Page 66 of Lucky

I look away quickly, the heat in my chest rising. I’ve tried to avoid her all night, tried to keep my distance as the after-dinner drinks carried on. But it’s impossible. She’s gravity, pulling me back to her every time my attention starts to wander. Even as she was chatting animatedly with Allegra and Mia, I found my eyes straying back to her. Even when she stood across the room with Dante, the two of them leaning in, whispering in low voices, probably plotting the future of the Vicci family or strategizing the next move to retain control.

It doesn’t matter where she is. She pulls me in like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and every time I think I’ve pushed her away—every time I think I’ve learned how to ignore her—I find my gaze wandering back to her again.

And now, here I am, watching her from across the room, feeling that familiar tug at the base of my spine. It’s maddening. She shouldn’t have this power over me, and yet, she does.

I know what this is. It’s dangerous, it’s reckless, but it’s undeniable.

I can’t keep my eyes off her. The more time I spend in her orbit, the harder it becomes to leave her, to walk away and tend to the things that need my attention. Every moment with her feels like I’m losing myself to something I don’t understand. Something I didn’t plan for. Something that has sunk so deeply into my veins, it’s poisoning me slowly.

I try to tear my gaze away, but it’s impossible. She’s there—watching me with those unreadable eyes. I’m so aware of her now, of how she stands in that room, how she looks at me as though she knows everything I’m trying to hide. I can’t breathe with the weight of her stare on me, and yet, I can’t look away.

She’s too embedded in me, in my thoughts, in my every waking breath. I’m aware of her in ways I can’t control, and just the thought of her makes my pulse spike. I could cut myself off from her. I could walk away, leave her behind like I’ve donewith so many others before. But it’s different with Jacklyn. She’s carved herself into my bones, into my blood. And I know that if I were to walk away, I would cease to exist in the same way.

Maybe that’s what scares me most.

The soft murmur of conversation fades into the background as I finally drag my eyes away from her. But it’s only for a second, just long enough to collect myself. When I glance back, she’s gone—slipped out of the room, disappearing like

she was never there.

But I can feel her, like an echo, her presence lingering in the corners of the room, in the empty space between us. I can feel her, even when she’s not looking at me. Even when she’s not here.

This isn’t just about attraction anymore. This is something deeper, something more dangerous. The kind of thing I can’t just walk away from. The kind of thing that, if I let it, will swallow me whole.

“You seem distracted,”my brother Brando observes, his voice light but the sharpness in his eyes betraying a keen awareness. He passes me a drink, the glass cold against my fingers, the amber liquid swishing lazily inside. It’s a rare moment of quiet, just the two of us standing by the large window that overlooks the estate. The room behind us is alive with conversation, the hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but in this moment, it’s just us—two brothers, silently assessing each other.

I take the drink without hesitation, my gaze briefly flicking across the room before landing back on Brando as he starts up again. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you haven’t taken your eyes off Jacklyn all night?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snap back, a little too quickly. I try to mask the tension building in my chest with sarcasm, the bitterness in my voice just sharp enough to make him take a step back.

Brando’s lips curl into a smirk, the kind that tells me he’s not buying it. He leans against the window frame, arms crossed loosely over his chest, and lets the silence stretch between us. For a second, I think he might let it slide, but then he pushes off the frame, closing the distance between us with a lazy, purposeful stride.

“You think I don’t know you?” he chuckles, his voice low, carrying an undertone of both amusement and challenge. "You're wearing that face like a damn mask, Lucky. But you and I both know you don't hide things well."

I don’t respond immediately. I bring the glass to my lips, savoring the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat. I need a moment to compose myself, to shake off whatever the hell it is that’s eating at me tonight. But Brando doesn’t give me that luxury.

“Try not to scare her off with that brooding ‘I’m too cool to care’ thing you do,” he continues, his tone uncharacteristically serious now, though his eyes gleam with mischief.

I shift my weight, the muscles in my jaw tightening as I force myself to look at him, really look at him. Brando’s always been the one to cut straight to the heart of things. He doesn’t mince words, never has. He knows how to push my buttons, and he knows when I need to be left alone. And tonight, for some reason, it feels like he’s really trying to pull my puzzle pieces apart.

I exhale sharply, finally breaking eye contact. I hate how easy it is for Brando to pull me out of my head, to make me confront things I’d rather push down. But I know there’s no point inpretending. He can read me like an open book, and the more I try to hide, the more he’ll find.

Brando’s smirk deepens as he waits, but there’s no mockery in his expression—only understanding. “That would imply that she’s interested.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I instantly regret saying them.

Brando’s expression shifts, the playful mask slipping away, replaced by something more thoughtful. “Ah,” he says, a knowing grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that why you’re so sombre? You think she doesn’t see you? She’s just as good at pretending as you are, little brother.” I fix him with a confused look. “You two have been circling each other all night. Did no-one mention there’s a ring of fire around you both?”

I nod curtly, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into my voice. “Every damn time I think I’ve got my head straight, she’s there—pulling me in, distracting me. I can’t seem to focus, and I can’t get her out of my damn head.” I tap two firm fingers to my temple, as though this action carries more weight than anything I could possibly tell him.

Brando’s chuckle is low, almost pitying. “Lucky, you’ve been fighting that pull since the moment you laid eyes on her. If you’re waiting for some grand moment of clarity, don’t hold your breath. Just stop fighting it.”

I grimace, feeling the weight of his words. I want to argue, want to throw some sharp retort back at him, but I know he’s right. “It’s more complicated than that,” I say, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince anymore—him, or myself.

Brando’s smile returns, but this time it’s tempered with something deeper, almost paternal. He slaps me on the back in a brotherly way, the force of it enough to make me stumble slightly. “Things are only as complicated as you let them be, brother.”

I bristle, resisting the urge to shove him away, to brush off the sentiment. But his words strike a nerve, and I can’t quite shake them. There’s no point in denying the truth anymore, not when it’s staring me in the face, coming from my own brother.

“Do you want my advice?” Brando asks, his voice more serious now. I hesitate, but before I can respond, he adds, “Dante’s made his wishes clear. And we all agree with him, if that gives you the clarity you seek. You’re not just some player in her game, Lucky. You’ve been standing on the sidelines for too long. It’s time to decide if you’re in or out.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.