Page 11 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

Alessio smirks, apparently enjoying every second of my spiraling horror. “This is starting to sound fun.”

I cross my arms and exhale hard enough to fog glass. “Fine. But if I wake up to stripper glitter on the kitchen counter or find out you’ve tried to install a pole in the living room, you are out the door faster than you can blink, and you can find someone else to save your sorry ass.”

Alessio’s brow arches, amused. “No promises.”

My eyes narrow to slits. “Bring one woman to that apartment... Stapler. Your dick. Wall.”

His grin widens. “Kinky. You always this welcoming to houseguests?”

“You are not a guest, you are a chore, a nuisance.”

He leans back like he’s settling into a throne, flashing that smirk that makes me want to throw a stapler at his face. “Can’t wait,roommate.”

The others shift, moving on to next steps like this is all perfectly normal.

But I stay frozen in place, locked in a silent standoff across the table.

For one flickering second, the smirk fades. His expression cracks just enough to show a glimpse of something else, something tired. Hollow. Real.

And damn it, I wish I hadn’t seen it.

4

ALESSIO

The duffel bag stares at me, silent and smug, like it knows I’ve hit rock bottom.

I stare back, arms crossed, jaw tight.

It’s the first time in years I’ve had to pack my own damn clothes. No assistants, no concierge, no crisp shirts folded by someone paid to know the difference between Versace and Gucci. Just me, two hands, and a pile of wrinkled regret.

Six months, Alessio. Stay out of trouble or come home.

My father’s words echo in my head like a threat disguised as mercy.

And now, I’m being shipped off to some corporate-owned safe house like a scolded outcast on house arrest. And babysat—babysat—by the one woman I haven’t been able to forget. The same woman I once had pressed against a hotel wall with her hands tangled in my hair as I whispered all the filthy things I wanted to do to her.

Sophie Henderson.

Of course, it’s her.

Because rock bottom wasn’t humiliating enough on its own.

I rummage through a pile of clothes on the bed. After finding a pair of forgotten lace panties, I drop a T-shirt, probably clean, into the duffel. Grabbing my phone, I prop it up on a stack of takeout containers on my dresser.

Luciana answers on the third ring, eyes immediately going wide as she takes in the disaster zone that is my room.

“Jesus, Les. Is this what exile looks like?” She brushes her dark curls over her shoulder with a dramatic shake of her head.

“Exile has room service.” I flop onto the edge of the bed. “Dad's got me grounded. You know, fewer amenities and a lot more judgment.”

She smirks. “Did you at least pack some clean underwear this time?”

“I figured I’d go commando. Keep life spicy.”

Luciana rolls her eyes, but there’s affection behind it. “So… is it true? You really hooked up with the Bratva boss’s daughter and got yourself cut off from the family fortune?”

I stretch back on my elbows, staring at the ceiling. “Yes and yes. Val filled you in, didn't he? No penthouse. No black card. I’m an ordinary peasant now.”

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