"Jesus," I breathed.
"It was bad. Their parents were called in, mine were too. I wanted to go home—"
"Of course you did."
"Dad wouldn't let me. Said it was a character building exercise."
"Fuck."
He hummed. "I only remembered that when I talked to that counselor." His brow puckered. "I've hated small spaces ever since. The water too. Swimming was always hell for me. But being in elevators was even worse. I remembered the canoe thing, just not what Dad said afterward."
"I really want to break his nose."
Micah cut me a look. "You want to break my dad's nose?" At my growl of assent, he snickered. "I'd love to see that."
"Then shift your arse," I retorted, "we're at the right place for the shit to hit the fan."
His smile died as he reached out and covered my hand with his. "Neither of them called even though they had to have heard about Rhode."
I bit the inside of my cheek as anger pummeled me. "I know."
"They were quite happy to throw me to the wolves, because they knew I would never be granted Financial Aid."
"I know."
He blinked. "They don't deserve me."
"No," I agreed softly. "They don't."
His smile blossomed out of nowhere, and though I expected him to unfasten his seatbelt and to get out of the car, he didn't.
Instead, he turned on the ignition, pressed the button that let the roof retract, and put the car into drive. For a second, I could have sworn he was about to drive into the front of the house, but he didn't. He went close, though. Close enough for me to jerk in surprise, before he pulled into reverse and started the ride back to the hotel.
“Are you sure you want to leave without seeing them?” I asked, noticing the gates were wide open, as if George was waiting for us to leave.
“I’m positive,” he confirmed, then, when we were outside the drive, and the gates pulled inward, he braked, and leaned over the center console.
Knowing what he was doing, I pushed into him, and pressing my lips to his, I let him own this moment as he kissed me. Gently.
With love.
With feeling.
All in full view of the cameras that were mounted onto the walls either side of the drive.
“You’re the only family I need,” he whispered, and those words, more than anything else, resonated with me.
I pressed my hand to his knee as he started the car again, and laughed when he raised his arm and flipped the bird at the gate before he got us the hell out of there.
Epilogue
Micah
Two years later
“Goddamn bitch,” Devlin snarled, and I watched him, storming from one side of the room to the other, his rage spewing from his pores as he moved. Jesus, the man was like poetry in motion.
For a second, I was more interested in that than why he was angry.
Two years with him, and I still felt like he could snatch the air from my lungs. I knew he felt the same too, because, every now and then, he’d look at me and sigh.
I knew how the Mona Lisa felt, but I didn’t mind being treated like a world class painting when he’d break that sigh, move into me, and would kiss me like today was our last day.
Life was good.
Even if this was a little blip on the radar.
I’d finally earned my MBA, and Devlin had accepted that he could take a step back without the company floundering—that meant he only worked sixty hours a week now and not eighty.
I considered it a major win.
On top of that, Devlin had decided that the only way Astley Publishing was going to sit up and evolve from this was—and I still couldn’t quite get over it—for me to sue them.
That case I’d won, and my bank account now bulged but it wouldn’t for long. I’d already donated five million to foundations that gave back to people who were exactly like me—waiting on a justice system that would always fail them.
As a result of the civil suit which I’d won eighteen months ago, Astley Publishing had gone through a major revamp, with the executives being fired, and the HR department being made to go through training to ensure what had happened with Rhode and Robert Llewelyn could never, and would never, go down again. On top of that, more staff had been hired to offset the too-long working hours that made each day a struggle, and encouraged antagonistic behavior between employees.
All those changes were because of me.
He’d worked hard for me.
But we’d lost this, and I knew it would hit him worse than it would me, simply because he cared so much.
“We knew it was a possibility,” I told him softly.
His face screwed up with his disgust. “Goddamn jury tampering, evidence fixing—and we were the ones accused of falsifying that video footage! I swear, I’ll sue the state. This isn’t the end of it.”
“Her rep is like mud. No one will hire her,” I tried to comfort him.
But there was little comfort to be found because today’s ‘Not Guilty’ saw a sexual predator roaming the streets once more. Nothing about that was right or just.
“Like she’s short on cash. Her family just bought this case for her,” he snarled, shoving his hands through his hair like he could tug it out at the roots.
A movement in the doorway caught my attention, but I quickly shooed my hands at her as Clarice popped her head around the door to see what was happening.
She pulled a face, but retreated quickly—who could blame her? Devlin in a temper was a ferocious thing to behold. Sexy too. Well, it was if you weren’t related to him.
Clarice and Harold had been staying with us while he underwent some radical therapy. I wasn’t certain if Harold was holding on simply to make sure he’d live long enough for us to get a surrogate, or if he was just as stubborn as Devlin promised all Astleys were.
Either way, his temper was already volatile as a result of their staying with us. It didn’t matter that they had one end of our home in the Hamptons and we had the other—Devlin required a city between them.
I wasn’t even sure if that was enough, because while we’d taken to staying at the Park Avenue apartment to stop him from strangling his father, the threat of madness still lingered in his eyes when Harold stayed here with us on his treatment days and spoke about his favorite subject—heirs and spares.
It was getting to be a bit like a terrible song on repeat, but for whatever reason, I could tune it out where Devlin just couldn’t.
“Devlin?” I asked softly, touched that he was so angry, loving him for his bitterness on my behalf.
He scowled at me. “It isn’t fucking fair. I knew I should have bribed the judge. She clearly did.”
“We’ll work something out.”
“What? Tell me how we can make this better.
“Poor Lizzie, Robert’s poor family. Christ. How they’re going to deal with this is beyond me. Their settlement was more blood money. Not the justice I promised them.” Yes, he’d instigated a suit on the Llewelyn family’s behalf too. Not just for me.
How couldn’t I love this man when it was so fucking easy?
He rubbed his brow, his shoulders wriggling in that way I knew meant a migraine was incoming, and spying that, I got to my feet so I could go and rub them for him.