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I scowled at my brother as I zipped up my suitcase. “I would kill to have her back. But nothing has changed. And now she actually does hate me for good reason.”
He shook his head. "The Atticus I know wouldn’t give up. You always think there is something you can do.”
"My focus is on what I can control. Getting the evidence Dad has on my mom, and destroying it. There is no fixing what I did to Gwen. I wouldn’t forgive me.”
My brother scrubbed a hand over his face in that telltale way he did when he was frustrated. "What's the deal with your mum?" Micah asked.
"She's improving. Pierce has got her tucked away, and he and Gavin are taking shifts guarding her. No one is getting near her. But she needs a companion. Are you sure we couldn't get Tessa to stay with her?" Mom’s caretaker hadn’t been able to travel with her so King Sebastian and Queen Penny had given us some referrals.
Micah shook his head. "No. When you moved your mum, Tessa said she had other jobs lined up and she was taking a long vacation first. Also the old man was tracking our movements with your mum. He took the private jet to California, flew commercial to Hawaii, stayed there for a few days, and then he chartered a jet to Antigua. But he lost the trail. He doesn't know where she is now."
Damn. "Thank you," I murmured softly. As much as he was irritating me, I couldn’t have done any of this without him.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Your mother was kind to me when she didn't have to be. She could have taken out your father's bullshit on me, but she didn't. I'm quite fond of her, actually. So maybe don't thank me for being a decent human being where she’s concerned."
I let my shoulders sag. "You know what I'm saying. Thank you for all of this."
He shrugged and took a sip of his scotch. "I’m serious though. Your eye bags have eye bags. On the off chance you do see her, you want to look good. Or at least better than dog shit."
I scowled at him. "Mind your business, Micah."
"Sorry, big brother, your business is my fucking business. I happen to fucking like Gwen. And more importantly, I like who she makes you. With her, more people see the you I know. You were cold before, but this"—he waved his hand in my general vicinity—"is pathetic. Fix it. Start getting some goddamn sleep. You’re useless like this.”
"Thanks for that.”
“You've got two months until the shareholders meeting,” he reminded me. “Dad has already put himself as an agenda line item for reinstatement. We need to focus. You need to get your shit together. Either go get her, or let her go."
What Micah didn’t understand was that even now, I couldn’t let her go. Gwen was mine. And in my heart, she was going to stay that way.
Chapter 3
GWEN
After hanging up with Morgan, I started my trek to work.
I hadn’t been entirely lying when I said I was doing well. Focusing on the software release gave me a place to put my mind. The software would be a huge coup if we could get it right.
If I could get it right.
And the deal I’d inked included a licensing fee every time Pendragon used it for one of their clients. So I could have money, lots of it. And time to figure out my next move.
If I just stayed focused on that, I would be okay.
I dragged in the moist London air, already being able to scent the hint of rain. I patted the inside of my peacoat to make sure I'd stuffed in my short umbrella. I was relieved to find it there as I pulled the collar of my coat higher.
The glass doors of Pendragon were just ahead. I’d taken to going in early on my office days to avoid dealing with too many people. I was five hours ahead of my New York team, and it allowed me to get work done before the flurry of emails and meetings and problems.
I use my Pendragon security card to swipe in past the turnstiles with a wave at the guard. “Good morning, Reginald.”
He gave me a grin and a nod. “Miss Becker.”
I checked the time and saw it was 7:30 a.m. At this rate, I'd still have a solid two hours before others were in the office and time to get a lot of work done before anyone was even awake in the New York offices.
In the elevator, I tried my usual mantra. “You've got this, Gwen. You can make it the whole day and not think about him.”
It was a lie. I knew it, but it felt good to say it. It felt good to pretend that I was strong. The elevator dinged when I reached the 16th floor, and the doors slid open. I was already digging in my purse for the key to my office when I walked into a muscular back.
“Oh shit. I am so sorry. I?—"
