“Not tell you what, Mother?” The irritation comes out much more intensely than I intended, but I’m irritated all the same.
Thrusting the newspaper into my hands, she taps the photo on the front page with excitement. “That you and August are a couple! Oh, honey, you two are stunning together!”
My eyes widen with horror as I see a photo of meand August from last night plastered on the front page of the paper with the headlineWho’s Falling for Who? Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor, August St. Jean, spotted out with Vinnie Paladino!
Below it is a half-page photo of me in August’s arms as he dips me low. One of his hands cradles my lower back while the other holds my hand as he smiles down at me—a position far too intimate for what I was feeling in the moment. But the worst part of the photo is that it captured the brief momentIsmiled before I truly realized what was going on.
Guilt claws in my stomach, absolutely hating how this photo portrays us. No part of me enjoyed that moment, I only smiled because who doesn’t instinctually smile when they’re being moved in a fun way? What woman doesn’t like to be dipped?
“Mom, we’re not?—”
“That serious yet,” Joseph cuts in. “But August won’t shut up about your time at the gala last night, sis. He’sverysmitten.” The smirk he’s giving me sends a chill down my spine, but my mother doesn’t seem to notice. She just visibly melts from the news, looping her arm through my brother’s as she looks up at him adoringly.
“And when are you going to meet someone, sweetheart?” she asks, leading him into the dining room.
My feet are rooted to the floor, watching them as they go, completely unaware that I’m forcing myself not to lose all control. I want to scream, cry, and hurl my anger at them. Demand answers from my brother aboutwhy he hates me so much. Curling my hands into fists at my side, I close my eyes.
“Vinnie,” Luciano’s smooth voice floats through the foyer.
For a moment I consider ignoring him, finding the woman I handed my clutch to, and leaving. It’s tempting, but I know the utter chaos it will cause if I do.
Opening my eyes, I see him leaning against the archway of the sitting room.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his brows knitted with concern.
Luciano and I have never been very close due to our age difference, but he’s always been protective over me. He’s always had my back more than myotherolder brother has, and although I know he won’t openly speak to me about family affairs I have no part of, I trust he won’t lie to me, and because of this, I make a snap decision.
“Can we talk?” I ask. I hold my breath, even though I know he won’t tell me no.
He nods his head, then gestures at the sitting room, walking back into it.
The soles of my ballet flats squeak against the freshly polished marble floors as I follow him.
The room is chilly from the open window. Its sheer curtains billow from the breeze.
My brother takes a seat on the couch, picking up a book that was left behind on a cushion. Placing a bookmark as close to the spine as possible, he shuts it andsets it down beside him. I sit next to him in the warm sunlight that envelopes part of the couch.
“What’s going on?” Luciano asks simply, his tone cold, but not mean. Just…unamused, perhaps even a little bored.
I recognize this side of him as his lawyer persona. He’s assessing me—gathering all the information he needs for this conversation.
It strikes me as odd, since he has no idea what this conversation will be about, but then again I learned not to underestimate my brother years ago. He’s highly intelligent, and can easily read people. It’s one of the reasons why he’s such a successful divorce attorney.
“I need you to explain to me why Joseph hates me so much.”
Luciano’s mask slips as he winces.
So it’s true, then. Josephactuallyhates me.
“Vinnie,” Luciano starts, but I hold up my palm to stop him.
“Stop. Don’t you dare try to sit here and sugarcoat things for me, Luce. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
He sighs deeply, rotating his body so his arm can rest along the back of the couch. His eyes catch on something outside, and he stares at it. I can see the wheels in his head turning, carefully selecting what he wants to tell me.
“Joseph,” he says quietly, then he stops again, his lips pursing in thought. “Joseph has always had a deeply rooted fear that Father will overlook him when it comes time to carry on his legacy. He knows I don’t want it.Not with my own career thriving. Truthfully, the last thing I’d ever want to do is take over Father’s business—coffee, or otherwise. But you’ve always been Father’s favorite. Daddy’s little girl, and all that.”
Irritation spikes through my blood. “I don’t want his business. Like you, I have my own.”