I want to go to her. To fix this. But it’s too late.
Our fathers have caused irreparable damage.
I turn to her, finding devastation personified in her anguished expression. She doesn’t deserve any of this. It’s a cruelty. A desecration of the quiet strength she carries like a torch I was never meant to touch.
I’m drawn to her, my steps deliberate, my need absolute. I pull her to my chest in a futile effort to slow a wound that refuses to stop bleeding.
She remains quiet. Soft and warm and too fucking brittle.
She doesn’t need to tell me what she’s thinking. I can feel her uncertainty. The instability that’s shaken her foundations.
“You should pack your things,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ll arrange for the yacht to return to New York so you can go home.”
She pulls back abruptly. “Is that safe?”
“I’ll make sure it is.” If I have to station security at her building I will.
She hesitates, the concern in her eyes feeding the part of me that doesn’t want to let her go.
“Okay… I guess I’ll take a shower then.” She retreats and it takes every ounce of my will not to follow. But there are plans to make and betrayals to address.
I watch her walk away, barefoot, and draped in my oversized shirt.
She’s the epitome ofmine, branded in every way that matters—except the ones that count.
I turn back to the water, the speedboat becoming a shrinking speck headed toward the coastline. Yet the distance doesn’t lessen the vehemence clawing inside me. The anger doesn’t let up.
I grab my cell from my pocket and find Langston’s number saved from when he contacted me after my father’s funeral.
Me
Stay away from her. This is your only warning. Any further communication comes through me.
The message goes from sent to read. No reply is instigated.
Being ignored only inflames my hostility.
Me
If any of your people so much as look in her direction, I will protect her accordingly, and retaliate in ways that will reach all those you care about.
Sent.
Read.
No reply.
A white-hot rage settles in my veins.
Me
Ignoring me never ends well. Don’t make the mistake of thinking my restraint means I’m harmless. I’m not my father—but I was still born a Cappelletti.
The three dots of impending reply pop up on screen, followed with the text.
Langston
My apologies. I was giving you time to beat your chest. Consider us thoroughly warned.