I scowled at my brothers.
What? Why were they acting like this?
“Your behavior, Jack . . .” Dante shook his head, making atskingnoise. “Most unbecoming of a true gentleman.”
“Now see here—” Jack began.
Tennyson stood up, jabbing a finger at Jack. “We trusted you, Jack. We have helped you and given you a roof over your head when you needed it.”
“We allowed you into our homes and, to be honest”—Branwell tapped his chest—“into our hearts.”
“And this is how you repay us?” Dante spread his arms wide.
“We trusted you with our sister’s honor.” Tennyson joined Dante and Branwell.
A line of D’Angelo men.
“Since when have you ever cared about my boyfriends?” The nerve! I refused to be some prized jewel, passed along from brother to husband. The bones of feminists throughout history shuddered in revulsion—
Wait.Boyfriend?!
Had I essentially just called Jack my boyfriend in front of my brothers? Crap—
Fortunately, the testosterone-laden people in the room ignored me, laser-focused on poor Jack.
“You have soiled her reputation.” Dante shook his head.
“Now who will have her?” Branwell mourned.
Oh!
They were so dead.
“How dare you?!” Jack marched over to Dante. “I hold your sister in the highest regard.”
“Well, you clearly hold her in something,” Tennyson muttered. “But I’m not quite sure I would label itregard—”
“Lust, more like.” Dante looked at Tennyson.
“Indeed,” Tennyson deadpanned.
So.
Dead.
“Jack—” I tried to pull him back, but of course my hand passed through his arm.
Jack was beyond listening to me. He got within six inches of Dante’s nose.
“I value your sister’s honor and were I capable, I most certainly would ask for her hand in marriage—”
Wait.
What?
“—but as you can see, that is currently denied me. I am sorry that you find my actions reprehensible, but I cannot regret kissing Chiara and will do so again, should the opportunity arise!”
Dante blinked. And then his entire chest collapsed, chortling laughter filling the air. Tennyson and Branwell followed, back slapping, eye wiping hilarity.
