I PACED NEAR the windows of my office. The world beyond the glass continued to move. Small cars created ribbons of traffic, and tiny dots of all different colors walked along the sidewalks. The colors of the dots were created with jackets and coats, hats and gloves, possibly even scarves. While the early afternoon sun cast shadows on the ribbons and dots, it did little to warm the air. But this was New York. The residents were tough and would persevere. Despite the late October breeze blowing fiercely between the buildings, all of the dots moved forward, onward as if my world weren’t on the brink of imploding.

I was from here, born in Brooklyn, raised in Rye. I was resilient, yet I didn’t feel that way. Instead, I felt defeated. Why was I back in New York?

How could I face Charli one day, admitting that I’d left her… in that house of horrors?

Nothing about my brief talk with Patrick this morning alleviated my level of stress. We hadn’t had much time and he had a prior obligation. That was why the two of us had a dinner meeting scheduled for tomorrow. Nevertheless, during our quick chat, he’d confirmed my unspoken fears. With each response, I had the sickening realization that I hadn’t grasped the depth of Charli’s despair when she first arrived in New York. I could make excuses. I could blame my own rage, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d been in pain and I hadn’t recognized it.

That wouldn’t happen again.

According to Patrick, the loss of Charli’s trust fund was sudden and recent. She’d told me about it, but not in detail. She’d said that her mother and Alton Fitzgerald had taken it. What she hadn’t told me was that they offered her another option. Her alternative to being penniless was to transfer to Savannah Law, marry Edward Spencer, and live at Montague Manor.

My Charli hadn’t caved to their will. She’d fought them… and found Infidelity. Though the company was supposed to be a secret, it seemed as though it was truly the worst-kept kind. Patrick was the one who’d told Charli about it. He still assumed I was her client. In his mind, that made the topic open for discussion.

As I watched the ribbons and dots, I palmed my temples. My head ached from both too much whiskey and not enough sleep. Sleeping hadn’t been an option after Charli’s call.

There was something else that bothered me. Patrick had said more than once that he was happy Charli had found me and that we’d been paired together. He didn’t know what an ass I’d been, how I’d treated her, chastising her for a choice and decision that should have been praised. Not that I do or did condone Infidelity, but she should have been applauded for standing up to the injustices she’d endured. That wasn’t what I’d done. Instead, I’d belittled and punished her.

What made it all worse—ten times, a thousand times, a million fucking times worse—was that now, despite it all, she was back under their roof again. The independence she’d exerted was taken away from her in an instant. Patrick had no doubt that somehow they’d sucked her back in. He did question the possibility of ever truly freeing her, especially as long as her mother was ill. A black hole, he called it.

I didn’t argue, though I vehemently disagreed. I’d free her if it were the last damn thing I did. But first, my goal was to understand my opponents. I wanted to know every detail, from the layout of Montague Manor—the grounds and the house—to the way Alton Fitzgerald took his coffee. I wanted to know everything.

I’d learn as much from Patrick as possible and once I did, I’d free her. And then I’d spend the rest of my life atoning for my unacceptable behavior. Never again would she feel trapped. Never again would she be sucked into the Montague darkness. I’d do anything and everything to fulfill one promise I’d made her. I’d said it when I was upset, but I meant every damn word.

Alexandria Charli Montague Collins is mine. She belongs to me. I’m not a good man, but I’m the only fucking bad I want near her.

That had been my promise and my threat. I wouldn’t rest until I made it her reality.

For the millionth time, I opened the tracker app on my phone. Her blue dot was still at the manor. As soon as it moved, I’d alert Isaac. He had access to the same app. I knew he was also watching, but it made me feel better to see her, even if she was a blue dot.

I even spoke to the blue dot: “Charli, I may have left Savannah, but know it was only because you asked. It’s only because it’ll help you see your mother. Don’t think of me as being gone. I’m still with you and you’re with me. Stay strong, princess. I’ll get you back… this bad man needs you. You’re my good, my light.”

The beep of the intercom beckoned my focus toward the speaker on my desk phone and away from the tracker app. “Mr. Demetri, your father is on line two.”

If I stood perfectly still, could I ignore Dianne’s message and pretend I didn’t hear her?

I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer that I was up-to-date on whatever the fuck he was going to ask, and pushed the button. “Thank you, Dianne. I’ll take his call.”

Easing myself into my desk chair, I lifted the receiver and pushed the connection for line two. “Oren.”

“Lennox. Tell me what’s happening.”

That was such a broad request. My mind scrambled with what he could possibly be referring to. “There’s a lot happening. Care to narrow that down?”

“I could ask about the distribution centers you promised Carroll or the way you outsmarted Davis with the House bill, but I’m more interested in why two separate private Demetri-contracted planes went to Savannah. I’m interested in why five people went to Savannah and only three returned to New York.” His tenor uncharacteristically slowed. “I’m interested in why Miss Collins didn’t return. I was under the impression she was a studious person, intent on her law degree.”

“How the fuck do you know this?”

Oren’s volume rose. “I’m the damn CEO of Demetri Enterprises. You may think I’m sitting in London not paying any fucking attention, but I see everything. Every manifest is copied and sent to me. Every proposal goes past me before it goes further. I started this company from nothing—”

I pushed back against the chair, my temper and temperature rising exponentially. “I know!” I interrupted. “I’ve heard this fucking speech. Get to your point.”

“Why is Miss Collins in Savannah without you?”

I ran my hand through my hair. I must be not only sleep-deprived, but also fucking delusional, because for a moment I imagined hearing genuine concern in my father’s voice, concern over my life, my girlfriend, perhaps even more than how it related to Demetri Enterprises. “Why the hell do you care?”

“So it was just a fling? A conquest? You threw her away, or did she leave you?”

My head moved from side to side. “You really don’t want to have this conversation with me right now.”

“Mr. Demetri,” Dianne’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hold on, Dad,” I said leaning forward and hitting the button. “Not now, Dianne. I’m still on the phone.”

“Sir, Mr. Demetri—”

I lifted my eyes to the opening of my office door, momentarily stunned as my father entered with Dianne half a step behind.

“Sir, he’s here.”

Slamming the receiver down, I replied, “I can see that.” My stare sent daggers toward my father. Fuck him. He didn’t have any idea what I was going through.

As our eyes locked, I expected the daggers in return. I expected some arbitrary lecture about how my name was associated with his company and in reality it was his name on the letterhead. I expected anything other than what I saw. In the split second since he’d entered, the arrogant prick I expected was gone. In my father’s pale eyes was something I hadn’t seen in years.

Emotion. Concern. Perhaps even helplessness.

“Dianne, close the door. Give us a minute.”

Oren placed his phone in his pocket.

“You didn’t think you should’ve started that conversation with I’m here?”

“Tell me what’s happening. Don’t bullshit. I want to know.”

“Why?”

He walked to the chair near the sofa. The one he always used, the one facing the door.

“Son, that’s a long story.”