Quinn wouldn’t dare. She knows enough about the threat these men pose to reach out to them. And my father… he and I have only just started rebuilding our relationship. He’s still barely gaining his footing when it comes to courage.
“Raffael.” Bishop snaps the book closed and slides it back into place on the shelf. “It took a lot of convincing but he’s a determined little fucker.”
I take the hit with a raise of my chin.
So this is Raffael’s latest attempt to skirt the rules of disengagement? First the flowers and the client referrals. Then the keepsakes. The necklace.La mia rovina.
It has to stop. I need to cut him from my life entirely, because the slightly ajar door has me wanting to slip back through it every second of the day.
“Understood.” I incline my head. “The agreement is dead and buried. Is that all?”
Bishop strides toward the chair beside Matthew and grabs the backrest. “You’ve just been cut loose from the noose around your neck and ‘is that all’ is your response?”
“I’m sorry.” I paste on a fake smile. “Were you expecting me to gush with appreciation over something that almost destroyed my life?”
His smirk deepens. “I like you, Isla.”
“That’s not the compliment you think it is,” I deadpan.
He chuckles and makes for the door. “Duly noted.” He strolls from the room and down the hall as if he owns the place, leaving me with Raffael’s cousin.
“You’re free to do whatever you like to the Cavallo Group. Cut ties. Burn bridges. Make enemies.” Matthew unfurls from the chair, rising and towering over my desk. “Although, I’d go easy on them, seeing as though they cut themselves out of millions to grant you and your father freedom.”
My heart pangs. I ignore it.
His eyes narrow. “You understand my cousin would do anything for you, right?”
I want to snap a denial. Refute the pain that lodges itself in my throat.
“Yeah, I thought so.” His expression softens as he inclines his head in farewell. “Until next time…”
He turns for the door, moving with a quiet, confident dominance too painfully reminiscent of another man who shall not be named.
I grip the edge of my desk, my pulse climbing instead of calming, a rush of anxiety surging through me.
“Wait.” The demand slips free.
Matthew pauses at the threshold, a questioning brow raised as he meets my gaze over his shoulder.
I gnaw my bottom lip, damning my curiosity to hell. “What doesla mia rovinamean?”
His smile is slow and knowing, a lazy, pitying expression that makes me regret the question. “It means my downfall. My ruin.”
He offers the translation in a low murmur, but it’s as if he’s pulled the pin on a grenade I didn’t know he was holding.
“He’s a good man, Isla. He deserves a second chance.”
“I appreciate the endorsement.” I force the sarcasm past the lump in my throat. “You have no idea what it means coming from someone like you.”
He snickers and disappears through the doorway. “I expect an invitation to the wedding.”
Chapter
Thirty-Six
ISLA
Two months later
