Besides dealing with our revenge plan to destroy Luciano, my dad seems lighter, and I can’t help feeling that part of it is because I am.
Maybe it’s because he’s seeing me carry on with a luxury in life he never thought I’d experience after seeing love ripped away from him.
It makes me want to fight harder to keep her.
Protect her.
To not take Kate for granted.
If I can somehow find love, why can’t he?
I know he said finding one soulmate is rare enough, but I have this feeling in my gut that it doesn’t end there for him. It can’t. Our empire may be brutal, but he is not. Arden deserves more. He may have given up on himself, but I’ll hold on to enough hope for the both of us.
I peek down at Kate, reminding myself she’s there, and she smiles up at me with those beautiful, big green eyes. Her fingers drift down my abdomen suggestively, but slowly enough that nobody else will notice.
Which was shit thinking on my part when Carter lifts his tumbler to his lips, muttering, “You guys are disgusting.”
My father hides his dark laugh with the rim of his glass.
“Oh, fuck off.” I can’t help my evil grin. “You're just jealous.”
Something that feels like a warning flash behind his eyes when they slice to mine.
Carter’s another one I have hope for.
I don’t think he’s fucked anyone for six years. Not that I expect him to tell me if he did, but he's been extra moody lately, and his lack of dick wetting might be why. Not that I have room to judge, since Kate was the first woman I slept with since Mom and Tayla died.
Now that I think about it, he has been temperamental for the last few months, since I brought Kate to the estate.
Deciding not to rub my happiness in his face, I reach out and set my tumbler on the fire table, letting Kate sink into the couch beside me.
“How was the wedding?” I ask him.
“Hmm?” He lowers his glass from his lips.
“Your sister’s wedding.”
“Oh.” He shakes his head, as if clearing the fog that's been looming over him. I wonder how many glasses of liquor he’s had. His fingers pulse into his glass. “It was good. Glad to be back at work, though. My family was asking too many questions about my tech job.”
I know he hates that part—lying to them after he’s been trying to gain back their trust after they cut ties when he was an addict. But he’s trying. He made up a story about working ata tech company here in Maine, so they don’t know that he’s a right-hand man for the Irish mafia.
My father sits forward, bracing his elbows on his knees with an inquisitive look. “Can we see some pictures?”
Carter drags his hand over his black hair and exhales, sinking back into the chair. “I don’t have any. Wouldn’t want to have any physical ties to put them in danger.”
I nod at him curiously. I can understand that, but there’s something potent about that comment that's stinging my gut. Not the words, the look in his eye. His mannerisms.
“You want to know what’s crazy?” Kate speaks up beside me, drawing my attention. “That morning you found me at the end of the dock; I thought it was going to be Carter who caught me when I saw him getting off the boat with that duffel bag.”
That stops me short, and I swear I feel the air shift in the way Carter’s muscles tense.
“Is that so?” I deadpan.
Kate’s brows furrow at the same time my hand reaches for the Glock at my hip. With quick precision, I have it aimed.
“Oh my God, Preston. What are you doing?” Kate tosses her hands up like I’m pointing the gun at her.
But it’s not. It’s on my best friend.
