I close my eyes as a wave of white-hot fury washes through me.
I played right into his hands.
After Stephanie died, I dedicated my life to the family business, to being my father’s go-to man and Leo’s strategic advisor.
At least it didn’t work outentirelyin his favor.
I never did marry any of the women he trotted out for me.
I knew it pissed him off that I refused to move on—and I resented him for wanting me to.
Now, it cuts even deeper knowing heset it upthat way.
The sun cuts through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Miko’s sprawling entry like a blade, clean and sharp.
It’s too peaceful here—too bright, too quiet, too unlike the world I just came from.
“Miko?” I call—because my brother insists his staff have better things to do with their time than play butler.
No answer.
“Raf?”
Nothing.
They’re the two I would normally turn to when something was weighing me down, but it would seem they’re too busy to play therapist for me today.
Then I hear the dull, rhythmic thwack of fists hitting a heavy bag.
The sound echoes faintly from the open door leading down to the basement, and I follow it.
Sandro’s there, shirtless, tattoos darkening every inch of exposed flesh, all the way up to his jawline.
His wrapped hands fly in brutal combinations. Sweat darkens the waistband of his shorts, glistens on his neck.
He’s locked in, eyes narrowed, knuckles cutting through the air like they’ve got something to prove.
He hears me step in and doesn’t stop.
“Figures I’d find you here,” I say.
He jabs, crosses, steps to the side. “Miko and Raf are out. Strategy meeting with a potential ally or something. Nothing they need me for.” He grunts, his fist landing so hard it knocks dust loose from the ceiling where the bag is anchored. “You look like hell.”
I feel like hell.
I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten since last night—since Stephanie told me the details of her nightmare, ripping up my perceived reality and revealing truths like rot beneath creaking floorboards.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Mind if I stick around?”
Sandro huffs out a breath and pauses, turning his full attention on me for the first time. “Nah. Actually…” Crossing the room, he snags the roll of tape and tosses it at my chest. “Put this on.”
I raise a brow. “Seriously?”
“You said you didn’t come to watch.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’tnotsay it either.”
