I didn’t know if she was crying about the fate she’d just condemned herself to, or about the fate I’d almost met. All I knew was that, to save me, she’d given my asshole stepbrother a decade of her life.
I’d tried to stay—for her. But six months after my mother’s death, I called it quits and asked the organization’s accountant for my inheritance, only to find out that Trenton had wired it into his account. He told me I could have it—if I stayed. If I left, I walked away with nothing.
I forfeited my parents’ savings. What I didn’t forfeit is Quinn. Before leaving Boston, I’d tried a few more times to reason with her, but she chose Trenton. Chose tomarryhim. Kept saying it was better for everyone and swearing he wasn’t so bad.
The man who’d run over my dog wasn’tso bad…
That’s the day I bought the Woody and hit the road. It took me four years to buy a burner phone and call her to make sure she was still alive, and then another two to trust her with my new number.
The few times we managed to talk, she didn’t complain about her situation, but I knew her well enough to sense she was miserable.
After her cheek…after she finally escaped Trenton, she confessed she’d stayed because she loved to fix broken things and had the delusion that Trenton was broken. But a year into her marriage, she realized there was no fixing pure evil. Unlike Hudson, who had a few screws loose, Trenton’s level of depravity was unmatched.
No, I’m wrong. It is matched. By Monta.
Is the monster sweet-talking Electra right now? Will she fall under his charm the way Quinn once fell under Trenton’s—or will her adoptive family succeed where I failed?
When the elevator spits me into the underground parking lot, I tip my cap low to avoid the cameras and walk at a clipped pace toward my car. Just as I round a pillar, I freeze, because parked beside the Woody is a shiny black Escalade from which a blond boy is exiting.
“But I just got here,” Alexander Monta wails into the cell phone pressed to his ear.
I consider booking it out of there, but of course, that’s when his pale-blue eyes land on me. I start up again, trying to even out my pulse as I walk past him.
Gael’s kid tracks me with his gaze, then full-on turns when I get into the station wagon. Before he can ask why I parked in a spot reserved for the Penthouse, I duck into my car and get the hell out of there.
Chapter 17
Electra
It’s been twenty minutes since I joined Gael, Dorian, and Mom in the living room. Gael is the only one who’s spoken in the span of those twenty minutes.
Mom stands from the sofa. “I’m just going to check on your father’s ETA. Be right back.”
Gael burrows into his armchair, propping one ankle on his opposite knee. “You mean Yosef since I’m?—”
“Let’s get one thing clear, Gael.” Red slashes my mother’s cheekbones. “You willneverbe Electra’s father.”
“Presumptuous. How about we ask for her opinion?”
Mom cuts the air with her arm. “By all means, ask…” Her tired eyes sparkle with a plea.
“I’m happy to finally make your acquaintance,” I reply diplomatically, “but I’m all set in the parental department. In the sibling department as well.”
Gael’s eyes tighten. “So you don’t even want to meet your real brother?”
“I am her real brother,” Dorian growls.
Gael pays him no mind.
“I’d be happy to meet Alexander—eventually. So you were saying how you ended up in Chicago, which is where you met the woman who gave birth to me, right?”
“That’s right.”
“How did you meet?”
“She was the hostess at one of my restaurants. I have a whole conglomerate of restaurants and clubs across the US.”
“You already mentioned that,” Dorian grumbles. “Just like you mentioned your revenue and profit margins.”
