The Wrong Brother
“No moping around.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Confidence and strength,” he said simply. “Don’t let them see you slip. Ever. A weakling is a prey. And I don’t date preys.”
I snorted. “Oh, please. You sound like a motivational poster.”
His lips curved, faint but undeniable. “Then maybe it’s working.”
I glared at him, but before I could respond, a flash of movement caught my eye.
Bruno.
He stood just inside the café, his jaw tight, his posture rigid. His gaze locked on me, then flicked to Adrian, and I swear I saw his ego crack right there in the middle of the room.