I lean back in my chair and stare at the picture of Aurora and me sitting on my desk.
My mother took it on our second day in Saint-Tropez. We were on the beach, and we looked so happy and in love.
There was no confusion in our faces as we smiled back at the camera. Even if we didn’t know it, love was already there. Only love.
I had the picture framed when I got home, and I thought it would look good in here, so I put it right next to my computer.
This office has always looked as businesslike as the one at Grayson Inc. I
wanted to add a touch of humanity to give it some life. It was very
unbecoming of me, but I did it anyway because of how I felt about Aurora.
Now this vision of us is just a dream. There one minute, gone the next, only existing in memories.
It’s been three days since everything went to fucking hell.
On that day, I watched my life—the dream one I created with my wife—blow up in my face like a nuclear bomb, and it just kept going and going and going, turning to shit before my eyes.
There wasn’t a damn thing I could have done to stop it from happening because I was too late.
But my lateness didn’t happen on that day.
I was too late from the moment I realized I loved Aurora and loving her meant I needed to fix the mess I created if I wanted to keep her in my life.
The moment I lost my girl—in that split second as I watched Bastian unleash the truth—I realized the choices I had were always easy. Because … there was no choice when it came to Aurora.
There was no either or.
There was always just her.
I was so caught up in my past and the horrendous relationship with my father and Bastian that I wasn’t thinking about what mattered most.
All I can do now is throw myself into damage control, in which I’ve enlisted Jericho’s help.
Fuck knows what Bastian might be conjuring. I’m sure Aurora took note that the asshole made a point of telling her the evidence he brought was her copy and there was more where it came from.
Meaning she needed to watch her back. He made that threat to my wife right in front of me because he knew I couldn’t do shit about anything.
Not to him and not about the bomb he’d dropped on Aurora.
She doesn’t want to see me or speak to me. I must have called her at least a million times over the last few days. On the hour, every hour. Each time, the call goes straight to voicemail. I’ve sent text messages too. All to no avail.
What we said to each other in those final moments was it—the breakup.
She’s staying with her father now. She went straight to him that day.
I’ve spoken to him only to assure him that I’ll do my best to make sure Bastian doesn’t put him or Aurora in danger.
William didn’t sound hopeful or like he believed I’d care enough to honor any such promise. I can’t blame him.
I created this mess. It was borne out of my own greed.
I can’t blame Aurora either for not wanting to have anything to do with me.
Even when she finds out I’m not going to sell Sunset Cove.
It will be quite the shock to my grandfather too, who has no inkling of what’s happened between Bastian and me.
I postponed the meeting with Vladimir until next week, but hopefully, before then, I’ll let him know I won’t be selling.
Before the week is out, I’m hoping to have the documentation that will remove my name from the ownership of Sunset Cove. And from Aurora’s life.
I’ve come to the decision that I need to let her go.
She said herself, that she wished she’d never met me.
I wish that too.
What I did to her, and her father for the matter, was truly, truly despicable. And that’s putting it mildly.
When Bastian brought up the past with Giselle and threw the dirt at me, I was more than ashamed of myself. I’m sure even Giselle was ashamed of me.
I hated that Bastian knew what I did during that time. When I told Aurora what happened to Giselle, I purposely left out specific parts that hurt me the most.
At the time I gave Giselle my kidney, I thought I’d found a way to keep her alive. The doctors had said that people with Huntington’s could live for up to twenty years after the start of their symptoms, but she was at the stage where her lupus was making her kidneys fail.
Twenty years was worth it to me, so I gave her a piece of me. But it didn’t work.
All I got was another two years before her body began to reject my kidney, then she deteriorated and was given a year to live.
After that everything was all wrong. Especially me.
I always felt guilty for showing my grief around her because she was in so much pain.
At times, I’ve felt that if I’d put on a braver face, she might not have killed herself. I know that’s not true, but it never stopped me from thinking it.
Now I’ve lost another love, this one different from any other. Even Giselle.
