Page 60 of Inked in Devotion

Theo shrugged. “With how much Margo is charging, it should be.”

“So it was Margo who finalized the arrangements?”

“Yes.”

“It should be quite a coup for her.”

Theo emitted a brief chuckle that ended in a wry, resigned grin.

“You didn’t have to personally deliver this,” I added when he didn’t respond.

Theo frowned. “Why? You’re family. My marriage to Aralina changes nothing between us.”

It was my turn to shrug. I understood now why Theo brought Gage. He didn’t want any uncomfortable discussions, which was fine by me. It was certainly not my place to tell him he was marrying a girl whose brain hadn’t fully developed its prefrontal cortex yet. I knew little about his bitter divorce from his first wife, only that she had accused him of mental abuse. They divorced four years ago.

“You had to do what you had to do to save King Industries.”

“I don’t want it to be awkward between you and Aralina.”

I could feel my facial muscles stretch into a smile that was brittle and forced. “I’ll try my best not to cause any chaos in the markets again.”

“Chloe…”

“Because I did, but I’m not regretting having Sebastian, and Kolya is proving to be a great dad.” He certainly didn’t abandon me in times of crisis.

“Don’t blame yourself. The press blew it out of proportion, creating a scandal where there shouldn’t have been one.” I hated the sympathy on Theo’s face. I wouldn’t exactly call it fake, but I was guessing Theo hated sensational news, preferring a private stage to run his empire. Sympathy was the last thing I needed. The stigma hounding a child of an illicit affair would always mark me, but I refused to let it define my son’s existence. But to be around my newfound family—Theo and Gage—I had to embrace my past.

“It was a minor bump,” Theo added with a brief smile. “Well, Gage and I gotta go. Please call me for anything. I might not respond quickly, but I’ve made sure my staff knows that you’re a priority.”

After Theo and Gage left, I decided to go home early. I needed to hug my boy. Was it too late to just pack up and leave this town until the wedding was over? I certainly wasn’t in the mood to attend one. I checked the date. Wow, three weeks! When I signed a covenant with Margo, she indicated she could pull off the ceremony quickly.

“Was that Theo?” Marena entered my office, carrying a plastic bag of what looked like more tea. I texted her the other day that I’d run out since the thunderstorm. She said it was a special concoction from a friend who sourced the best natural ingredients, and it would take her a few days.

“Yep,” I said. “He delivered the invitation to the wedding.”

Marena walked into the office toward the windows that had a view of the parking lot. “Good optics, too. King Industries CEO visits sister at the women’s shelter with his rarely seen son.”

What? I didn’t even think of the reporters following Theo. Was I so naïve? I rose from my desk to stare outside, and sure enough, I saw Theo and Gage rushing into the back of the limo amidst a sea of press.

“That’s a brilliant move that serves him and refocuses the attention on the purpose of your NGO,” Marena said.

Still, in the little time I’d spent around Theo, I didn’t see him doing this for theater. He’d been an extremely private person who preferred having his more charming brother handle the press.

“Maybe. But wouldn’t he have a few words for them if that was his purpose?” I said. Her suggestion left a distaste in my mouth, so I changed the subject to the tea. “Is that for me?”

“A month's supply,” she said. “Are you doing okay? No trouble with Kolya?”

“Kolya’s been wonderful,” I said, trying not to gush even when I wanted to. After the news broke about Theo and Aralina’s engagement, he tried his best to keep my mind off it. He continued to drop hints of buying a house, and it was exciting to look at properties and dream. “It’s unnerving as well as endearing how he seems to know what I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?” Marena sat in the chair. Okay, she was starting to piss me off. I didn’t invite her to sit, and I was in no mood to be psychoanalyzed.

“This is not a session, is it?” I asked.

“It could be?”

“Am I your guinea pig or something?”

“Or something,” she said dryly. “No, I’m just making sure you’re not being manipulated.”