Page 37 of Hide Little Traitor

“Fuck.”

“Do you still have a go bag in your car?”

“I can’t leave, Ronan.”

“You have to! If Dad finds out you helped me escape with Chloe, he’ll kill you.”

“He can try.”

Ronan runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re not listening! They have evidence. It’s only a matter of time before they find a smoking gun. Don’t forget your first kill was our gardener for doing his fucking job. You think he won’t hesitate to kill you just because you’re his son?”

He’s quiet for a beat, but he’s stubborn. If our limited interactions have taught me anything, it’s that he doesn’t like to be proven wrong or to be beaten, and leaving now would be admitting defeat, something I doubt Damon Lombardi has ever done.

There’s a loud knock and he curses. “Don’t bother coming here.”

He ends the call, and Ronan’s phone flies past my head, landing heavily against the side of the jet beside me. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“That’s his prerogative. We’ll hang around Miami for a day or two while I plan our next move, and if he insists on staying, that’s his choice.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he stalks toward the back of the plane where the bedroom is.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

The sooner we find Chloe, the sooner I’m free of all these damn Lombardis.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KINGSTON

NOW

Iknew getting Chloe to agree to marry me would be an uphill battle, but I’m growing more and more impatient by the day.

When she walked out of my bedroom this morning telling me in no uncertain terms that she would not be marrying me, I was as impressed by her strength as I was irritated.

I’ve built an entire empire for her, a life where she can be safe and happy, and she can have anything her heart desires, and yet she still says no to me?

I drag my hand down my face and flick between camera feeds.

She’s been restless this morning, likely for the same reason I am, pacing from room to room, searching for something to occupy her mind.

I’m fortunate that my obsession with her is so strong I always have something to do when she’s in this house because there isn’t an inch of the place that isn’t covered in cameras.

There are a million things I should be doing, but after living without her for so many years, I can’t tear my eyes off the screen.

I had eyes on her as often as I could over the years, but unsurprisingly, John De Marco didn’t approve of me installing surveillance equipment throughout his home.

Chloe moves through her bedroom, pacing back and forth for a few minutes before stepping into the bathroom.

I flick to one of the most questionable feeds before I can talk myself out of it.

The part of me that wants to give her privacy wars with the part that can’t bear to have my eyes off her.

I watch as she strips out of the lounge set I had my hands on just hours ago, and I long to touch every inch of soft skin she uncovers.

Tearing my hands from her this morning was almost impossible, but it was necessary.

If she won’t agree to marry me on her own, I’m going to have to get creative.