Page 10 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

No room for argument. Just a verdict passed down like law.

And I know he’s right. That’s what makes it worse.

I nod once, the motion stiff and mechanical. “Fine.”

But I swear, if Alessio so much aswinksat me again, I'll do something I'm going to regret.

Alessio leans back in his chair like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a matter of life and death. “So, what? You want me to go into hiding? Camp out in some safe house until this blows over?”

Enzo doesn’t flinch. “No. You’re not going anywhere.”

My eyes narrow.

That tone from Enzo? That’s the setup for something brutal.

Valentino folds his hands in front of him, his voice cool. “You’ve been cut off remember. You can't afford any more luxuries.”

The room tilts.

Alessio laughs, like it’s some elaborate joke. “Wait. You’re serious?”

Valentino doesn’t crack a smile. “We’re not risking the merger to protect your lifestyle.”

“But—”

Enzo shoots him a glare sharp enough to draw blood.

My father shuffles a couple of papers. “We’ve already arranged temporary housing. Company-owned. Secure. Discreet.”

He says the next part like it’s a casual suggestion.

“You’ll be staying with Sophie.”

I swear my soul tries to exit my body.

“What in the actual fuck? Absolutely not.”

My father doesn’t blink. "It’s the best solution. It keeps Alessio protected, maintains proximity for damage control, and most importantly, it ensures that the media don’t catch wind of anything suspicious."

“The best solution? You’re handing me a live grenade and telling me to cradle it like a baby. Why can't he stay with Denver?"

Denver clears his throat. “My place isn’t an option. Not with Clara pregnant."

Valentino’s already shaking his head. “Not a chance.”

I look back at my father, my voice deadly calm but barely leashed. “You expect me to share a living space withhim?

You really think this is the best we can do? That I should just play babysitter while he lounges around and turns my apartment into a brothel?"

I turn to Alessio, "What do you actually do all day aside from taking up useful space?"

Alessio clutches his chest. "Ouch."

My father exhales, measured. "You're not a babysitter. You're a crisis manager. And this crisis is yours to contain. Besides

you’re both adults. I trust you'll keep everything professional.”

Professional? I’ve seen that man naked.

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