And with that, he climbs into the Jeep and slams the door.
I watch him drive away, tears streaming down my cheeks, hugging myself, shivering. But it’s not the cold air I’m feeling.
“Dammit-to-fucking-hell!”
My foot heavy on the pedal, the city skyline fades into a blur of headlights, brake lights, and endless asphalt. But I can still see her—Lexie. No, Alexandra. It was like watching a bad movie with a fucked up ending no one saw coming.
She was almost unrecognizable, except for those eyes. She wore no glasses, a suit that probably cost more than I make ina month, and her voice. It was cool and calculated, showing no nerves or anxiety, no squeezing her stress ball. She was totally in command.
Her father taught her well.
Jesus. I can’t get over it. Not just the shock of who she really was, but how perfectly she wore the mask of Lexie Monroe. Was it all an angle? Did her father send her to work me for that development deal? Was the whole finding-my-independence-and-confidence story some carefully crafted narrative? Because the woman I saw today in the boardroom wasn’t lacking either, that’s for damn sure.
What a joke I must seem to her. I can hear her voice.I’ve never been turned on before. You’re the first man who’s made me feel like I’m blooming.It was all bullshit. She was just stroking my ego, making me believe we had something real.
Hollywood definitely missed a star in her.
Even an hour later, as I exit the freeway onto Route 14 toward Bayside, the storm inside me hasn’t calmed. If anything, the anger had time to fester and reach a boiling point. The way she looked at me outside that glass and chrome highrise, heartbroken and sorry. As if I would believe that when everything else had been a lie.
The Jeep rattles over a divot in the road, jolting me out of my head for long enough to shift my focus. Fine. I was stupid then, but I’m wiser now. Lexie, Alexandra, whatever her name is—she’s dead to me. All that matters is Sophia.
I know what it’s like to go up against Townsen. I tried before—when Mom passed, and I had to raise Sophia while I was still in high school. I needed to keep the house and had no real means of income. I sent letters, called the offices, and even hired a lawyer with Val’s help. Townsen’s response was a coldfuck you. I didn’t have the resources to fight back then, and by the time Iwas making better money, I didn’t want to put Sophia through that uphill battle or risk her education fund.
But I’m not backing down this time, just as I hadn’t when Townsen tried to build here. I rallied this town to put up the fight of our lives.
I know Sophia’s scared—afraid of what reporting it will do to her future in that industry. She’s afraid of taking on someone with money, clout, and a whole organization behind him. A man that can bury the truth or spin it, withherleading his damn PR team.
I take a breath and get my head into a better place before I call Eva to check on Soph.
“How’s she doing?” I ask.
“She came out of her room and ate some soup. It’s going to take time,mi hijo. Don’t expect her just to bounce back.”
“I don’t. I just—” I pause, swallowing hard. “I just want to do whatever I can to make it better.”
“Then make this about Sophia, not your need to be her protector.”
The words hit home. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. You warned me. Dice did too.”A Black man attacking a rich, white dude. Who you think’s coming out on top of that? Not your Black ass.
It could have gone down just like that ifshehadn’t stepped in between us. Ifshehadn’t called off security. “I shouldn’t have gone. I saw him, and it accomplished nothing.” Well, not nothing, but fuck that.
Eva exhales slowly. “At least you’re safe and not sitting in jail.”
“Not for a lack of trying,” I mutter.
“When will you be home?”
“Soon. Just stopping off at the café first. Do you mind staying a bit longer?”
“Of course not.”
“Thanks, Eva,” I say, grateful for her.
It’s after the lunch rush when I pull into the café parking lot. I send Dice a quick update, leaving out any mention ofher. Inside, the familiar scent of espresso feels almost mocking. I wave at a few regulars, forcing a smile. Jamar and Lydia—a high school student who works summers—are behind the counter tidying up.
“You’re back,” Jamar calls, saluting with a grin.
“Yeah. Not staying long. Thanks for holding down the fort. Everything okay?”
