Page 6
“There’s cake?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She worries her bottom lip while wringing her hands in front of her. “I’d like to get out of here if you don’t mind.”
That’s music to my ears. “Let’s go then,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her out of there. As soon as we’re back in the car, I tell my driver to floor it.
While he zigzags in and out of traffic, I notice Kira peeking at me through her periphery. Every time I meet her gaze, she hurries to look away as though she doesn’t want me noticing. It makes me chuckle. I’m way too old for such games.
“Spit it out,” I demand.
“Spit what out?”
“Whatever’s on your mind,” I clarify, leaning forward so I can squeeze her knee. “You look like you have something to ask me.”
She looks down at my hand on her knee, but wisely doesn’t remove it. “I was just wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Where’s my dad? I thought he would come to the reception,” she finally rushes out.
Chuckling, I squeeze her knee. “I’m imagining he’s at the hospital getting his wrist looked at.” It’s been hours, but considering Harry’s penchant for gambling, I don’t expect him to have good enough medical insurance to cut the line.
Nodding, she mumbles, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I mean, I’m grateful you stopped him, and I’m not trying to protect him,” she hurries to clarify, and that intrigues me. “But now he might take it out on my mom. And I already did everything I could to help her. So now I just need—”
“What do you mean he’ll take it out on your mom?” I ask, genuinely confused.
From the research I did, I thought Paige Adams was in the hospital after a car accident almost a year and a half ago. If I remember correctly, she was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury.
Kira looks down at her steepled fingers. “My mom requires life support and continuous specialist neurological care.” Squaring her shoulders, she finally meets my gaze. “And Dad keeps threatening to just… stop it all so he can cash in her life insurance.”
Ahh, and now it all makes sense. Why Harry Adams proposed the marriage deal, why he was so eager for half the money upfront, and why Kira agreed to marry my son.
What a tangled web we weave.
“So you’re here, in your wedding dress, to save your mom,” I say out loud, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
“Are you, um, disappointed?” she asks nervously.
I can’t help laughing. “Disappointed?” Leaning closer, I catch her gaze. “It doesn’t fucking matter to me why you put that dress on, walked your sweet ass down that aisle, or why you said ‘I do’ to me.”
3
Kira
The elevator doors open directly into Domenico’s penthouse apartment. As I step out behind him, the weight of what’s happened settles deeper into my chest with each breath.
This is home now.
Domenico doesn’t pause to let me look around, and I have to hurry to keep pace, one hand lifting my skirt so I don’t trip. The city glitters beyond the glass—Boston’s skyline scattered with lights that blur into streaks as I move past.
I follow as he turns down a long hallway. Stopping, he throws a door open and turns on the lights. Then he gestures for me to walk inside. “This will be your room for now,” he says.
Instead of walking inside, I stay where I am and take in the room. The bed is made with military precision, cream linens pulled tight, neutral walls that could belong to any hotel in any city. There’s a desk, a chair, and a closet with sliding doors.
