Page 4 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

My father, on the other hand, remains frustratingly unreadable, brows drawn slightly, mouth a thin line.

The email hangs in the air like a loaded gun.

Valentino stands up and starts to pace, breaking the silence first.

"Fuck. What is he thinking? If this is true, this merger cannot survive a scandal like this."

My father folds his hands on the table, calm as ever. "We don’t know if it’s confirmed."

Valentino's jaw tightens. "We don’t need confirmation. We need distance. Immediately. We—"

"If we get ahead of it, control the narrative before it breaks, we might be able to contain the damage. I have a few trusted media contacts." My voice is ragged because of

Valentino turns to me slowly, eyes unreadable. "Do it. We need to protect the Valentina brand. And bury this mess."

My father doesn’t look at me. He just nods at Valentino. "She’s the best at what she does. Let her handle it."

The implication is clear. If the merger implodes, it’ll all fall on us. On me.

Valentino stops pacing, his Italian leather shoes whispering against the floor as he turns with calculated precision. His jaw is tight, eyes sharp, like he’s already dissecting the damage and building a fortress around it.

“We need to get ahead of this,” he says, voice low and commanding. “If even a whisper of this leak hits the press, it’s over. Sophie you should lead on damage control ASAP and take the reins on the narrative before the vultures do.”

His gaze flicks toward me, unreadable but weighted. He’s not offering a suggestion.

He wants to control the story. And to keep Alessio safe.

Screwing around with Mikhail Orlov’s daughter comes with consequences. Dangerous ones.

My father leans forward, steepling his fingers. “Agreed.”

No hesitation. No discussion.

And just like that, I’m handed a bomb with a ticking clock. And a fuse that looks suspiciously like the man I swore I’d never deal with again.

My breath catches in my throat.

Of all the people I might have to clean up after…

My stomach twists, and my pulse skitters, a hot flush climbing up my neck. Just the thought of his name sends a jolt through me. Sharp, unwanted, electric.

I can still feel the weight of that night pressing against my skin. The heat of his breath near my ear, the press of his hand against my lower back.

One night, one mistake, and an unspoken agreement to never speak of it again.

I steady my breath, forcing down the memories that want to claw their way to the surface.

This isn’t the time. I’m a professional. I have to be.

But panic blooms fast and fierce in my chest.

Why did it have to be him?

2

ALESSIO

The scent of sex hangs in the air, part expensive perfume, part loathing.

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