Page 31 of The Beast

What exactly am I hoping to accomplish here?

My father isn’t going to confess. Even if I walked in with a recording of him ordering the hit, he’d find a way to spin it, deny it, turn it around on me. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s always done.

And confronting him now, before I have any proof, before I have any protection—what does that get me?

Nothing. Worse than nothing.

He’ll know I’m onto him. He’ll know Gabriel told me about the attack. And he’ll start covering his tracks even more carefully than he already has. Any evidence that might still exist will disappear. Any witnesses will be silenced or bought off.

And me? I’ll be exactly where he wants me—under his thumb, dependent on his goodwill.

Most importantly, I’ll lose the casino. My chance at freedom. The gallery.

My father could take all of that away with a phone call. He could tie me up in legal battles for years, drain my resources, and destroy everything I hope to build. He’s done it to business rivals. He’d do it to his own daughter without blinking.

I stop pacing.

I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.

Going to war with Sterling Hart without ammunition is suicide. I know he tried to kill Gabe. I know it in my bones. But knowing isn’t proving. And proving is what I need if I’m ever going to bring him down.

I need evidence. Documentation. Witnesses willing to talk.

I need to get my ducks in a row—protect myself, protect Gabe, protect everything I care about.

And then—only then—can I watch my father burn.

The door to his office opens, and a man in an expensive suit emerges. A moment later, Mina rises from her desk, smoothing her skirt with that practiced grace.

“Your father will see you now,” she says, and there’s a hint of triumph in her voice. Like she’s won something by making me wait.

I look at her. Look at the open door to my father’s office, where I can see him sitting behind his massive desk, backlit by the morning sun like some kind of dark god surveying his kingdom.

I flash Mina my best smile. “Tell him I had to run.”

Mina blinks. “Excuse me?”

“But remind him, please, just in case he’s forgotten, I’m engaged now. And I’ll be taking over his duties come Wednesday, as we agreed. If you haven’t already, it’s time to pack up his personal items. As for anything related to the business…well, he can leave me a memo.” I’m already turning, already walking toward the elevator. “Have a lovely day, Mina.”

I don’t look back. Don’t let myself hesitate or second-guess. I just walk, my heels clicking against the marble floor, my heart racing with something that feels almost like triumph.

For once in my life, I’m not playing his game.

I’m playing my own.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, jabbing the button for the lobby. As the doors close, I catch a glimpse of Mina’s confused, simpering little face.

And even though I have no idea where I’m going, the moment feels like a victory.

Now I just need to decide what to do next.

David? Maybe it’s time to track him down. Or I could grab breakfast—I haven’t eaten a thing today.

But two seconds later, I’ve ditched both those ideas. I know where I want to be. Where I need to be.

La Galerie LaBete.

My gallery. My sanctuary. The place where Chris always has pastries and Gabriel’s art lives. Where I’ve kept his memory alive for five years.

That’s where I need to be right now. Surrounded by the work of the man I love, even if that man currently hates me. Maybe being there will help me think. Help me figure out my next move.

Or maybe I just need to feel close to him, even if it’s only through paint and canvas. I don’t know. All I know is that I need to go, because it’s the one place that’s ever truly felt like mine.

I draw a breath, then push the button for the mezzanine, and look forward to the rest of this day.