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“So what?” Georgina slaps her hands down on the tabletop. It’s the first time I actually notice that she doesn’t wear jewellery with the exception of her studs. And her hands are so delicate and fine that it seems sinful that they’re not adorned with exquisite jewels and precious metals.
Maybe I should change that? She is mine, after all, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way. Forever and eternity. The girl is mine. My goddess. My swan.
My sight sets on her hand while her harsh breaths rack through her body into mine. As though she can hear my thoughts, she clasps her hand over my grasp on her belly, stroking her fingertips over Baize’s shoe nail. It’s the ring she always plays with, the one she favours. Physically, it’s the least valuable compared to the family heirloom on my little finger. To me, however, that horseshoe nail is more precious. Baize was my escape and confidant when I needed him most. The day I had to have mercy on him was one of the worst I’ve ever lived. He was mine, like she is.
“Jordan is dead for no reason? Just because?”
“From the forensics report and the post-mortem, we believe he fell asleep at the wheel.” Benedict reaches forward, flattening his hand to the tabletop close to hers.
“He died because some inconsiderate arsehole took a nap?”
Fuck, she’s losing it again. I can feel her clam up, tensing as her breathing shallows. She’s going to have another full-blown panic attack, and every time she has one, they get worse because her grief is setting in deeper. That’s the kind of shit that blackens your soul. It eats away at all the hope. I can’t let that happen to Georgina. Her light and hope are what make her who she is. They’re what make her different to everyone else.
Loosening my arms around her waist, I coil one around her chest, pressing my lips to her shoulder before I nip at the smooth skin and supple flesh with my teeth. It’s a distraction, something she loves. The slight bite of pain is enough to ground her.
You and me, baby, I tell her silently with a kiss to soothe my nip. You and me.
Withdrawing her hand from the table, she turns her face to mine before muttering into my ear, “Make them leave.”
Peering up, I find Francis’ solemn stare. He knows that right now, I’ll do whatever Georgina asks of me. If it will ease her anguish, there is nothing I won’t do. Benedict stands, and before he walks out, he pulls a small, gold filigree jewellery box from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and places it on my desk.
“Mamá quiere que la tengas contigo,” he tells her earnestly.
“Is it going to bring him back?”
“No.”
“What use is it to me, then?”
“Don’t be callous.”
“Llevatela.”
Picking the box up, he leans closer and puts the box down right in front of her. The anger coursing through her is fire, and I am holding a blazing inferno as she backhands it out of her sight.
“I said. Take. It. Away. I don’t need her mercy or hope. Peace and salvation…it’s all a crock of shit. So take it away!”
Glancing down to the floor beside us, I glimpse the small gold cross on the granite floor. Like the box it was in, the intricate filigree is mesmerising as it nuzzles four stones at each extremity, all different colours with the middle one a deep, blood ruby that catches the light in the most extraordinary way. It could be a perfect drop of blood—glinting and shimmering.
It’s so similar to the crucifix that Casper wears. This one is dainty though, the craftsmanship knottier and more elaborate. The gold threads are so fine that on the hard floor it looks impossibly delicate. I suppose it’s an accurate representation of how the two of us look together.
Benedict doesn’t rise to her outburst. Instead, he leaves with nothing but a backward glance as he walks past the stairs to the front door. Francis doesn’t linger much longer. However, he does pick the necklace up from the floor, along with the box. Rather than putting it back on the table, he makes a point of handing it to me before he follows Benedict, leaving us alone again.
“You and me.” I press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. When I find her gaze, she looks dazed. I remember that. Feeling like I would never find my feet again. Like I was lost for good. All I could do was scream and scream until my throat was so sore that it gave up on me. All of that, and no one ever seemed to listen. Francis and Penny tried, but she was sad too, and Francis was seeing her through it.
“I’m tired, Freddie. Really fucking tired.” Georgina slumps down onto the desk, staring at my chest as she murmurs, “I don’t know how to be this person, and I don’t know how to feel better either. I want to be okay, but…”
“You don’t have to be okay, beautiful girl.” The vice in my chest constricts tighter as I stand in the shadow of her agony. “It’s all right not to smile at present. More than that,” I tell her, lifting her chin so I have her soft, wounded gaze on me. “All that pain you’re feeling, it’s good that you’re turning it into anger. It means that you have fight left in you. It means that you are strong and that you will survive. And that is what we do in this world—we survive at all costs.”
It’s the middle of the afternoon, and the guys are meant to be coming over in an hour to discuss what we’re going to do about the shit with the Russians. However, I need to put my heart back together right now. That’s my only priority. Even if the report in front of me doesn’t change anything.
This is war, and I might be pulling back to take care of Georgina, but I’m not backing down. I’m going to do whatever it takes to annihilate the fuckers. Every single one. I won’t stop until their bones are ash beneath my feet.
Standing, I take Georgina up with me and slip the box with the necklace into my trouser pocket. Georgina might not want it now, but I know her well enough to know that once she’s out of this fog, she’ll change her mind.
“Come on,” I tell her, grasping her hand and slowly tugging her behind me.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I thumb through my phone.
