The Brother I shouldn't Love

Elena's POV

I was halfway through packing when Shannon’s voice came from the doorway.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Elena?”

I looked up from my suitcase, catching her reflection in the mirror. Arms crossed, lips pressed into that familiar disapproving line, she looked exactly the way she always did when she was trying not to show she didn't approve of my decision

“C'mon, it is Rafael’s birthday, Shannon,” I said, folding my white blouse and setting it neatly on top of my heels. “Of course, I have to go. And I am sure, it's not just going to be just his birthday, I guess his father is going to hand over the company to him, as the new CEO, since he is turning twenty-seven."

Her brows arched. “Have to? Sounds more like you are trying to convince yourself. Because I don't think Rafael wants you there."

I turned around, clutching my hairbrush. “You are impossible, you know that?”

She grinned giving that teasing, slightly smug grin that used to drive me crazy when we were kids. “And you’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

I despise myself, but I force a laugh. That was the thing about Shannon. She could make me laugh even when I was on edge. Which, right now, I absolutely was.

I have no idea if what I was doing is the right thing. Rafael didn't tell me; he was celebrating his birthday. I only found out last night from Dad that this was going to be different from other birthdays of his. Which usually involved going out with a few friends but not this time. His father is having a grand party for him, and I wanted to go, even though he didn't inform me.

She crossed the room and sat on my bed, watching me zip the bag shut. “I still remember the first time we met. You were crying like the world was ending.”

I froze, the memory hitting me like a soft punch to the chest. “I thought I was dying.”

“You were twelve, and dramatic,” She said fondly.

“And you were fourteen, and bossy.” I laughed, shaking my head. “God, I will never forget the look on Dad's face when I told him there was blood on my sheets. He nearly collapsed, pulling me into his arms as he drove like mad to the hospital, and he was spitting fire when the doctor was taking too long to attend to me."

Shannon threw her head back and laughed. “He did! I couldn't help it when I heard him place a call to someone, completely pale, muttering something about internal bleeding, his daughter was having internal bleeding. Coming from someone in the medical field, it's absurd.” I wouldn't blame Dad, I was all he had; likewise, he was all I had. Mother had left me the moment she had me. They were both young, and naive when they had me. Dad was only sixteen when I was born, while my mother was fifteen. They were barely almost a teenager. Dad said it was a mistake, but then he said I was a beautiful mistake. Most people find it hard to believe that he was my father. How could a thirty-seven-year-old man have a twenty-one-year-old girl?

“And then you just walked in, calm as ever, telling him I wasn’t dying.”

“I had to,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Uncle Valkor Moretti was about to faint.”

That day would forever be burned into my memory, the way I had clung to Shannon, trembling, and how she would quietly explain everything to me, step by step, like it was no big deal. From that moment on, she hadn’t just been my nanny. She had been my best friend. My sister. My other half. We shared everything. There was no secret between us, if there is anyone who knows me more than my dad or even myself, it's Shannon.

“I still can’t believe Dad let you stay. When I told him, I wanted you to stay, even when he had refused every other female,” I murmured, smiling.

“Well, someone had to teach you how to exist without crying over everything,” She said, smirking. I know she was right. I was such a crybaby, and Shannon was living at the orphanage before my father took her in, and back at the orphanage, they weren't treating her right.

I threw a pillow at her, which she dodged easily. “Oh, please. I taught you how to act like a lady.”

“You taught me how to survive your father’s endless business dinners,” She countered. “So technically, I saved your life and you saved mine."

I sat beside her on the bed, leaning my head on her shoulder. “You’re going to make me miss my flight if you keep this up.”

“I would prefer that,” she muttered.

"Shannon..."

She turned to face me, serious now. “Elena, I don’t like him. You know I never have.”

I exhaled softly. “You don’t like anyone I like.”

“That’s because no one’s been good enough for you,” she said, no hesitation in her voice. “And Rafael Rossetti Romano? He is charming, rich, and one of the most eligible bachelors. No doubt, he is every woman's dream, but he is also slippery. There is something about him I can’t trust.”

I shook my head, standing. “He is changed. You will see.”

“Changed?” She repeated, standing too. “He barely calls. He cancels plans. And when he does see you, it’s always when it benefits him. I know I have never dated anyone, but I know enough when a man is willing to sacrifice everything for the woman he loves."

