Page 14 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

But not yet. Not like this.

So, I back up a step, shrugging. “You’re a real peach, Henderson.”

“And you’re a walking lawsuit.”

God, I’ve missed this.

The fire. The fight. The slow burn waiting to explode.

The silence in my room is louder than it should be.

I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the bed.

The mattress is firm. The sheets smell like detergent. The place feels sterile, temporary, like one of those upscale hotels where they pretend to be luxurious, just to distract you from how lonely you are.

I stare at the ceiling, one arm flung across my chest.

I’ve lived in penthouses with champagne on tap and an endless parade of willing distractions. But this? This is exile. A holding cell with high thread count.

And yet, something about being here makes me feel… what? Like I can breathe for the first time in years?

My fingers find the inside pocket of my jacket, and I pull out a small, folded piece of paper.

Just seeing it makes my stomach tighten.

It’s only a matter of time.

No return address. No signature. Just those six words, typed in bold, centered on the page like a threat waiting to become reality.

It was slipped under my penthouse door a few nights ago with no witnesses.

I told myself it was a prank. Some unhinged fan. But now? With the Bratva mess, the rumors, the timing…

I tuck it back into the pocket, burying it beneath the fabric like hiding it will make it go away.

It won’t.

I should tell someone. Valentino, maybe. Or Dad.

But they’d spin it into some security briefing, launch a surveillance team, turn me into a fucking liability on legs.

I already am one.

So, this would only escalate things. And they’d send me back home to Italy.

Then, there’s Sophie.

I close my eyes and exhale through my nose.

She’s the worst possible person to be around right now. Sharp-tongued, rule-obsessed, and immune to every charm I’ve ever used on a woman.

And yet… somehow, she’s the only one I wish would see the real me. Not the mess I show the world but the broken bits waiting to be put together.

She’s a complication I didn’t plan for. A distraction I'd love to explore.

But she doesn’t deserve all my baggage.

And if I’m honest with myself, if I’m not careful, she might wreck me more than whoever left that note.

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