Page 27 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

My skepticism must be all over my face because he leans in slightly, elbows braced on the counter, expression unexpectedly earnest.

“I mean it. He’s sharp. Loyal. Keeps his word.”

“You trust a Bratva boss?” My brow arches higher.

“I do. He’s... different.”

There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Back when I was a little too deep into poker nights and parties I shouldn’t have been at, there was this situation. Some idiot dealer laced the game. Cops got tipped off. Nikolai took the fall. Lied straight to the cops, said it was his setup. Got me out of there clean.”

I blink.

It’s the most honest thing I’ve heard from Alessio since this whole mess started.

"And there was this one time he took a grenade for me."

"A grenade? What are you talking about?"

"An unattractive member of the opposite sex. Let's just say I came out unscathed, but I can't say the same for him." He chuckles.

"Oh god." I roll my eyes.

“He reminds me of your brother, Denver,” Alessio continues, a softer edge creeping into his voice.

“Back in high school, Denver always had my back, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“You sound like you’d trust Nikolai with your life.”

“I would. More than I trust most people with my money.”

That last line lands differently. Heavy. Unspoken meaning layered beneath it.

For a split second, I see something real in him, beneath the smirk, under the swagger. And I hate how it tugs at something in me. Something that wants to believe he’s not all bad.

We fall into a rhythm that feels too familiar. Combative, sharp, laced with tension.

“You’ve been dragging people into chaos since high school.” I don’t look up from the tablet, pretending to review the gala guest list.

Alessio lets out a low chuckle. “You weren’t complaining about my chaos back then.”

My head snaps up.

Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?” His voice is a little lower now, eyes locked on mine. He takes a slow step closer, a lion sizing up its prey. “Because I remember it differently.”

The air between us tightens, stretches.

His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second, and I swear my heart stumbles.

That night ignites in my memory like gasoline meeting a match. Sudden, uncontrollable, searing through every coherent thought.

The heat of his body pressed against mine. The grip of his hands, firm, possessive, unforgettable. The hunger in his eyes that burned through every layer of restraint I had.

And the way I wanted him, desperately, stupidly.

My skin still remembers the phantom touch of his mouth on my neck, the scrape of his stubble across my collarbone, the wetness between my legs.

A night branded into memory, where I stopped thinking and let myself feel, even though I knew better.

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