Page 77 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

I exhale slowly, torn. “Alessio, it’s not about pulling weight. It’s about optics. Risk. You working at a Bratva-owned club isn’t exactly squeaky-clean PR.”

“I know. I know. But instead of going to war with them, I'm making peace. Isn't that great for optics?"

He touches my arm gently. “I need this. Not for the cameras. For me.”

There’s sincerity in his eyes. No smirk. No arrogance. Just this raw kind of hope that makes my chest ache.

I roll my eyes, mostly to cover the fact that I’m dangerously close to saying yes without a fight. “You screw this up, and I swear I will go full PR-executive-on-a-rampage on your ass.”

His grin returns, slow and wicked. “So… that’s a yes?”

“More like a provisional approval.” I arch a brow.

He leans in, eyes bright. “I’ll take it.”

And damn it, a part of me, maybe the foolish, hopeful part, wants him to succeed.

Wants this to work.

Wants him to be real.

The next morning, I slip into my robe, hair still damp from a quick shower, and settle in with my laptop while Alessio makes coffee.

He’s shirtless, again, moving around the kitchen with the kind of unbothered ease that makes my throat tighten.

I open my inbox, expecting follow-ups from Denver or maybe some investor feedback.

What I don’t expect is an email flagged CONFIDENTIAL.

No sender. No subject. Just one line in plain text.

You can’t fix someone like him.

The words feel like a punch to the gut.

I sit there frozen, rereading the sentence as if it’ll morph into something else if I stare long enough.

But it doesn’t. It just sits there. Sharp. Icy. True?

My fingers hover over the trackpad, heart thudding in my chest.

Across the room, Alessio glances up from the stove and flashes me a sleepy smile, like nothing’s changed. Like the nights I spend in his arms don’t shift something deep in my chest, settling some ache I didn’t know I’d been carrying, while stirring a new kind of fear. Because calm has never come without a catch.

And the fact that I could feel this safe with someone like him? That might be the most dangerous thing of all.

He sets a mug in front of me, kisses the top of my head.

I force a smile, wrap my hands around the cup, and try to breathe.

But my pulse won’t settle.

And that message won’t leave me alone.

Because maybe the worst part is… a small, terrified part of me agrees.

18

ALESSIO

---