I never thought that could be possible, and my acknowledgment of that doesn’t take anything away from what I had with Giselle.
It’s shown me that true love is a never-ending entity, and you’re more than fortunate to find it once, let alone twice.
Especially for someone like me who came from a broken home.
When I first met Aurora, I might have appeared to be still holding on to Giselle, but I wasn’t. What held me back was seeing something in her that I wanted and was scared to have. I knew if I wanted it I’d have to bare my soul and leave myself as vulnerable as I had in the past.
What I saw in Aurora was happiness and a future that didn’t see me in the dark.
So many things banded together to create the monster in me, but Aurora unraveled each one and released the man inside who just wanted to live.
She was a wild card I never saw coming.
But … in my heart, I know she’s better off without me.
A snake can’t be anything other than a snake, even if it tries not to be, but an angel will always be an angel. That’s her.
She always deserved better, so this is me loving her enough to let her go and live in a world where she can have everything in it that’s good.
Good isn’t me.
My thoughts snap when the door opens and Jericho walks in.
His expression is more relaxed than at work earlier. Seeing him gives me strength, but the envelope he’s carrying gives me hope.
“I got something for you.” He walks up to the desk.
I pray that something is what I need to stop Bastian in his tracks.
“Just tell me we got Bastian.”
Outside of keeping a close eye on Bastian, finding good dirt on him was all I could do in this situation to fight fire with fire. You can’t threaten fuckers like Bastian without holding an axe over his head.
“Believe me, we’ve got his fucking ass right where we need it to be.” The smile on Jericho’s face clears my worries like a summer breeze blowing in on a fog.
“What have you got?” I sit straighter, the anticipation pumping me full of adrenaline.
“This.” Jericho pulls out a picture from the envelope. It’s of Bastian at the beach with a topless girl sitting on his lap. I don’t know who she is, but if Jericho thinks this is dirt, it’s serious shit that will fuck Bastian over.
“Who’s the girl?”
Jericho gives me an I’m-the-real-shit smile. “Teddy Jamison’s seventeen-year-old daughter.”
“Holy fucking shit.” My scalp tightens, all my nerves buzzing with this information.
Teddy Jamison is the fucking governor of New York. Not only would Bastian be looking at jail time for being with a minor, but he’d be skinned alive for going anywhere near Teddy’s daughter.
That man is overprotective of his entire family. Bastian would be obliterated if this ever got out.
“Want more to back that up?” Jericho pulls out a USB stick from his pocket. “How about a sex tape?”
My jaw drops. “No way.”
He smiles wide. “Yes. You should know by now I’m a very dangerous man.”
I already knew that. It’s the lengths he goes to that intrigue me the most, and if I’m being honest, it’s a little scary.
There’s nothing on paper or recorded that he can’t find, and even then.
“Jesus, Jericho, how did you get this?”
“I have my ways.” His smile spreads to the corners of his lips. “And I take pleasure in saying that Bastian makes me look like a saint.”
“He definitely does. Thanks for doing this.”
“Always, brother.” He takes a well-deserved bow and raises his brows when he sees me standing. “What next?”
“I need to sort this out now.” I can’t afford to waste any more time. “Bastian will be at the Astoria for the usual meetup.”
“I’ll come with you. I definitely need to see this.”
“Let’s go.” Fueled with wrath, I march out of my office like I’m heading into battle. I might have lost everything else, but this will be a win for me.
Bastian is standing by the pool table with a bunch of his asshole friends.
He’s smoking a cigar and talking shit as usual. Next to him is tonight’s brunette. At least she looks to be in her mid-to-late twenties.
Our father is sitting in the corner of the room with one of his associates.
Bastian and Father notice Jericho and me straight away when we walk in, and the speed in which we’re moving.
They know we’re there for trouble.
I keep my head straight, my eyes fixed on Bastian as I walk.
Amusement fills his eyes for a fleeting second, but then it disappears.
