Chapter 14

• "Alright, I think so." I clicked my tongue, reaching for the remote on the kitchen counter and turning on the TV. I browsed shows on the streaming platform, landing at Grey's Anatomy. There was something soothing about complicated medical afflictions and soap opera-style drama.
• There was an ad before the show came on, and I rolled my eyes. My multimillionaire brother ought to pay extra to avoid these, but no. Equally so, as the ad had been for a Tom Ford fragrance and featured soccer player Marcello Sarratore. He reclined on a gold dune in the center of the desert, perspiration trickling down his bronzy, chiseled six-pack. Black, styled curls graced the expanse of his giant chest, with thick stubble over those blade-sharp cheekbones. Sarratore was a bronze, larger-than-life living gladiator.
• I swallowed hard. "Is Marcello Sarratore on?" I blurted out of turn.