Chapter 31 The hospital is vibing today, and not in a good way. I'm glad I'm done for the day and wave goodbye to my preceptor as I head out the ambulance bay doors. My head is spinning in too many directions after seeing the tail end of a horrible trauma. This is why I don't like the ER. It's so tough. Which is likely why I don't notice the man standing in my path until I nearly run directly into him. Dark eyes, long dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail, dark suit, and hardened thug look. I stop short and instinctively take two steps back. There's no question he's here for me. I know he is. It's not even the way he's staring at me. "Is my mother dead?" I ask before I can stop the words from slipping past my lips. It's the only thing I can think of for why one of my father's goons would be here. "No. She's fine. For now." I squint at him for that last bit. "You're new. Did my father kill off his last henchman already?" His gaze shifts around to see if anyone overheard, but fuck him and fuck his threats. I scoff and roll my eyes. "What do you want? Why did he send you?" "We know you're living with Vander Moore." Ice slithers through my veins, freezing me over. Shit. Why didn't I think my father would know that? I never should have moved in with Vander. When I got together with Mattia, he pulled something similar. It got worse after we moved to Boston and I had Hazel. That was the last time one of his men paid me a visit. Part of me even wondered if that's why Mattia left. If one of my father's men threatened him somehow and he fled. "I got the shit beat out of me in my neighborhood, and he offered Hazel and me his third floor until I can afford something better. He's my boss and was trying to help out the little sister of his former friend." "He's also your former boyfriend." Bile shoots up the back of my throat as horror seizes my muscles. How could they know that? Only his parents and his Boston friends knew about us. I hid it from everyone. We hid it from everyone. Clearly not well, though. Fuck! "It's not like that," I defend ardently. "We're not even friends." "For his sake and Hazel's, I hope not." My throat tightens. "You don't get to say her name." "Rumor has it he used to hack things he shouldn't." Jesus Christ. That's what this is. My father's afraid Vander will hack him and learn all his dirty secrets. Especially if I open my mouth about them. I snort sardonically. "I think you need to increase your intel there, Fredo." He tilts his head. "Fredo?" "The dumb one from The Godfather. That's you. There's no way Vander does that. Other than owning the company, it doesn't seem like he knows all that much about computers. The other day one of the cybersecurity guys had to talk him through something for a client because he didn't understand it. He's a math nerd, not a hacker." That's a lie. I have no doubt Vander used to hack things he shouldn't and still does. He stares me down, trying to detect my level of bullshit, and I hold fast and firm. No blushing or even a twitch this time. Because not only does Hazel's life depend on it, evidently Vander's does too. Finally, he gives me a firm nod. "I take it I don't have to tell you to keep your mouth shut." Asshole. "You mean the way I have for the last eight years? He doesn't have to renew his threats. They live rent-free in my head along with his crimes. Bye now. And if I see you near my daughter, I will cut out your liver and watch you bleed to death." I start to walk past him, only to flip around. "And you can tell my father that when the bitch named Death finally comes for him, I hope she makes it as painful as possible." I flip him off and get the hell out of here, moving straight into a jog and heading up the steps to get to the T. The doors close and the train moves, and I blow out breath after breath, willing my panic attack to subside. I pull up the daycare's app on my phone and watch Hazel play dolls in her classroom with another girl. She's safe. For the moment, she's safe. But she won't be until my father dies. Nor will I or my mother, but now I've brought Vander into this. My parents never liked him, and that was only when he was friends with Cassian. Ironic too since they thought Vander was a bad influence on my brother. Except my father is the one who had Cassian-his own fucking son-killed. Coward couldn't even do it himself. Cassian didn't fall or jump from the fourth floor of that construction site, and he wasn't drunk either. It breaks my heart that Vander blames himself, but more times than I can count over the years, I'm grateful he wasn't there when he was supposed to be because otherwise he'd be dead too. But with that, I also know my father's threats aren't idle. He will kill my mother, and he will kill me and Hazel. And he'll do it all in cold blood without even breaking a sweat or a moment's remorse. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Findηovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. By the time I get to work, I'm in no better shape than I was when I got on the T. I don't go to the daycare. If I see Hazel, I'll want to grab her and run. Instead, I go upstairs and into the bathroom to change into one of the ridiculous outfits Vander bought me. I have to smile and talk about cybersecurity for the next hour in a meeting. I slip into the dress and heels, but I can't shake it. It's all too much, and despite my best efforts, my emotions get the better of me, and the insipid tears start. One after the other, they won't stop, and taking in my reflection in the bathroom mirror isn't helping to slow them, or the way I'm starting to hyperventilate. I turn on the faucet to splash cold water on my face just as the door opens and freaking Alesha, of all people, walks in. She stops short when she sees me, our gazes clashing in the reflection of the mirror before I lower my face back toward the running water. She steps toward me, and I shake my head, hoping to stop her. I can't do this with her. I don't have any mean in me, and my protective barrier is close to none. But she shocks me with, "Are you okay?" I emit a humorless laugh. "I'll be fine." Because that's my standard answer. It's been my answer