Page 59 of The Art of Ruin

Both my brothers go quiet.

That alone is enough to irritate me.

Slowly, I turn back toward them.

Matteo’s eyebrows are somewhere near his hairline.

Nico looks profoundly unsurprised.

“I’m asking,” I say evenly, “because if someone is repeatedly contacting the woman caring for my daughter in a way that’supsetting her, I’d like to know if it’s something I should be concerned about.”

“That sounded very professional,” Matteo says solemnly. “Good job.”

“It was professional, fuck nugget.”

“Hmm.”

I ignore him.

Nico studies me for a second too long before answering carefully. “Something happened recently.”

Not enough information. “What kind of something?”

“That’s not really my story to tell.”

“She’s living in my house.”

“And she’s Isabella’s best friend. And I’m not a fan of the spare room.”

Fair. Annoying, but fair.

Matteo finally grins outright. “Oh, this is fun.”

“There’s nothing fun happening.”

“You’re emotionally monitoring the nanny.”

“I’m assessing potential risk.”

“You noticed she stopped laughing every time her phone went off.”

“That’s called observation. And clearly, so did you.”

“That’s called interest, and I noticed because I saw you watching her like a creeper.”

I stare at him.

He looks thrilled by that, too.

Nico sighs into his whiskey. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’s in danger.”

“Then why does she look like that every time the phone rings?”

Silence stretches briefly.

Not long. Just enough.

Nico’s gaze shifts back through the glass toward Isabella and Casey. “When someone breaks your trust badly enough,” he says quietly, “sometimes hearing from them again feels like ripping stitches out before the wound closes properly.”