Page 21 of When Hearts Unravel

“But seriously,” Lana grabs my hand, “is there any truth to what they’re saying? I can deal with the press, the PR, but are you doing…drugs?”

The room falls silent. I even hear the faint barking of Silas, Maxwell and Belle’s one-eyed husky, running around the mansion somewhere.

The thudding of my heart intensifies.

Does Velowake count? No. Of course it doesn’t. It’s mainly made of caffeine. All legal substances. Borderline, maybe. Normally prescription required, which I definitely don’t have. But still…not hard drugs. Not the ones she’s referring to.

It’s a line I’ve drawn for myself. Partying, alcohol, caffeine pills, and even the occasional joint or two, but no hard drugs.

Deep down, I’m afraid if I ever touch those substances, I’d become addicted and couldn’t dig my way back out.

“Rex?”

I let out an incredulous scoff. “No, of course not. I was stupid, too excited about this cruise kicking off. Celebrated a little too hard, that’s all. Sorry for making your life difficult.”

Her eyes soften as she scans my face for tells. “Well, you’ve always made my life hard, so what’s another day?”

“You little shit.” I grin. “You love me.”

“We won’t force you to tell us what’s wrong. But know you aren’t alone. You have an army behind you.” Maxwell clasps my shoulder. “But we think it’s time for you to see a professional. A therapist or a psychiatrist.”

“Ashrink? No fucking way.” I recoil, thinking about doctor number five, world-renowned Dr. Finneas Cambridge.

Silver-haired, wait list a year long, wore bow ties like an Olympic sport. Smelled like sardines and old newspapers. After two sessions, he blamed everything on “mommy issues,” and my symptoms resulted from unresolved tension and abandonment fixation. How I was a textbook case of the Oedipus complex. What bullshit.

There’s no way I’m seeing a shrink again.

Shaking my head, I say, “I just need to get away and clear my head. I’m sure being on the cruise will help—the ocean, the beaches, the exotic locations. I’ll be fine.”

And Elias’s mission—I’m sure he’ll tell me more eventually, but I assume this mystery woman is in a similar situation to Raya’s. Ava and Cora’s mom had been married to someone in The Association. She overheard something she wasn’t meant to, and she’d paid for it with her life.

Whoever this new woman is, ithasto end differently this time.

Maxwell grimaces. “About that…”

“What?” I stiffen.Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.

“I hate to do this to you, but you saw the passenger cancelations. The drug allegations are rattling the patrons. With the tabloids breathing down our necks, we think it’s best if you sit this one out.”

“But this is my project! I spent the last year crafting the itinerary, generating the campaigns, liaising with vendors, the travel teams, every fucking thing.”

Ineedto be on the cruise to save that woman.

I need it more than I need food to survive.

Desperation and resentment flood my veins. I stalk to the windows. “No fucking way. You guys aren’t pulling me off shit.”

I jam my hand into my pocket and grip the red marble to the point of pain. This is what I get for being a fuck up—my family not trusting me.

I need atonement. I need to fix myself.

“It’s the right choice, C. You work out whatever’s been bothering you and we can distance your bad press from the launch,” Ryland comments.

“You don’t even work at Fleur anymore. Stay out of it,B.Go grade some papers or something,” I grit out, pointedly reminding Ryland he vacated his COO role a few years ago to Steven when he pursued being a professor full time.

Our parents alphabetized our middle names by age. Maxwell’s middle name is Angus, Ryland with Benedict, mine as Cassius, all the way down the alphabet to Taylor’s middle name as Gianna. We use them as nicknames, and right now, as insults.

Maxwell glowers at me. “Well,Iwork at Fleur and I’m pulling the boss card. You have a right to keep your shit to yourself, but anything you do can and will reflect upon us. And if you won’t find a therapist, we’ll find one for you—”