Page 105 of Sinful Bride

"Where did you take her?"

He swallows hard. "I can't… the app has privacy rules. I'm not supposed to⁠—"

I pull my gun and press it against his kneecap. "Where. Did. You. Take. Her?"

"Jesus Christ!" He's shaking now, tears streaming down his face. "Okay! Okay! I took her to this big estate on the lake. She told me to drop her at the gate. He rattles off part of the address, his mouth shaking, but I already know where she went.

The Capetti estate.

I lower the gun but don't holster it. "Did she say anything? Make any calls?"

"No. Nothing. She just sat in the back and stared out the window. Looked like she'd been crying." He's babbling now, desperate to give me what I want. "When we got there, she thanked me and got out. That's it. I swear."

I believe him. He's too terrified to lie. "Let him go," I tell Cormac. "Give him five hundred dollars and tell him to forget this happened."

"Boss—"

"Do it."

I'm already walking back to my car, my mind racing. Elena went to her father. Either she's working with him, or she went to confront him. Either way, she's there now. And I have no fucking idea what to do about it.

—

Lachlan is waiting at my penthouse when I get back. He's sitting in my living room like he owns the place, a glass of my whiskey in his hand, looking completely at ease. "Declan." He stands when I walk in. "We need to talk."

"Not now." I head straight for my office, but he follows.

"Yes, now." His voice is firm. "Sit down."

"Lachlan—"

"Sit down, Declan."

I sit. Not because he told me to, but because my legs suddenly feel unsteady.

Lachlan closes the office door and leans against it, arms crossed. "Elena's gone," he says. It's not a question.

"How did you⁠—"

"Finn called me. He's worried about you." Lachlan's eyes are steady on mine. "So am I."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're about to do something stupid." He moves to the chair across from my desk and sits. "So before you do, I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly."

I don't respond.

"Do you love her?"

I feel like the air leaves my lungs. I open my mouth to deny it, to say something dismissive, but the words won't come. Because the answer is yes.

Yes, I love her.

I love the way she stood up to me from the beginning, refusing to be intimidated. I love her sharp tongue and her sharper mind. I love the vulnerability she showed me after the warehouse attack, the way she let me see her fear and let me show her mine. I love the way she feels in my arms, the sounds she makes when I touch her, the way she looks at me like I'm something more than just an upstart trying to prove himself.

I love her.

And she betrayed me.