should have had the courage to say months ago, and all this would have been avoided.
Georgie’s eyes widen. “What?”
I chuckle bitterly. “You still think everything will work out, and that I won’t end up alone?” I shake my head, staring out the plane window at the endless puffy, white clouds. “I can’t come back from this. My agent is in jail for treason, and the father of my child tried to murder a prince. What does that say about me?”
“Um, that you have terrible taste in men?”
I laugh, glancing at Georgie. Her blue braids hang on either shoulder and a kind smile stretches across her lips.
“Come on,” she says softly. “You have Ivy. You have us. You have a house and a lot of adoring fans. You have your health. Who cares about the father of your kid? It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It means you made one bad decision. Everyone does that once in a while.”
I try to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. I know she’s trying to be nice, and I appreciate it.
But she’s wrong.
I don’t have Ivy. I never did. Ivy is her own person, and best thing I can do for her is to let her live her own life. I saw how happy she was at the wedding. She doesn’t need me bringing her down.
I don’t have the twins, either. They aren’t my friends.
A house? More like a prison.
Adoring fans? More like vultures.
And my health. Well, that’s another bombshell that hasn’t dropped yet. But what’s the point of telling it now? Who cares if I have Huntington’s? I don’t want Dante’s pity. He’s already retracted his love and his commitment to my child. My medical history doesn’t change that.
No, it’s just me, and my baby.
The way it’s always been.
The way it’ll always be.
26
Dante
You know the sounds that the adults in the Charlie Brown Show make? That’s what I hear when Theo debriefs me on the Beckett situation.
Luca is pacing the study, running his hands through his hair over and over again.
But all I can think of is Margot.
She’s gone—because of me.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I wanted her to leave. I could hardly stand to look at her when she confirmed that Beckett’s the father.
Now that she’s gone, it hurts. I regret speaking to her that way. I feel sorry for how we left it.
Worst of all, one of the things that Beckett said plays on repeat in my mind.
Even after I stuck a needle in her, she was strong enough to stay alive.
Beckett caused her overdose. He didn’t just try to kill Luca, he tried to kill Margot, too.
But I’m still angry. Heat clutches my heart, squeezing it a little too hard. Pain slices across my chest, sending daggers of fire up into my throat.
She should be here.
But she lied.
Back and forth, my mind tugs at me. I can’t ignore the love I have for her, but I can’t get over the fact that she kept the truth from me.
It was a lie by omission, but it was a lie nonetheless. For weeks, we worked on keeping her safe from Beckett. I changed my plans and exposed my face to the media for her sake. I worked to keep her protected from him, and she never told me.
She never had the courage to say who the father was.
I should have known.
It’s hard to reconcile my thoughts about Margot. On one hand, I admire her strength and perseverance. She has more resilience than anyone else I know.
On the other hand, she lied. She was weak. She fell into my arms, asking me to care for and protect a baby created by the man who tried to kill Luca.
“Did he say anything about his plans, Dante?” Theo’s eyes are sharp as he stares at me, leaning his fists on his desk.
I clear my throat, shaking my head. “No.”
“What did he want?” Luca stops pacing, staring at me. “If he didn’t threaten me or you again, and he didn’t tell you what his plans were, what did he want? Why did he talk to you?”
My brothers stare at me as bitterness coats my tongue. I try to swallow the acrid taste in my mouth, but it burns my throat on the way down.
With a deep breath, I resign myself to the pain of speaking the words that hurt so much to hear. “He wanted me to know that he’s the father of Margot’s child.”