Page 46 of Secrets of the Brother
Home.
I didn’t have a home.
My childhood home was a viper’s nest now. My New York home was gone. I couldn’t return to school. I didn’t have enough of my own money to afford the fees. Fuck. My life was a complete freaking mess, and that was before I factored in the insanity of my attraction to Enzo.
Holy hell. Enzo.
The sex had been unbelievablyintense.
In the past when I imagined my first time, there was always candlelight, romance, love, and gentleness. What we just did had none of that. It was raw, primal lust. I might be inexperienced, but I was pretty sure that was what they called hate fucking.
And the worst part?
It had been amazing. Every fucked-up, brutally rough moment of it.
My world was a bubble of affectation my parents created, a warped illusion. Everything was thinly gilded in cheap gold to keep up the appearance of wealth and affluence. My whole life was about knowing therightpeople, vacationing in therightplaces, wearing therightclothes, saying and doing therightthing.
Be a good girl, Bianca. Stay silent and step aside so your sister can marry Enzo Cavalieri for the good of the family. Don’t fault your sister. It is not her fault you were not beautiful or charming enough to snare him for yourself.
In that fake world, sex would have been all roses, gentle kisses, and candlelight.
In the real world, sex with Enzo had been frenzied, wild, and untamed.
For the first time in my life, I had done something wrong, something twisted, something seriously fucked up.
And it felt good.
It felt good to be bad…in the moment.
But cold reality was creeping back in.
I looked down at the now tepid bathwater, the fizzled remnants of what once were big, fluffy clouds of shimmering bubbles now floating listlessly on top.
With a resigned sigh, I pulled out the drain stopper and got out of the tub.
CHAPTER12
MILANA
“Milana? Milana Carbone? Is that you?”
I turned to see Bianca Moretti waving to me from across the small cafe as she approached.
She was wearing a gorgeous, flared-sleeve cream blouse with fabulous brass button details and a brown suede skirt, a beautiful Ralph Lauren Leonarda Wrap camel coat tossed casually over her shoulders.
I inwardly sighed. Compared to the garish vulgarity of Renata, Bianca had such an understated, classic style. She was so elegant and chic.
Even when she stormed down the church aisle to embarrassingly slap Enzo at the funeral.
As much as I felt for my future brother-in-law—I couldn’t argue with the girl’s style and panache.
Damn! The dress. The heels. That fabulous Saint Fortblack pearl wheel hat and gauze veil.
If her intent was to return to town and send a message that she wasoverher ex-boyfriend and the humiliation of him marrying her sister, then that was definitely the way to do it.
Why couldn’t Enzo have married her instead?
She would have made a fun sister-in-law.