“Coming for another round? Shouldn’t you be groveling at your wife’s feet or something?” Bastian speaks out loud for his audience.
I answer by grabbing his throat. Shock steals the blood from his face along with his confidence, and it takes him a second before he tries to break free.
Jericho grabs Bastian’s arms and secures them behind him, cutting off his escape attempt. Then he puts him in a lock that allows us to push him backward, moving with him across the room.
We go into the next room, which is a little boardroom. Of course, Father Dearest has joined us by now to make sure we don’t kill his precious son.
“What the fuck are the two of you doing?” Father shouts, but I ignore him.
Jericho releases Bastian, but I keep my hand around his neck, so I can shove him against the wall.
“Jericho, close the door,” I order.
When the door swings shut, I squeeze Bastian’s throat tighter.
As he gasps and splutters, Father rushes up to me and grabs my arm.
I look at him. The coldness in my eyes should tell him I don’t care anymore. I think he can see it because he loosens his grip on me.
This is the third time in my life that my father has touched me. The first was to physically pick me up and throw me out of his house and into the street when I was ten years old. The second was to stop me from killing Bastian years ago when we had that fight. Now here we are again.
“Let him go, Knight.” His voice shakes like that of an old man about to take his last breath.
“Get your hand off me. Now.” I keep my eyes riveted to his until he releases me, doing as he’s told, then I look back at Bastian and loosen my hand to allow him some air.
“You’re fucking insane,” Bastian coughs.
“As you live and breathe. Do. Not. Come. For. Me. Ever again.” My voice rises with every word. “Don’t fucking do it, and don’t you ever, ever dare go near my wife again, or speak to her.” The venom and power in my voice keep him in place, showing him I’m serious as fuck. “Do you understand me?”
The fool smiles, still thinking he has the upper hand, even though I practically have him by the balls. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands of me.”
I return the smile, but I know I look like a psycho. “Oh no, mon frere. It’s you who isn’t in any position to make demands.”
I pull out the picture of him and Teddy Jamison’s daughter from the inside of my pocket and shove it in his face.
The instant he sees it, his skin turns alabaster pale and his eyes become dark pools of shock.
“How did you…” His voice cuts out like a wire being short-circuited.
“What is that?” Father demands.
I hand him the picture, and clearly, he must know who Teddy’s daughter is because he turns as pale as Bastian.
“You fool.” Father shakes his head at him. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him show such disdain toward Bastian. I might have to write it in my memoirs.
“We also have a recording of Bastian having sex with her,” I inform them both.
Bastian attempts to defend himself but stops, knowing whatever he says is going to make him sound like an idiot. He’s been caught red-handed, and there’s no bullshitting his way out of this.
Bastian stiffens. “How did you get this information?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just know there’s more where that came from, but this is your copy to keep.” I borrow the words he threw at Aurora. “Answer my questions and agree to my demands, and this stays between us.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Who have you spoken to about Aurora’s father?”
His jaw tenses. “I’m waiting for Giovanni Falcone’s secretary to get back to me with a date for a meeting.”
Fuck, what an asshole. He was really going to put Aurora and her father in danger.
“You’re going to cancel that the moment we’re done here.” I press into his windpipe. “Did you speak to anyone else?”
“Only Father.” He cuts a glance at Father, who glares back at him.
“You’re going to keep it that way and destroy every motherfucking file you have on William. If you as much as breathe a word to anyone about anything, I will destroy you. Got it?”
“Yes,” Bastian answers through gritted teeth.
“I mean it, Bastian. I’m going to fucking destroy your ass, and no one will be able to save you.” I look at Father as I say that because I’m talking about him. “Understand Father?”
“Yes,” he replies in a stiff voice.
“Good.” Oh, how he must loathe the power I hold over him right now.
I release Bastian, wanting to do so much more, but I leave it at that. I won this round, and he lost. They both did.
But I’m still the bigger loser.
I don’t have my wife.
