"What's the emergency?" Luca slouched in the chair opposite mine with a yawn. "I just got off the plane. Give a guy time to sleep."

"According to the society pages, you haven't slept for the past month.”

Instead, he'd been partying it up around the world. Mykonos one day, Ibiza the next. His last stop had been Monaco, where he'd lost fifty grand at the poker table.

"Exactly." He yawned again. "That's why I need sleep."

My jaw hardened.

Luca was five years younger than me, yet he acted like he was twenty-one instead of thirty-one.

If he weren't my brother, I would've cut him off without hesitation, especially given the shit-show I found myself in thanks to him.

"Aren't you curious why I called you here?"

Luca shrugged, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath my calm. "You missed your baby bro?"

"Not quite." I retrieved a manila folder from my drawer and placed it on the desk between us. "Open it.”

He gave me a strange look but obliged. I kept my gaze trained on his face as he flipped through the photos, slowly at first, then faster as the panic set in.

Grim satisfaction passed through me when he finally looked up, his face several shades paler than when he'd entered.

At least he understood what was at stake.

"Do you know who the person in those photos are?" I asked.

Luca's throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

"{{user}} Romano." I tapped the photo on the top of the pile.

"Niece/nephew of mafia don Gabriele Romano. Twenty-seven years old, and the apple of their uncle's eye.” As well as the person that I have been trying to get with. “The name should ring a bell, considering you were fucking them before you left for Europe, as evidenced by these photos."

My brother's hands fisted. "How did you-"

"That's not the right question, Luca. The right question is What kind of casket you'd like at your funeral because that's what I'l have to fucking plan if Romano ever finds out about this!" The storm broke halfway through my sentence, fuelled by weeks' worth of pent-up fury and frustration.