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“Do you know what my parents will do if they hear you calling me that?”

Like I give a fuck.

“Kate. Look. At. Me.”

Finally, she turns to look at me, her eyes puffy from the tears I know she’s cried and fought to hide all the way here. “What?”

“You don’t need these people and don’t owe them a thing. You hear me?” I know she doesn’t hear me. She thinks this whole thing is a terrible idea, and I can see it just by feeling the way she trembles beneath my touch.

“You don’t know them like I do. All my life, it’s been ‘toe the line we set or pick up the pieces of the mess we’ll make of your life.’”

“Life? By that, I assume you mean your career?”

“Yes, Jensen. My career, my job, aka my life.”

“Your success doesn’t define you, and neither do they.”

Kate opens her mouth but then closes it quickly, casting her eyes from where my hand is resting in her lap up to the rearview mirror. “They’re here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KATE

“Ready?”

I watch as Henry gets out of their Land Rover and stalks toward the back of Jensen’s car, his face twisted with anger.

My trembles intensify. “No.”

“I’ll do the talking.”

Jensen opens his door and begins to climb out, but I grab his arm at the last minute. “Promise me.” I look straight into his brown eyes, praying I can trust him. “Promise it’s going to be okay.”

Lifting my hand, he gently traces his lips across my knuckles. “One day, you won’t need me to promise you anything. You’ll just know.”

A harsh throat clears from behind us, and when Jensen gets out of the car and closes the door behind him, I’m left in the passenger seat staring out of the driver’s window at the way Henry scowls at him. His hands are on his hips, his glasseshalfway down his nose, and a look of superiority written right across his face.

That look has never changed since the day I was born.

Oh, hell no, he isn’t doing this to Jensen as well. I reach for the car door handle.

“Kate, nice of you to join us.” Violet stands a couple of feet away from the men, clearly waiting for me to get out of the car.

“I don’t have a key to the house, so we waited for you to get home.”

“You don’t have a key because it’s not your home.”

Jensen stops whatever he’s saying and whips his head over. “What do you mean ‘not your home?’ She’s your blood.”

In response, she holds up a condescending hand. “Technically, you’re trespassing here, but since you made the effort to wait around for us, let’s go inside. I don’t do discussions on my driveway.”

Violet and Henry walk side by side up to the porch and then into the house as we follow. I can practically feel the anger flowing from Jensen as we step into the grand entrance, and he takes a look around.

There are no family pictures, only ones of us accepting degrees and achievements. The remaining images are of my parents meeting and socializing with big names and people in high places.

“Fuck me. This place is a shrine to them,” Jensen says under his breath.

“Sure is.” Touching his arm, I lead him to the study, where they hold all their meetings. “They won’t offer you a drink.”