Page 181 of Morally Black Betrothal

Ronan looked me over, that sharp edge reappearing in his gaze. “You really are a moron. Since when doyoutake a bad outcome lying down?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t think there was a point.

“The Brendan Black I know would ruin any asshole who even breathed wrong in his direction. The Black Prince takes no prisoners. Why wouldn’t he fight for his family?”

“Simone isn’t family,” I said, but the words felt like a lie. Maybe because…God, because I wanted her to be.

“She could be,” Liam echoed my thoughts. “If you fight for her like you fight for everything else.”

“How can I fight for her if she won’t even take my calls? She never wants to see me again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Even a degenerate like me knows you have to tell her the truth,” Ronan snapped. “You explain clearly what you did. Why it was fucked up. You promise her the goddamn moon and do whatever it takes to get it right.” He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “It’s called accountability, friends. See what a good therapist does?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I snapped. “If what it takes is giving up my part of the company, that gives you a lane to step right in.”

“So what if it does? I don’t think the question is whether or not this would benefit me or Owen or even Shea in the little dogfight Daddy dearest has set up. The question is whether you care more about that than you do about her.” He sat back in thechair like a man who’d just consumed a big meal. “Your choice, big brother.”

I blinked. He was right.

And it wasn’t even a choice at all.

I reached for my phone. “I’ll try to call her again.”

But before I could, a text lit up my screen from an unfamiliar number.

Blocked Number

573512, -72.551498

I turned the phone. “What the fuck does this mean?”

Liam leaned forward to look. “They’re coordinates.”

“Why the fuck would someone send me?—”

But before I could finish, a picture appeared below the text. A pair of hands, bound with a rope behind the metal back of a chair. Strong and feminine, with short oval nails and an engagement ring on her left hand.

Hands that had mesmerized me with their competence and stability as they kneaded dough, rolled out pastry, or even just stroked my cheek.

“Simone.” I could barely breathe. “Fuck.”

Ronan was already out of his seat. “Looks like Ezra figured out a Plan B. You ready to wage a healthy little war now, brother?”

I had no time for jokes as I was already flying out of the room. “I have to find her. I have to get her safe.”

“Already calling Mac,” Liam assured me as they followed me out of the office.

My employees watched with curious glances as I sprinted for the elevator, my brother and Liam in close pursuit.

I didn’t notice any of them.

Somewhere out there, Simone was hurting. Suffering because of what I had put her through.

The choice I’d already made evaporated as the elevator doors opened.

There was only one option now.

Find my girl and bring her home.