"I know you sold Luke, Dad."
"That fucking shit."
"He didn't do anything with Lyndall. I believe her."
Dad's silent, then he says, "It's not her I don't trust. It's him. She's a child. A man of eighteen should not be in her room. And certainly not one in my employ. I'm sure he'll be dead soon."
"No, Dad. He won't. And he'll remain alive and well. I organized it, devised it."
Dad is silent again. For a few seconds. Then he says, "You're now in charge."
"For the time being."
Dad neither confirms nor denies.
"Just know you're playing with fire if you let that asshole Luke back near Lyndall."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
LOLA
I think I'm happy.Obviously, I know I am, there's a smile that keeps popping up and a lightness to my step and heart, but I don't mean that.
I mean the bone-deep, peaceful happiness. The thing that gives me hope I might really have a future with Enzo.
He seems okay with me going to work, and he's gotten exclusive shops booked for after-hour private sprees.
Enzo likes sprees, which is strange. I know his house is state-of-the-art in terms of security, now ratcheted up to Fort Knox standards, but while he has gorgeous suits, I see them for what they are—costumes.
What he wears when he needs to go out into the world as a businessman, someone at the top who's successful and powerful.
The other times, he wears jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters. He's got a few favored hoodies.
Not like how I see Cade dress. For Cade, black with a black hoodie is what he wears. His uniform.
But even so, for all his flash, personality, and moneyed background, Enzo isn't a man who tends to shop like that ona scale. He doesn't get clothes, he orders them delivered, and his walk-in closet is half empty.
He really is a hacker at heart. A tech guy who's got style.
So, when he shuts down some clothing stores, including one for moms-to-be, he insists on buying everything I ooh and ahh over—the things that make me light up inside.
I've pretty much moved into his suite, as mine is full of boxes and bags I haven't opened yet.
Lyndall yawns and just says he's a giver. He has bought her a lot of stuff for her violin. He got her old one fixed by a master, so it sounds even better than it originally did.
Best of all, he doesn't hover at work. In the past week, he comes in when he comes in, but he doesn't text to check in at all. And he listens when I talk.
But is it best, though?
I don't know.
He's giving me everything I asked for, everything I wanted. The space, the time, the freedom.
But...
I miss how things used to be. Miss who he used to be.
Miss it all.
