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314 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 30, 2021
“Gemma West, the princess with daddy issues. How’s he looking, these days? A little ashen?”
She shoves off the wall and punches him in the throat. He didn’t see that one coming, I’d bet. He chokes, gargling, and she glares at him while returning to her position. Her eyes flick to mine, and she offers me a glare, as well.
I can interpret it to mean, You said not to talk, and I didn’t.
I smirk.
“You’re off to a good start,” I tell Rubert. “Pissing off a West... and a
DeSantis. How’s that working for you?”
Dad has had far too long to control his reactions, but Aiden... Aiden’s never had me.
There’s pain in her eyes, and I’ve never wanted to be a DeSantis less than I do right now.
I sniffle. Dad... Dad never conspired with me to save the family—he conspired with Aiden freaking DeSantis to save me.
“It’s okay to cry.” He sets one mug in front of me, then sits beside me. He leans his back against the window. “I used to cry. Right after Mom left. In the shower, where my brothers couldn’t hear me.”
Love will destroy us both, but it’s already done. There’s a Gemma-sized hole in my chest.
“I want to be alone,” I say woodenly.
“No.” He faces the television and reaches for the remote. “You want to sulk? Do it here.”
“Even when you infuriate me, I can’t resist you,” he murmurs.
“Gem first,” Aiden demands.
“Did you black out?” the doctor asks him.
“Gemma first.” Aiden slams his hand on the table.
Above the fireplace hangs a painting I commissioned of Gemma—it’s abstract but undeniably her.
Gemma is going to pay for this—because she might need more time to
do whatever the hell she’s doing, and I don’t want her to face my father’s wrath. Just mine.
If the bastard died trying to save me from a non-threat, I’m going to bring him back to life to shoot him myself. Honestly, men and their egos.
But Wilder is alive and well, and I have proof.”
Your job is hard? I’ll show you what’s hard, sweetheart.
We stay locked in our stare-off until his office door opens. Aiden’s lips
press together. Without releasing me, he pulls his gun and points it at the door.
“Leave,” he orders.
“Charming,” Jameson drawls.
“Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” someone drawls.