“So it’s true?” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his suit-clad chest. “You’ve met a man?”
I raise my chin, unwilling to voice a response.
Despite daydreaming about romance, I didn’t let myself truly believe there was a possibility of a relationship until now. Until the moment when my brother could destroy it for me.
“Is he the one who hit you?” he seethes.
All eyes remain on me, the weight of their scrutiny making me nauseous.
“No.” I square my shoulders, raise my chin, and bite back an emotional response. I can’t win this battle unless I focus. “He didn’t hit me.”
“Then who did?”
“I fell.” I use all the conviction I have to continue holding his stare. “I tripped on the sidewalk and stumbled into a brick wall. It’s no big deal.”
Cole shoves aggressively from the table, the legs of his chair screeching across the tile. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” He leans forward, placing clenched fists on either side of his dinner plate.
I don’t react. Don’t move. One badly timed blink and he’ll dig in his heels, demanding to know everything. Not only about Matthew, but about where we met, and why I was there.
He can’t learn about Denver. If he finds out he’ll put a stop to my plans, then I’ll never be able to make amends or prove my loyalty to him.
“Cole,” Anissa warns. “Calm down.”
His nostrils flare as he glares. “Who is he? Tell me his name.”
My heart lodges in my throat. “It wasn’t him.”
“Bullshit.”
I swallow, caught between wanting to scream and needing to crumple. “You think I’d be walking around with the giddy smile Keira mentioned if the man I was interested in hit me?”
“I don’t know, Lay. Especially not when you married a man you didn’t love and watched him fuck around on you for years.”
My face drains of warmth, all the blood seeping from my cheeks.
He knew.
Of course he did. It was stupid to assume otherwise.
I guess it was even more idiotic to assume my brother would care enough to do something about my husband’s indiscretions. But it’s the humiliation that stings. They won’t understand why I ignored the existence of Benji’s mistresses. They’ll assume I have no self-respect.
“Careful,” Luca warns. “Benji isn’t here to defend himself.”
“This isn’t about your brother,” Cole snarls.
My pulse increases, pounding in my throat.
Usually I can understand Cole’s protective nature. I don’t always like it, but there has always been an understanding of why he is the way he is.
Now is different, though. This isn’t merely protection. There’s resentment in the mix. Disgust, too. Both byproducts that stem from the bad decisions I made in the past. Decisions he refuses to stop holding against me.
“Fine.” I speak through clenched teeth. “I was mugged. That’s why I needed to cancel the credit card. My purse was stolen and I got shoved into a wall. I’m not being abused. I haven’t made any more bad choices. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Silence descends before the most out-of-place chuckle carries from outside as the kids remain oblivious to our argument.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Hunter mutters. “If you’re in a position where you’re getting mugged, you need to—”
“What?” I fix my brother’s enforcer with a scowl. “I need to do what, Hunter? Quit leaving the house? Lock myself inside? Go back to living a non-existent life just so you think I’m perfectly managed?”
“Watch your mouth,” Cole warns.
“No. I won’t.” I glare. “I didn’t tell you—I couldn’t tell you—because I knew how you’d react. You always fly off the handle. You’ve spied on me like I’m a goddamn traitor since Benji died.”
“You can’t deny your track record of making smart decisions is lacking.”
His verbal strike hacks at my confidence. “You’re never going to let me forget my mistakes, are you?”
I never should’ve given my father information on Cole. I’d naively thought I’d been looking out for my family because, back then, my brother was a hothead who enjoyed spilling the blood of anyone who glanced sideways at him.
There were whispers he’d start a drug war for frivolous reasons.
For pride. Or spite. Or even arrogance.
So I kept my father updated on his son. I gave him insight when he couldn’t seek it for himself because he’d fled the country. And I convinced Benji to do the same.
It was for the family’s safety.
For our future.
Back then, I hadn’t known who my father was. What he was. I would’ve killed him myself if I’d known about the sex trafficking.
To me, he was the same man who’d always denied me attention.
Affection.
Love.
His request created the only bond I’d ever had with him. The one connection between us. So when he offered financial compensation for the information I’d already been giving freely, I didn’t see it as a bribe. It was merely a strengthening of our building relationship.
At least, that was what I told myself until he proved otherwise.
The thickening tension builds.
The men at the table judge me with annoyance and disappointment. The women do the same with shame and embarrassment.
Every second, every blink, every sigh or noise of displeasure scampers under my skin, the toxicity finding a home inside me.
“I think we need to end this conversation before it gets out of hand.” Sarah pushes from her chair and grabs the salad bowl. “I vote that the women clear the table and the men stack the dishwasher.”
This is far from over.
Cole will keep hounding me. Will keep holding everything against me until I finally stand up to him.
“I’m not done.” My eyes burn as I stare my brother down. “I’ve apologized over and over again. I’ve tried my best to make amends. I let you bug my house when you said you couldn’t trust me. I allowed your guards to follow me—to invade my home and my privacy—because that’s what you wanted, even though I despised having strange men in my home when Stella and I were at the height of our grief.”
“And?”
I bite my tongue, caught between crying and screaming. “And I didn’t protest when you deliberately sent Tobias to boarding school because you knew Stella would follow. She was all I had, Cole. The only thing to bring me happiness, and I let her go. All for you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. But I won’t allow you to dictate my life anymore.”
“You won’t allow me?” He raises a brow, his livid rage crackling below the surface.
Someone curses under their breath. Hunter or Decker. I’m not sure because I don’t drag my gaze from the severity in my brother’s eyes.
“Yes. I won’t allow you.” I stand my ground. “Everyone at this table has made mistakes. Every single one of them. Yet, two years later, their sins are forgiven and mine seem brand new. Why is that?”
“They’re not blood,” he snarls.