Page 42 of Brutal Heir

It’s over.

With my new job, I can finally move beyond my dark past. No more Conall, no more Brigid, no more strangling fear.

I’m free.

As the elevator zips up to the top floor, I inhale a calming breath, holding the flowers I picked up to my chest. Fire lilies. They seemed appropriate. I clutched them in my fists the day of my wedding when I ran, and here I am, a year later, finallyfree. Leaning against the cool metal, my pulse relaxes to its normal rhythm. It feels so good to be home. Bollocks, when did I start thinking of Alessandro’s penthouse as home? The thought bursts the happy little bubble as the elevator doors glide open.

Johnny stands by the entrance, thick arms crossed over his crisp white shirt and black suit. He offers a smile but thankfully doesn’t announce my arrival as he opens the door. Not that I wasn’t allowed to leave, but I had snuck out before Alessandro woke up.

The familiar smell of Mrs. Jenkin’s homemade carrot-bran muffins fills the penthouse as I tiptoe past the guard.

“Where have you been?” That deep timber resonates deep inside me, all the way to my bones. Alessandro appears around the corner, walking surprisingly well today. He’s been adamant about getting out of that wheelchair for good, and I’m damned proud of the progress he’s made.

“Went out to get a manicure. Is that okay with you, nosey?” I flash him a sneer along with my stubby, polish-free nails.

“You were gone when I woke up and I was just?—”

“I went to get the papers you requested for your lawyer to draft my contract.” I pull out the manilla envelope from my tote bag and hand it over.

“Oh.” A reluctant smile kicks up the corners of his lips, and it shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. “Good.”

“Good,” I echo.

“And those flowers?”

I give a noncommittal shrug. “I thought they would bring some life to the place. They’re fire lilies.”

“Firelilies?” His lips twist.

“Yes, because even fire gives birth to beauty.”

His eyes soften, mouth curving and the sight has my heartbeat accelerating once again.

We remain like that standing in the middle of the foyer, eyes locked, for an endless moment. He’s searching my eyes for an answer I can’t quite provide. I’m happy that this has worked out, but I’m also terrified. Because as much as I’ve tried to run from my past, I’m scared that fate has led me right back into the very darkness I swore I’d never face again.

CHAPTER 18

THE GEMINI LEGACY

Alessandro

Follow the money.

Blinking quickly to rid my eyes of the lingering glare, I force my weary gaze away from the computer screen. I’ve been staring at the damned thing for hours trying to figure out which one of my employees at the Velvet Vault is stealing from me.

So far, I haven’t come up withmerda.

The more I think about it, the more certain I become that the only reason why someone would be stupid enough to steal from me would be out of desperation. Though the Gemini’s link to the mob has never been confirmed, the majority of my employees are smart enough to put two and two together. So why risk it?

It just doesn’t make sense.

With a growl of frustration, I shove the chair back freeing myself from the confines of the massive desk in the office I never use.Papàhad it set up after the accident in hopes that he could force me into delving into Gemini Corporation’s affairs. With meunable, or rather more like unwilling, to set foot inside the Vault he hoped I could work for him from home.

The joke was on him. I sat on my ass and did nothing for months.

I didn’t want to be my father—trapped behind a desk, living behind the ivory walls of Gemini Tower. Growing up, I saw what that did to him, toMa, to our family. It sucked away the brilliant spark in his eyes. I refuse to follow in his footsteps. I want to blaze my own path.

And maybe now the time has come… It’s time to stop wallowing in my own damned self-pity if only to punish thebastardowho thought he could get away with stealing from me. In fact, maybe I’ll start showing my face around the Vault more often. As soon as I’m permanently out of that damned wheelchair anyway. My gaze swivels to the scrap of metal across the room, the very symbol of my brokenness. I vow to be rid of the thing by the end of the month, and when I am, I’ll throw it from the balcony and watch smiling as it shatters in a thousand pieces across Central Park West.