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"There's going to be a tie breaker," Trey interrupts. "But it will be me." His smile is sly, the kind he had when I first met him. "I'm voting for Marco."
Chapter Sixteen
I don't dare to breathe. If I do, I might shatter the moment––make it vanish. Because if this is really happening, then...
"Marco wins," I whisper.
"No," Derek says under his breath. His head swings low, he talks softly, to himself. "No, no no. Impossible. This isn't how it's supposed to be."
Marco takes a step forward and the room grows quiet. He holds his hand out for the papers. Derek stares at him, frustration clouding his face. He hands Marco the papers but doesn't let go. "Why?" Derek demands, trying to keep his cool. "What made you change your vote, Trey?"
Trey tosses the blankets aside. He moves easily, not giving off the vibe of someone who was on death's door. My brain sparks as the realization clicks. "You were pretending to be unconscious," I say.
With a sheepish shrug, Trey stands and stretches. "Yeah. I wanted to hear what Derek and Marco would say if they were forced to choose between a tie, or losing the company."
Derek grits his teeth. "You werepretending?"
"Don't get angry at me," Trey says flatly. He gets in Derek's face. "You're the one who showed your true colors. Marco was willing to give up his chance if it meant the business stays in the family. You were fine with losing it all, because you were too proud to vote for anyone but yourself. You constantly swore it was Marco who was selfish. Now we all know better."
Marco wrenches the papers from Derek's hand. Bending over the small table in the room, he scribbles his name on the bottom in gorgeous, elegant swoops. Nathan moves over, signing next. One by one every brother makes the document official. Only Derek is left.
He shuts his eyes, gathering himself. His hands are hard fists at his sides; he's on the verge of lashing out again. His voice rattles as it leaves his body. "You're wrong about me. I care about this family, more than any of you seem to believe." Snapping his eyes open, he marches to the papers.
Marco holds out the pen. "Prove it."
Derek yanks the pen from Marco and signs hastily. Then he gives a final scowl at each man in turn, saving the last and most disdain filled for me. I tremble under his fury but manage not to budge. Snarling like a wolf, Derek leaves the room.
Nathan claps his hands together. "Let's hear it for our new CEO––Marco."
Heratio raises a cheer. I'm filled with pride, and relief, that everything worked out in the end. I sneak a glance at Trey who's standing by the window. He's leaning against the wall; he doesn't notice me noticing him wince.
I bite my lip nervously. "Are you actually okay?" I call out to him.
Trey stiffens at my question. "Yeah, I'm fine." He tries to laugh but coughs instead. "I might be slightly exaggerating how good I feel. Nearly drowning takes a lot out of a person, but the doctors say I'm okay to leave tonight."
Marco takes a deep breath, then gives Trey a hug. Trey's eyebrows shoot up. "If you hadn't changed your mind––"
"Shut up," Trey says. He pats Marco on the back lightly. "You saved my life, the least I could do was let you be in charge of our soul-sucking operation."
Marco chuckles heartily. "Whatever. Thanks."
Trey didn't switch his vote because Marco jumped in to rescue him,I think, recalling the confrontation just moments ago with Derek.He came to his senses about which brother was right for the job.
Trey's attention goes to me over Marco's shoulder. He gives me a knowing smile, then untangles himself from his large brother. "Let's celebrate with a drink."
"You shouldn't have alcohol," Nathan warns.
"Ah, shows how little you know about the sea, brother," Trey scolds gently. "Sailors who drowned were often brought back to full health by a stiff drink poured down their throats."
Everyone laughs, the men clearing the hospital room. I start to follow but Marco halts, blocking me inside. We're alone. "Filia," he says.
The sound of my name on his lips sends a wild thrill through me. I stare up into his eyes, then down at the floor. A moment passes between us, heavy and full of meaning.
"Thank you," he says finally. His voice is soft as a feather in the air. "I know you had my back this whole time."
I shrug, embarrassed by his words. "You did this yourself, Marco."
He hooks a finger under my chin and gently brings my face up to meet his gaze. There's understanding there that leaves me breathless. Marco leans in and kisses me––tenderly at first, the way you test if a bath is too hot before you slide inside.
