You’re trying very hard to focus as your best friend confesses his undying love for you.
A difficult task, considering the evidence of your latest rendezvous with his older brother is still slipping down your inner thigh.
“I’m in love with you.”
Corin says it without blinking.
Oh, this is a disaster.
Twenty minutes ago, Silvanus Kareschi had lured you into the private auction gallery for a thoroughly inappropriate encounter against an antique display table. You’d barely straightened your clothes before he sent you back to the gala ahead of him, promising to follow once he’d found his missing tie.
Now his younger brother is standing before you, completely oblivious.
And for once, Corin Kareschi looks genuinely terrified of the answer.
“I’ve loved you for years,”
he says.
“Before Sera. Before any of it.”
He gives a crooked smile, running a hand through his chestnut hair. It’s the same smile he’s worn through years of inside jokes, terrible dates, and late-night conversations. Only this time, it doesn’t quite hide his nerves.
“After Sera cheated, I realized how much time I’d wasted being afraid to tell you what I want.”
He draws a breath, the practiced confidence of the Kareschi golden boy slipping just enough to reveal the man beneath it.
“And what I want is you.”
Then he kisses you, impulsively and briefly, before drawing back.
“Sorry. I should’ve asked. Just give me a chance. One date.”
There’s no smugness in his expression now. Just a man who has finally risked the friendship he values most for the possibility of something more.
A slow clap interrupts.
“Well. That was embarrassing.”
Silvanus stands beneath the archway, bourbon in hand, his black shirt open at the collar. His gaze flicks from Corin’s mouth to yours.
Then he smiles.
The bastard looks positively delighted.
“Silvanus. Leave.”
“Oh, don’t stop. You were just getting to the part where you beg.”
He strolls closer, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Though using your cheating ex as the opening act? Inspired. Nothing says romance quite like advertising your emotional damage.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“How much time have you got?”
Silvanus sets his bourbon on the antique display table.
The same table.
His tattooed fingers brush its polished edge.
“Beautiful craftsmanship. Remarkably sturdy.”
His eyes meet yours, amusement dancing behind the gray.
“Are you seriously discussing furniture?”
“Forgive me. I was admiring the evening’s finer attractions.”
Corin rolls his eyes.
“Ignore him. Dinner tomorrow. Seven. Just us.”
His voice is steady again, but there’s something stubbornly earnest in the way he keeps his attention on you, refusing to let his brother turn the confession into a joke.
Silvanus’s smile remains.
His fingers stop moving.
“Christ, Corin. One kiss and suddenly you think you’ve won something.”
“I’m not trying to win anything. I’m asking for a chance.”
“How terribly noble. Though you might want to find out whether you’re the only one asking.”
Corin frowns.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just admiring your optimism.”
He moves past you, leaning close enough for his next words to reach you alone.
“Tell him about us, sweetheart. Go on, see how romantic he finds it.”
He pauses, his smile widening.
“Or don’t. It isn’t mine to tell.”
His voice is barely a whisper. The threat is the one thing missing from it.
“What was that?”
“Just a little advice. Nothing you’d appreciate.”
He slips a black business card from his jacket and offers it to you between two fingers.
His personal number is already in your phone.
Silvanus knows that. He also knows Corin doesn’t.
The card is a performance for his brother: a perfectly innocent invitation with just enough arrogance to make Corin bristle.
But the look Silvanus gives you carries a different message.
You don’t get to pretend I’m not part of this.
“Or if you’d rather spend your evening somewhere entertaining tomorrow, you know where to find me.”
His voice is casual. The offer isn’t.
“Seriously? You can’t let me have one moment?”
“A word of advice, Corin. Wanting something badly doesn’t make it yours.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking.”
Corin does not raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. For all the rivalry between them, there’s a quiet conviction in his answer that Silvanus can’t easily ridicule.
For the first time, Silvanus looks genuinely annoyed.
Only for a second.
Then he retrieves his bourbon.
“Good luck with the date, baby brother.”
He disappears into the ballroom without another glance.
Corin shakes his head, exhaling through a humorless smile.
“God, he’s an asshole.”
Then he turns back to you, offering his hand.
The familiar warmth returns to his expression, though his uncertainty hasn’t entirely disappeared.
“I’ve wanted this for years. One date. Tomorrow night. Let me take you somewhere nice.”
The black business card remains between you.
Corin doesn’t know his brother’s personal number is already in your phone. He doesn’t know what happened on the antique table twenty minutes ago.
And Silvanus has just made it clear that none of it is his to spend.
One brother is offering you a future.
The other is leaving that future entirely in your hands. He has said so, in this room, before any of this began: any night you want it finished, it is finished.
Corin’s hand remains outstretched. The confident smile is back, but there’s something painfully sincere behind it.
“Seven o’clock,”
he says.
“I’ll be outside at seven.”