’d swallowed a wasp.”
Brooke takes that moment to reappear with our coffee and two slices of cake. She places them on my desk.
“Will there be anything else?”
“No, that’s all,” I say, dismissing her.
“Cake?” Enzo asks.
“I’ve taken up baking,” Brooke says, colour flooding her cheeks. “This is coffee cake. Let me know what you think.”
“It looks delicious. Thanks, Brooke,” Enzo says, mimicking me.
I shoot him a warning glance, but his grin only widens.
“You’re welcome,” she says. “Call if you need anything else.”
She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.
My brother turns and fixes me with his gaze for a solid minute.
“Has something happened between you two?”
Fuck, he’s always been intuitive, but this is a whole new level.
“What the hell? That’s quite a leap,” I say.
He taps his forefinger against his lip. “Nope,” he says. “I don’t think it is.”
He leans against the arm of the chair and rests his chin on his hand, studying me.
“You’re freaking me out,” I tell him. “Stop it.”
“You look different,” he says. “You’re different with her. I can see that a mile off. So, I’ll ask you again. What gives?”
I harrumph.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I’m just concerned we’ve been working long hours, and she’s been very tired lately.”
“She’s twenty-four, Alex,” he says, laughing. “She’s probably been burning the candle at both ends, doing what we all did at that age. Partying, socialising… sex.”
I growl even though I know the last word was said purely for effect. Enzo is baiting me. The thought of Brooke out on the town, being hit on by other men, taking them home after the kiss we shared, sets my stomach churning.
“I don’t think…” I say.
“Don’t think, or don’t want it to be true?”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Just saying,” he adds. “She’s beautiful. If you have a thing for her, then I get it.”
I pick up the stress ball Gabbi gave me for Christmas and lob it at Enzo’s head. He bats it away with a laugh.
“I’m sensing a little tension,” he says, laughing.
I growl before I can stop myself.
“I thought you were here early to discuss business,” I grumble, deciding we need to change the subject.
He looks at me but decides to drop it.
“Shall we call Brooke in? We need to discuss itineraries and ongoing logistics for the next few weeks.”
I buzz her desk, and she enters with her tablet.
“Enzo wants to go over the itineraries and logistics for the various fashion weeks.”
She pulls up a chair.
He turns to face her. “I’m taking it you’ll be around to meet and greet the press corps for Fashion Week?”
Her hand freezes, the colour draining from her cheeks.
She glances up, her eyes wide.
“What? Me?” she croaks.
“Callie always used to do it,” I say with a shrug. “It’s simply a case of meeting them as they arrive, showing them to their respective seats, and keeping them abreast of the schedule until the show starts.”
“Why me? Surely there’s someone else better equipped?” Her eyes dart between us, and I sense her rising panic. “What I mean is…”
I incline my head. “Who better than the individual who’s spent the past few months coordinating all the various teams?”
Enzo and I both stare at her. Brooke squirms in her seat.
“It’s just…” She stumbles, her eyes widening as she struggles to find an excuse. “I’ve had no training. What if I say the wrong thing? It’s one thing to organise, it’s another thing to be public-facing. I don’t feel confident…”
My brother shoots her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t stress. If you’d rather not, I’m sure we can find someone else.”
Her shoulders visibly sag.
What the hell?
I frown. Brooke is one of the friendliest, most outgoing people I’ve ever met.
I’ve watched her schmooze directors and clients alike.
She has them eating out of the palm of her hand, but suddenly, the idea of meeting the press has her spinning out of control?
I would have assumed she would have jumped at the chance. Something feels off.
“If you can find someone else, I’d prefer that,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor. I watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, as if she’s in the throes of a panic attack.
“I’ll speak to Sue,” I say.
Enzo’s eyes dart between us, and I know what he must be thinking. I’ve never backed down. If I give someone a task, I expect them to pull their weight. I’m as shocked as anyone.
“I can message Sue,” she says, her pen now moving against the tablet, taking notes.
“Don’t worry, the press here aren’t as bad as the paparazzi that follow Alex and me around. We can’t even date without a thousand questions being thrown at us. This lot are kittens in comparison.”
Brooke’s colour drains further.
“I don’t think you’re helping,” I tell my brother.
“Brooke, why don’t you pop down and see Sue? Discuss it with her.”
She jumps up as if her chair’s on fire.
“I’ll get on it right away,” she says, all but sprinting for the door.
When she’s gone, Enzo turns to me.
“Okay, that was strange.”
“You’re telling me,” I say. “That’s not the only thing. Have you ever heard Sophia mention Brooke’s mother, the mysterious friend whose daughter has just turned up out of nowhere and has her bending over backwards to accommodate her?”
“Have you spoken to Mother?” Enzo asks.
I quirk a brow and shake my head.
“Something is off. I’m not always the most intuitive when it comes to women, but whenever she talks about herself, she freezes.”
I glance up as he laughs.
“Oh, brother, you clearly have it bad.”
I frown.
“You’re looking for excuses not to like her,” he says, shooting me a smug grin. “How’s that going for you?”
“It’s not,” I say, running a hand down my face. “You’re no fucking use,” I grumble.
“I’m just stating the facts. You know, it’s okay to like her. There doesn’t have to be something sinister going on in the background just because she knows our mother.”
“How many more times? Nothing is going on between Brooke and me,” I say.
“The gentleman, in your case, doth protest too much, methinks,” he says with an enormous grin.
“You’re fucking quoting Shakespeare at me.”
“Hamlet, to be precise, but yes.”
I roll my eyes and groan. After the fashion weeks are over, maybe I’ll speak to Mother, see what’s going on with my PA.