“You’re coming home with me.” My heart stutters. “Home?” “To London. You and your father.” I shake my head, feeling breathless. “I can’t.” “To wherever you want then. Anywhere but this fucking coast. New York? You seem like the kind of girl that likes New York.” “We can’t leave the Coast, Angelo.” A venomous hiss escapes his lips as he slides his hand around the nape of my neck and grips me there. “All right, so you like nature. Christ, Rory. There’s nature everywhere. I’ll buy you land. I’ll buy you a whole fucking island, if you want.” “You don’t understand I can’t leave the Preserve—”
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