Page 30 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

“Have they?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.” Dante ran a hand through his slightly too-long hair. He really should have gotten a trim before leaving for the coast. “Will you forgive me and get off my back if I promise not to fall off the grid again?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you tell me about your roommate.”

“Housemate. We’re sharing a house, not a room. And there’s not much to tell.” Unless he countedLa Bohème. And the yoga. And the pig.

And that kiss.

Dante touched a finger to his nose to make sure it wasn’t growing.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Luca huffed. He could be such a prima donna when he didn’t get his way. Like a spoiled baby. He’d been teasing his brother earlier, but it was possible there was something to this birth order nonsense after all. “Maybe I’ll make a trip to Positano to see for myself.”

Dante swung his feet off his desk and sat up. So much for casual conversation. Every one of his nerve endings was on high alert now. The last thing he needed was his twin showing up at Bella Vista. Not because he was jealous, he told himself. Although he couldn’t quite pinpoint another reason why he was so opposed to a visit from his brother. “You’re needed in Rome. Who would run the restaurant?”

“We’re managing fine without you.”

“I’m a number cruncher. Not the genius in the kitchen. I can do my job virtually anywhere as long as I have a computer and access to the internet.”

“But you haven’t been, have you?” Luca retorted. “You’ve been playing house with Nonna’s tenant.”

“You know why I’m here.” Dante bristled, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a tense frown. “And it’s not to play house.”

“Of course,” Luca said, his tone softening. “Nicole. But that doesn’t mean—”

“Yes,” Dante ground out through clenched teeth. “It does.”

It should. If he could stop himself from obsessing over a woman he’d known for all of two weeks. Or, God forbid, kissing her again.

“It’s been almost a year,” Luca said, a little less gently. “Twelve months.”

“I know how long a year is,” Dante snapped. “And you’re starting to sound like our grandmother.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. The woman is a force of nature, and she has a point.”

“Which I’m sure you’re going to elaborate on.”

“You don’t think you deserve love because you hold yourself responsible—wrongly, I might add—for Nicole’s death.”

True. Except for the wrongly part.

“And you’re afraid to fall in love again because it might mean heartbreak, and you don’t think you could survive that a second time.”

Also true.

“But there’s no harm in having a little fun with a warm, willing woman, especially when she’s already living with you. A higher power dropped her in your lap. It’s destiny,campione. You’re tempting fate if you look the other way.”

That was where Luca couldn’t be more wrong. Dante could think of plenty of things that could go horribly wrong if he let himself get in any deeper with Zoe.

“I don’t believe in fate.” Not anymore. He picked up a pencil from his desk and twirled it between his fingers, needing something to occupy himself other than his nosy, irritating brother.

“Well, I do,” Luca said. “Maybe I’m the one she’s meant for. That trip to Positano is sounding better and better by the minute.”