“Which one?” I muse under my breath.
“Aiden….” Diana draws me back to her.
“Consider yourself on notice at Winter Financial. I’m giving you six months to find another job. It’s generous. If you make an issue out of it, I’ll use these damn photographs to claim sexual assault.”
She takes a step back at the viciousness in my voice. “Aiden, I’m family.”
“No,darling, you fucked up my marriage, hurt mywife on purpose. That makes you enemy number one. Have a good night and start looking for a new job.”
“You can’t fire me. Nelson is chairman.” She gives me a withering look, her arms crossed.
“Wanna bet?” My lips tip up in amusement. “Dad has that role because I let him. I run this company. I own that board. The investors are with us because of me. If I leave?—”
“You can’t. This is your family business,” she gasps.
“If I leave,” I continue, “the fortune that my family seems to think is going to last forever, while everyone dicks around, will begone.”
“All this because ofher?” Diana demands.
“Yeah, Diana. You know why? BecauseI love her. I screwed up, no doubt about that, but I love her and I’m going to win her back. I can’t do that if the woman who’s been throwing herself at me is still working for me. Which is why you’re going to quietly resign and get the fuck out of my life.”
“I’m still going to be family,” she retorts smugly.
“Maybe theirs. But not mine.”
And just like that, I know what I’m going to have to do. To be Mia’s husband, I have to give up being a member of this toxic family.
CHAPTER 11
Mia
Ican’t stop crying.
The adrenaline has long since worn off, and the reality of what I did crashes down on me like an avalanche. The SUV cuts through the darkness and snow, but I can barely see anything through the blur of tears.
I’m not crying because I regret how I walked away.
I’m crying because it hurt so much that I had to.
Cristiano drives in silence.
He hasn’t said much since I got in the car. I’m grateful. I don’t want comfort right now. I don’t want soothing words or empty promises.
I want the cold to keep stinging my cheeks. I want the silence to wrap around me until I can finally breathe again.
We drive through the snowy back roads of Stowe for fifteen minutes until the SUV turns onto a narrow private lane.
Christmas lights twinkle faintly in the distance. I catch a glimpse of the farmhouse as we approach—a sprawling, rustic-modern home with black shutters and a wraparound porch, flanked by rows of snow-dusted evergreens.
Cristiano slows to a stop. “We’re here.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
He comes around and opens the door for me. The wind hits me hard again. I step out onto the packed snow, boots crunching beneath me.
Cristiano doesn’t push. He doesn’t try to fill the silence. He’s there when I need him, and he’s there when I don’t.
He helps me out of my coat and hangs it by the door.
