Page 17

“Be easy on her, Adonis. At least until you get the full story.”

The beginning, middle and end of it is her brother owes me money. A five-hundred-thousand-dollar loan that doubled because he couldn’t keep his fucking word.

A drop in the bucket compared to the millions I have, but it’s not the money, it’s the principle.

“Just call me when he wakes up,” I say before ending the call.

Then I place the phone face down on my desk while I open the email from Victor. It doesn’t tell me anything I don’t know.

Delilah Rose.

Twenty-six years old.

Daughter of Marcellus Rose.

And a ghost until last year.

No school records beyond kindergarten registration atWildwood Christian Academy. No medical records. Nothing.

All I can see is that she signed a lease on a studio with another woman last summer in the Highlands and started working as a barista not too long ago.

How the hell is she twenty-six with no record of existing until her father’s death?

He didn’t have her in school? Didn’t take her to the doctor?

Or had he paid someone to do everything under the table?

With the rim of my empty glass to my lips, I print out the file and catch Titus’ gaze on me.

“What?”

He’s never looked at me with anything less than disinterest, but now his eyes are glued to me like he’s waiting for me to tell him it’s okay to go harass the person attached to the new scent he’s been trying to place since Delilah showed up.

“Relax, she’s not here to play with you.” I warn.

The chocolate lab by my office door, huffs his frustration and tucks tail to walk back into the hall.

Refilling my tequila, I snatch the papers from the printer tray and rake my eyes over the info again. There’s gotta be something I’m missing.

Who the hell is Delilah Rose and why didn’t she exist until a year ago?

Chapter 9

Can’t Wait to Forget This

DELILAH

When I finally get into the bathroom, I face my reflection in the mirror above the sink. And I don’t flinch at the burgundy accents that weren’t there when I left my apartment.

Adonis’ voice thrums in my ears until the callous words turn into my father’s.

The stark mix of both my own dried blood and my brother’s against the white dress taunts me until I’m not in this bathroom anymore but back in the house I grew up in. Thrown back into a memory of another man telling me I smelled and I needed to shower.

“That’sthe second time this week I had to stop what I was doing to come pick you up from that schoolhouse, Delilah.”

My daddy is moving too fast. I have to run to catch up with him.

His steps thunder through the house and I don’t question where he’s leading me until we get to the stairs going down to the basement.