Page 94 of Van Cort

He let go and staggered backwards a few steps, breathless and panting out his indecision. “I should kill you,” he muttered.

“Yes,” his father replied. “You should. A real man would. You won’t, though. Too much of your mother in you.”

Rhett furrowed his brow. At that moment, he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. But it was also the first time there had ever been any mention of him being similar to her in anyway. It caused a pause in him, one that meant nothing because he had nothing to put it against to understand.

Shaking the feeling off, he focused back on the man he’d beaten. “West goes to Harvard,” he said.

“No,” his father replied, shakily. “He goes to Stanford. Nothing has changed, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Rhett watched as he pulled himself from the floor, made his way to the drinks, and looked behind him to Lara’s father. “You can leave now, Henry. Just some youthful exuberance. Testosterone fuelled, no doubt.” Rhett turned back for Henry, almost ashamed to look him in the eye, but he’d already left.

His father laughed about something, slowly, and pulled his attention back.

“You won’t win until I’m dead, boy. Then it will be your turn. For now, you’ll do exactly as I say when I say it.” He righted the upturned chair, poured a drink, downed it, and sat. “Because you are me, boy.” He filled the glass again. “You only have to look at what you’ve just done to know that. Drink?”

Rhett looked at the shaking glass in his father’s hand and felt himself wetting his lips. That, along with the statement about him being just like his father, was enough for him to realise that yes, he was. He glanced down at his own hand, looked at the blood smearing the gold signet ring. There couldn’t be that much of his mother in him because he was definitely like his father in another way, too.

He didn’t fucking lose. He’d never fucking lose.

CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO

RIVER

Closing the door behind me rings déjà-vu in my mind from when I came back after our first adventure to the casino. But there’s one big difference now.

I pull my case into my room and collapse onto the bed.

Did all of that just happen?

Considering it as a work trip, there was little I accomplished. Although that was my head speaking and not my heart. My heart did plenty – falling and tripping all over the place.

The smile on my face is so easy as I think over the time away and the whirlwind that is everything Van Cort. The mansion, thetown, the island… and while there were parts of Everett’s past he shared that were painful and sad, devastating even, for me, the time away showed me that I was wrong about him.

And he’s not just the man from our first date who wanted to sleep with me and ghost.

I run my finger up to the solid gold pendant hanging from the delicate chain, perhaps the most precious thing anyone’s given me before.

It’s late, and it takes me a minute to remember what day of the week it is after agreeing to stay. I can’t remember how long the secondment to Everett’s expires, but it’s not really started yet, so that’s something for tomorrow.

Unpacking can wait, and I curl up on the bed and text April.

I’m back :-)

Well well well – what time do you call this?!

I switch up and video call her, not having the patience to type out all the things.

“Hey!”

“Well?” She jumps right in.

“Well, what?” My grin spreads over my face, and I don’t even attempt to hide it.

“Don’t give me that. You know.”

“He grew up in a freaking mansion outside of Vancouver, which is beautiful and secluded and is intimidating as hell. He owns most of the local town, too,” I rush in.

“Okay, so the exact kind of background and upbringing that you’ve hated and had to stand up to - the entitled and privileged - all your life. What’s got you looking so gooey-eyed?”

How do I explain it?