I glared at him, hating the fucker for rubbing it in my face but unable to argue. “What am I supposed to do? Let her continue to do business with the bratva and not tell her father?”

“Let me talk to her about handing over the business aspects to you, if you’re willing to do that. If Sofia and I keep our relationship purely based on friendship, would that be agreeable to you?”

Agreeable was hardly the word I would choose—tolerable would fit better, or maybe sufferable. “I’m sure you make a nice little profit off her work. You’d be willing to give that up?”

“It was never about the money for either of us. As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

Fuck. He was being totally reasonable, and I knew it. But it was also clear he was one hundred percent in love with her. How was I supposed to let her spend time with another man who had feelings for her? On the other hand, how could I in good conscience deny her access to her best friend? I was fucked either way. “I don’t like it, but I’m not sure I have any options.”

“Welcome to the club, man.” Michael looked at me, and for a moment, he dropped his playboy easygoing front, allowing me to see the pain he carried. It was only the briefest glance, but it was enough. He’d been stuck playing second fiddle to me for the past seven years. I was glad he’d been there for her but couldn’t imagine why he’d stuck around. It had to have been torture being near her all that time and knowing he could never have her.

“It’s fucked up. You not moving on.” I couldn’t help from commenting even though it was none of my business.

“You’re telling me,” he muttered. “My eyes aren’t closed to other options.”

“Good, because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worrying about this. Until you find someone else, you keep your dick in your pants when you’re around Sofia.”

“Right, I’ll try to remember that,” he shot back sarcastically. “Listen, there’s one other thing I wanted to tell you. A week ago, a guy approached Sofia outside her dorm asking questions about me. He claimed to be a cop, but my sources didn’t turn up anything. Called himself Detective James Breechner—the name mean anything to you?”

Just when I started feeling like the threat level was down, a completely unknown variable is brought to my attention. “Never heard the name before. What did he want?”

“She didn’t give him the chance to ask questions after he asked about her relationship with me. He hasn’t shown back up or contacted her again. I wanted you to know so you could keep an eye out.”

The last thing I wanted was to like Michael, but he made it hard not to. I should have given Sofia more credit not to buddy up to an asshole. I wanted to hate the guy for obvious reasons, but that was looking less and less possible. We weren’t going on any fishing trips together or shit like that, but I was willing to admit he might not be all bad.