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“I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

He sighed and swiveled toward me, a few white-blond strands falling to his temples. His rugged handsomeness, his striking features, infuriated me.

“This is how we’ve always done it,” he said. “Would you like for me to bring Ronan up here for you to place your argument?”

I batted my eyelashes and offered a sweet, sarcastic smile. “Let him in, and I’d be happy to tell this to his face.”

I didn’t really care about the reports anymore. But I was sick of being trapped here, and so I buried my nose in them, studying each dollar-sign withdrawal until my eyes stung.

He smirked. “I’m sure you would.”

“You’re not listening,” I clipped, though my eyes shot to his computer screen. “What are you looking for anyway?”

His jaw feathered, his lips flattening to a thin line. “A few replacements for me. After I leave, my father will need more members to add to his security. I’m going through which ones to pay for.”

I swallowed, refusing to acknowledge the hollow ache in my chest at the thought of him leaving Vancouver.

He’d mentioned yesterday that he would still leave, whether he’d signed those papers or not. His father fully believed that Manic would come back. As much as I hated the thought, I didn’t want him to, but I also didn’t want him to disappear. I feared that when it came down to it, I’d miss him. I hated the conflicted feeling.

Manic cleared his throat and my vision refocused.

“What am I not listening to?” he asked.

I sighed and glanced at the papers again. “Businesses, especially income, are messy. Any auditor knows that, and it looks suspicious when figures don’t reflect that fluctuation. Right now, it definitely looks like the casino is embezzling because it’s too clean. They will flag it if it’s not taken care of.”

Unfortunately, at this moment, I thought of my father. He was right in his assumption that the feds would come crawling through his casinos soon. Bitterness coated my tongue again, yanking me back to how I got here—my father being the root of my situation.

Has he worried about me at all? Or has he simply accepted his consequences with Ronan? Would he care if I died? I tucked the questions away, fearing what those answers might be.

“So… what? Make it messier?” Manic inquired.

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“Fine, I’ll call Ronan and give him your insight.”

I blinked, then a slow smile pulled at my mouth. “See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Don’t push,” he grumbled, turning back to his screen.

After lunch and a few more hours of staring at those papers, the elevator doors swooshing open graced my ears.

I craned my neck, peering into the living room to find Axell stepping in. His eyes met mine over the glass railing, and he grinned. He scaled the steps and leaned against the banister, resting an arm over the top.

“Are you forgetting something?” Axell asked Manic.

My brows jumped as an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite place sat beneath his words.

“Forgetting something?” I echoed.

Manic glanced at the corner of his monitor, cursed, and then dragged a hand down his face. “Naomi’s gift.”

Now I was really confused. “A gift for what?”

“Her birthday is tomorrow,” Axell said lightly. Chipper, almost. “And Manic always delivers her gift one day early.”

That piqued my interest, but as my curiosity rose, something warm gathered in my chest—at knowing he would intentionally go out of his way to buy his sister a birthday gift.

I’d spent the majority of my life silently begging for the thoughtfulness of my parents. And while they’d given me gifts throughout the years, they were hardly personable. They were things given to me in passing, or money to buy myself whatever I wanted.