That word became the center of me for a while.
Build the business.
Build the degree.
Build the relationship.
Build a life.
A life that did not have Destiny in it.
I told myself that last part often enough that it almost sounded like truth.
Then Daniel Ducati came along.
I heard his name from Regan first.
Not directly. Regan never handed me knives unless she wanted to see whether I would cut myself. She mentioned himduring a call with Callum while I was close enough to hear and far enough away to pretend I wasn’t listening.
“Destiny’s been spending time with someone from the medical program,” Regan said.
My hand froze on the wrench I was holding.
Callum’s eyes moved to me for one second.
Then away.
“Good kid?” he asked.
“Seems like it. Daniel Ducati. Med school track. Family is clean. Polished. Annoyingly handsome, according to Lily.”
Nate, who had been sitting nearby eating chips like the clubhouse was a theater and my life was entertainment, turned slowly toward me.
I kept my face blank.
Inside, something ugly opened one eye.
Ducati.
Of course his last name was Ducati.
The universe had jokes.
I waited exactly four hours before Googling him.
That was restraint.
Daniel Ducati was not a villain.
That pissed me off.
I wanted him to be smug. Wanted him to have a DUI, a cheating scandal, a mean streak, something I could point to and say, See? Bad idea. Not good enough. Keep him away from her.
But the bastard was clean.
Worse than clean.
Good.
