Todos los capítulos de Rule Number One: My Brother's Best Friend : Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

"What?" Properly awake now, I sat bolt upright with horror, immediately noticing two things. One—it was almost dark outside. There was no way I'd only been asleep for half an hour. And two—I was still wearing my shirt and jeans. The shirt and jeans I'd planned to change out of when I went home at three o'clock. "Alice!""Don't look at me like that," she chided, her eyes narrowing as she thrust a mug towards me. "You looked exhausted when you came in this morning. I didn't have the heart to wake you up. You were sleeping like a baby."Baby. Oh God, had I really been dreaming about having Drew's baby?Mortified, I ignored the tea and turned on Roxy who was hovering nervously behind Alice. "But you said you'd wake me up! You said I should sleep for half an hour. A power nap, that's what you said!""Don't blame me!" Roxy directed an anguished glance at Alice as I swung my legs off the sofa to the floor, then hastily backed away when I scrambled to my feet and stumbled towards the light sw

Why?""Because," I began slowly, "Marco's worked long and hard atnot being a womenswear designer. Of course, he's probably going to have to give in and give it a whirl someday." I grinned as Marco made a growling sound under his breath. "Seeing as that's the family business, an' all.""The family business?" Roxy repeated, her brows furrowing. "Maretti?""No, Maretti is just my mother's name." Marco released a world-weary sigh then scowled again. "I'm Marco Maretti-Salvani.""Salvani..."We waited patiently, knowing it could be only seconds before the penny dropped. And when it did, Roxy uttered an ear-piercing shriek.*I must have ordered stock from Marco for over a year before I discovered the truth, I reflected, checking my lipstick in the mirror one last time before opening the bathroom door and heading back towards the stairs. Marco had persuaded me that it might be a good idea to accompany him to a few other trade shows that year and we'd been on a flight to Milan. He'd asked me

"I'm—I'm f-fine!" I coughed as the barman sprang into action, his cloth reappearing within seconds, all evidence of my misdemeanour almost immediately blotted away. "Oh G-god!"Oh God, indeed.The Regent Suite?"Just—just went the wr-wrong way," I spluttered helplessly, not sure which fact to be mortified by most—the fact that I'd almost vomited coke all over the barman or the fact that tonight, Marco would be sleeping in the very bed in which last night, I'd lost my virginity.The second fact. Hands down. Oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuck..."Are you sure?" Marco looked horrified. "What was in that coke?" He peered into the glass as though half expecting to find it laced with rusty nails. "Samantha...""Nothing—it was fine, really," I pleaded, recovering now, but still breathing hard. "I was drinking too fast, that's all. My fault. Stupid." I risked a glance at the barman. "I'mso sorry," I apologised meekly.He waved a dismissive hand but didn't meet my gaze. "Happens all the time, madam, don'

Startled, I was dimly conscious of losing my balance, of needing the hand he was still clasping. Wrenching it free, I heard an ominousthunk as my fingers collided with something cool and smooth, Marco pulling away just in time for me to watch the wine glass bounce from the pristine cream table cloth, a torrent of red wine arcing upwards before splattering spectacularly all over the front of Marco's dress shirt."Oh my God." My lips tingling, I stared helplessly at the carnage and watched the pool of wine seep into the tablecloth, creating a rapidly-expanding circle of crimson. I was acutely aware of the woman seated at the next table, her look of disdain causing my already hot cheeks to burn with shame. But if that wasn't enough, waiting staff swooped in on us from all directions, fussing over Marco—who, it had to be said, appeared rather as though he'd been shot at point blank range in the chest—and using napkins to mop furiously at the table before any of the liquid trickled over th

I dragged my gaze away, deciding to focus on Marco instead, who by now had opened the right hand wardrobe door—not the left door, thank heavens, behind which I knew two bathrobes would be residing—and was considering a closely packed rail of clothing. Good grief—he was only staying a couple of days, wasn't he? Clearly he didn't believe in travelling light. "So when will you need me to come to Italy?" I asked, watching as he pulled out one pristine and perfectly pressed shirt and then another, holding them against his person as though there was some discernable difference between them. Marco thrust both shirts towards me, his head tilted on one side. "Which should I wear?" I frowned, leaning forward for a closer look. Ah—the collar on the first shirt was slightly wider and there was a very faint white stripe shot through the fabric of the second. "That one," I told him, pointing at the second shirt. He smiled approvingly, hanging the shirt I'd chosen on the back of the door befo