for the last ten years since Cassian died and my life began unraveling at the seams. I'll be fine because I have no choice but to be. "But you're not right now." I sigh and twist my neck to look at her. "No. I'm not right now, so please don't take any shots at me." She frowns and places her hand on my shoulder. "Can I do anything? Get anyone for you?" I blink at her, at her sincerity, and slowly shake my head, unable to form words. "Okay. But if you change your mind, I'll be in that stall." She points to the middle one and leaves me here to wash my face in peace. I'm too shocked to respond, so I do my thing while she does hers. "Wear the red lipstick," she calls out as the toilet flushes. "No one can fuck with you when you're wearing that. It'll help." I take in my puffy, red eyes and flushed cheeks. I look like hell. But fuck it. "Good call. And thank you, Alesha." "I'm sorry if I've been a bitch. I don't do jealousy well, but I'm over it and I hope we can be too." "Thanks. I'd like that." I leave the bathroom before she comes out of the stall and head for my office to find my small cosmetics bag I keep here to attack my face with everything I've got. I don't typically wear makeup to clinical, but here in the office, I like to. My office feels like a respite. Like a sanctuary I can take a moment to get my shit back together in without an audience, except I'm once again proven wrong with that. "Knock, knock," Champagne chirps, and I spin around, giving her my back. Fuck. I needed these five minutes to cool down and a lot more time with the concealer. "Oh, honey." My head shakes violently. "I'm fine." Why does someone catching you after you cry make you start crying again? "You don't look fine. I saw your face before you spun around." "Please don't." It's a gasped plea. Two arms meet my shoulders and spin me around. Suddenly I'm face-deep in the wonderful and comforting embrace of Champagne. "Tell me." She rubs my back, and I can't stop it now. I don't remember the last time a motherly figure hugged me like this. I've been lost and lonely and alone for so long. Then I had this weekend. And it was perfect. A dream. I allowed myself to be happy for one blissfully content moment, and now it's all over, and not only am I freaking terrified, I'm heartbroken. "I can't." I grip her back. "I'm not being evasive. I really can't." "Are you and your girl safe?" I break down even more, and she hugs me tighter. "You have to tell him. I know you're living with him, and I'm glad for it. But he can help you." "I can't. I can't. They'll..." I trail off. I shouldn't have even said that word. "I'm not telling you this. You never heard me speak. I'm not even here. But I have a house in South Carolina. It was my great-great-grandmother's. It's old as sin, but it's the safest, most comforting place you'll ever be." "Then I hope that's where you plan to live all of your days." "Honey. What can I do?" "This. This is so much more than I've had in years." "What's all this?" Vander's voice snaps like a whip, and I jerk back and flee to the window like a scared little girl, keeping my face averted as I hastily and pathetically try to wipe my face. "She's heartbroken I'm retiring on Friday and leaving her with your sorry ass." I choke out a laugh. This is why I love Champagne like few others. Vander grunts and the sound has me twisting slightly to catch his profile as he pushes up the bridge of his glasses. I wish he weren't wearing those. He's unbelievably sexy in them. I wasn't lying when I told him that. "Why are you crying?" he asks me, and I swallow about a million times before I face him. I pan my hand toward Champagne. "What she said. I hate you and I hate that you're my boss, and after my next paycheck, I might hire people to kill you in your sleep." Jesus. I can't believe I just said that. Of all the things to say. A sob chokes in the back of my throat. "Good stuff. Tell them to use the back entrance of my house. There's a blind spot in my cameras I haven't yet fixed." "Right. I'll do that." And make sure he gets that blind spot fixed ASAP. There's a long pause, but I can't meet his eyes. "We've got a meeting to get to, and you need to approve the lunch menu for Friday that'll go with the champagne I ordered." "You got me champagne?!" Now I think Champagne is going to cry. Vander chuckles. "Your name is Champagne. Did you honestly think I wouldn't get you the best there is?" I sniffle back tears. How is he this man? This fuck you, I hate you, you're not nearly as smart as I am, you will never know anything about me that I don't want you to man, and then he's that. The guy who buys the best champagne for his Champagne. The man who broke the bones of the person who hurt me and scared my little girl, and then moved us into his home, tells us we're safe and takes care of my little girl when she's sick and bakes cookies with her and makes her fucking Mickey Mouse pancakes and gets me goddamn turkey bacon because he remembered I don't eat pork. "Sounds fabulous. I'll be there when I'm ready." I smile and finish wiping my face because if Champagne can be that, so can I. I look up, and instantly, Vander frowns. Okay. So maybe those red lips weren't selling much. "I'm ready for the meeting." Cue my bright smile. It's dazzling. It's the goddamn top of the Empire State Building, and we're in Boston. So maybe the top of the Prudential Tower? I don't know. I think I'm starting to lose it. "Great." Champagne beams at me. "Let's go. And if you need tampons, they're in my desk." "Tampons?" Vander's frown deepens. "Yes!" I exclaim way too loudly. "That's why I'm so emotional. I have my period." Vander's gaze swings back to Champagne. "You don't have tampons in your desk. You went through menopause six years ago. I know because you were always complaining about your hot flashes, and I kept the office at sixty degrees for two years." "Vander Moore, never question what personal items a woman has in her desk. If I say I have tampons in there, I have tampons in there." Vander isn't appeased. Champagne leads the charge, and I follow after her, but the second I reach the doorway, he grasps my wrist, and I know there'll be no getting away from him now.