“I’m here, aren’t I?” I say a tad too defensively.
“And you plan to camp out at the hotel until the house is ready, and then you’ll just change locations and camp out there?”
I straighten, agitated. “Can you drop the judgment, please?”
He sighs. “I knew I should’ve ignored your protests and come with you. You need your shrink with you.”
I laugh lightly, shaking my head. “You’re not my shrink.”
“I know; family and conflict of interest and all that jazz.”
“And because you left your medical practice, remember? You’re the VP of operations and logistics now.”
Keifer’s dream was to be a doctor, specifically a psychiatrist. However, Luthor’s dream was for his children to run WentzellGlobal, so when he became terminally ill, Keifer had caved and left his practice.
“Why did you have to go and trigger me again?” he complains. “Now all I can think about is that stupid board meeting. And you know Urs is a control freak; she won’t actually let me do my job or make any decisions. Which, I don’t blame her, because I’m not qualified to be the VP, and everyone knows it.”
I leave the railing and sink into the lounger, pulling up my feet. “She’s just letting you finish your orientation. And you’re a genius; you’ll learn fast. I know you’re putting in insane hours to learn everything about the company and your responsibilities.”
“It’s been six weeks. And I know my sister—” He cuts off abruptly and huffs out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about Ursula’s stick-up-her-arse controlling demeanor. Let’s talk about you.”
I tilt my face up to the sun that’s trying to warm me despite the cold wind. “Let’s not.”
“You need to have a game plan and be prepared for how you’re going to deal with Guerilla. So you don’t run again like when he got close to finding you in New Orleans.”
I ran to New Orleans after leaving San Francisco, hiding and barely surviving, both physically and financially. I worked in a café in the French Quarter, where Luthor, a kind gentleman who traveled there regularly for business, would come in every month to enjoy the music. The café was his favorite spot, and he knew all the staff by name. The manager, Ruth, bless her soul, knew I was leery of bikers, so when she heard rumors of a man from a club not affiliated with any in the city looking for a woman who matched my description, she told me immediately.
It had almost been closing time, and Luthor had been packing up to leave. He had seen my panic and paralyzing fear—I had still been so fragile physically and mentally after my horrendousloss. So after I confessed why I was so afraid, Luthor stole me away on his private jet, and I never looked back.
He had asked me to marry him, not out of love but for companionship for him and protection, stability, and security for me. I never wanted his money, and I was the one who insisted on signing a prenuptial agreement. I loved him; maybe not a burning, all-consuming love, but one that was filled with respect and tenderness.
My life with the Wentzell family these past years has been the healing balm I needed, but without facing my past and putting those ghosts to rest, a part of me wouldn’t heal; it would continue to fester. Luthor knew this, hence why he wrapped it up in a deathbed promise, knowing that my love and respect for him would make me honor it, even if it was the last thing on earth I wanted to do.
I didn’t know he had purchased a home here for me until the reading of his will. He had gotten it for me to have a place to comfortably stay while I sought closure with my past, and also in case I wanted to remain in San Francisco.
“I know how triggering this can be for you.” Concern laces Kiefer’s words. “That’s why I wanted to be there for you.”
“I know, and I love you for it.” I rub my temples, feeling a migraine starting to brew. “Remind me why I’m doing this again, though, and how it will give me closure?”
“So you face your betrayers and show them you didn’t break and crumble. So they know you’re strong, and that they need to beg for your forgiveness. But even if they don’t beg for forgiveness,youneed to forgive them, Leeva, so you can stop carrying that burden.”
“I’ll never stop carrying the burden of losing my child.” My voice cracks.
“I know.” His voice softens. “But because you ran—and please don’t take that as I’m placing blame on you, because I’mdefinitely not—you never got a chance to see if Hayes or Guerilla were remorseful. And that, I think, is what’s bothered you so much all these years, and it’s the root of the pain that continues to fester within you.”
I blow out a heavy breath. “What if Guerilla does something stupid and won’t let me go?”
“You assured us that the president of their club would never force a woman to stay with any man. But if you doubt that, then you need to get the hell out of there this instant.”
“No, I trust Ash.”
Even though I haven’t seen him for over a decade, I know he wouldn’t force me to be with Guerilla if I didn’t want to. To Ash, morals and things like consent were something he lived and died by, just as his dad, Zeus, had. It was something Zeus instilled in him after losing a sister to trafficking.
Keifer laughs, and it sounds a bit evil. “Besides, Guerilla has no claim on you any longer. The best cosmetic surgeon in the world removed the tattoo, so there’snotrace of it, not even a scar or discoloration of your skin. There’s nothing left of his barbaric claim on you; he’s got nothing on you anymore.”
To a civilian, I can see how things would look, but to someone from this world, it just is what it is.
And if there was a scar oranyevidence of the tattoo, Guerilla might still have something to insist I was his old lady.
