The business world was one where I got to get shit done in my own way, at my own pace. Typically, it was straight to the point without the bullshit attached.
Before Anthony Saint James became governor, he’d once been a partner in my consulting firm that I started shortly after acquiring my master’s in business from NYU. He had set his sights on something else, something bigger, while I was content staying on the sidelines and watching him get everything he wanted. In fact, I encouraged him. That was what friends did and I was happy to see him achieve whatever the hell he put his mind to because it meant something to him.
I was far from a jealous man. Possessive, perhaps, but not jealous. Everything Anthony worked hard for was well earned—the job, the title, the family. He loved Elizabeth and Adele with everything he had, even more than his job. There wasn’t anything he did that he wasn’t good at; being a loving father and husband and governing an entire state. He’d had bad days, some worse than others, and I wasn’t sure Della knew when their parents’ marriage was rocky, and he stayed with me for a week. I was under the impression he guised it as a trip for work. She had no reason to believe otherwise because her parents had the kind of sickening love that people envied. Me though? Not so much. Not until I saw what her death did to him. He was ripped apart, like a piece of him was suddenly missing, and I didn’t realize until then, that it was the kind of love worth envying. Something I didn’t have with my wife at the time.
I worked until the early hours of the morning before dumping out the warm alcohol that taunted me and heading to my bedroom upstairs—right next to the one I used to share with my ex. There were plenty of other rooms in the house, but I favored the downstairs one since it was close to the office, kitchen, and gym. I rarely went anywhere else on the second floor unless there were guests over and that was rare considering the few that stopped by shared a bed with me only until they left in the morning like agreed upon.
Maybe it was knowing that Della was downstairs after what had happened that left me restless, maybe it was the stiffness in my boxer briefs that I refused to relieve no matter how painful it got, but I gave up sleeping more than four hours and found myself in the kitchen just as the sun rose.
I heard the light footsteps before seeing her from my peripheral, her body leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen. She was still wearing the same dress from last night even though I set clothes on the end of the bed for her to change into. Then again, who knew if she even saw them or wanted to wear something that wouldn’t even fit.
“How are you feeling?”
She straightened at my question, pushing herself away from the wall when I held out the cup of coffee I was originally going to down myself.
Her long fingers wrapped around the steaming mug. “Tired,” she croaked, clearing her throat and giving me a timid smile. “I, uh, talked to Lawrence and he told me—”
Cutting her off with a glare wasn’t what she expected, but her lips pressed together when I said, “I don’t want to hear about that piece of shit right now. He knew better than to leave you alone there.”
“He’s not a piece of…” Her voice was quiet, hurt by my words. She cared about him. I knew it. Didn’t like it, but I understood. Della got her loyalty from her father. “He isn’t my babysitter, Theo. It was a frat party and he deserved to have fun. I should have known better than to drink so much, and—”
“Is that what you think happened?”
She frowned.
“You were fucking drugged. Slurring your words, hardly able to stand or open your eyes. It wasn’t from drinking too much. I know for a fact you can hold your own. That you get from your mother and Sophie.” Her cheeks tinted pink, but I ignored the embarrassment. “I never liked you going to those. You’re a target to people. Especially now.”
“I am not!”
I eyed her, then turned my back to prepare a second cup of coffee. “Don’t act stupid, Adele. It doesn’t look good on you.”