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the sting of truth in her words. “He has been busy.”

“Busy men still make time for the women they love,” she said softly.

That shut me up.

Shannon stepped closer and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear like she used to when I was little. “You deserve someone who shows up for you, Lena.”

“I know,” I whispered, forcing a smile. “And he will. You will see when I come back.”

Her sigh was long and heavy, but she didn’t argue again. Instead, she watched me pull my suitcase upright and reach for my purse.

“Are you taking the jet?” She asked suddenly, hopeful.

I laughed. “Dad would kill me if he found out I used the private jet for a personal trip. And I didn't want him to know, I was leaving without those boring men." I was referring to the security guards, "No, I booked a commercial flight.”

"What?" She screamed, and I nodded, "Then I’m coming with you,” she said immediately.

I turned around, half-amused, half-exasperated. “No, you are not.”

“Elena..."

"Shannon..." I gave her my best impression of my father’s no-nonsense tone. “You know he’ll be furious if he finds out I dragged you along. He needs you to finish the charity paperwork. He needs you here, and I need you here, because you are the only female I trust to care for my dad."

Her lips pursed. “I hate it when you pull the ‘Papa card. And for crying out loud, your dad doesn't need me to babysit him, his numerous girlfriends could care for him. And I'm sure, Amara Blake, would do a perfect job on that."

I smiled, shaking my head, Amara Blake, Dad's little fling, “You taught me well, and even if Dad had a thousand girlfriends, your coffee was still his favorite."

She groaned, shaking her head. “Fine. But promise me you'll call the moment you land.”

“I promise.”

“Not a voice note,” she added sternly. “I want to see your face.”

“Bossy as always,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged me tightly, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “I hate letting you go. You are still that terrified twelve-year-old to me sometimes.”

“And you are still that know-it-all fourteen-year-old who told my father I wasn’t dying.”

We both laughed, even as tears pricked my eyes.

By the time I reached the front door, she was already trailing behind me, still giving last-minute instructions.

“Text me when you check in!”

“I will.”

“Don’t eat anything strange on the plane!”

"Shannon..."

“I mean it, Elena Valkor Moretti!" That's my name, Elena Valkor Moretti, the only child of the infamous Mafia boss, Valkor Moretti, the head of Moretti syndicate/ Arkanis Pharma Group, one man who could burn the world to ashes just for his twenty-one-year-old daughter. Unleash havoc with the snap of his fingers and to think everyone thinks his company is just a billion-dollar biotech firm developing life-saving drugs for kidney disease, cancer, and rare genetic disorders but the truth is, that is only a front for laundering cartel money, illegal drug synthesis, and organ trafficking disguised as donor logistics.

I turned, smiling, and waved as the driver loaded my suitcase. “I’ll be fine. Love you!”

She stood in the doorway, arms folded but smiling. “Love you more. Now go before I change my mind and lock you in your room.”

Her voice was the last thing I heard before the car pulled away.

Hours later, the airport smelled of coffee, fuel, and the faint impatience of travelers. I stood near the arrival gate, suitcase by my side, my heart doing tiny nervous flips.

Rafael hadn’t replied to my last message. Typical. But that was okay. Maybe he wanted to surprise me too. Maybe he was already here, looking for me.

I checked my reflection in the glass wall, pale pink dress, soft waves in my hair, and a touch of rose lipstick. Perfect. The necklace he gave me glimmered under the lights, a reminder of how things used to be when love was easy.

My phone buzzed. I smiled, expecting his name.

Rafael: Can’t make it. Sending someone to pick you up.

I frowned. Someone?

Before I could type a reply, I heard the sharp, rhythmic sound of footsteps, steady, unhurried, confident. The kind that drew attention without asking for it.

I turned.

A man was walking through the crowd, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black that fit him too perfectly to be a coincidence. His hair was dark, his jaw sharp, his eyes hidden beneath the shadow of the terminal lights but there was something magnetic about him. Something that made my breath catch before I even realized I was staring.

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze finding mine with startling precision.

“Elena Moretti, right?” he asked, voice deep and smooth, like smoke wrapped in velvet.

My throat tightened. “Yes.”

He smiled faintly, a small, practiced curve of lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m Nikolai," he said. "Rafael's brother. I’m here to take you home.”