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I quickly checked in with my guards, making sure that they were on alert should Doyle run into the girls while they were shopping, and they confirmed that the girls were wrapping up and about to head back to Asher’s villa.
It was the only comfort that kept me in my seat.
“I never thought we’d have a legitimate reason to force him out of the game like that,” Asher said after a few more hands.
“Me either,” Wes said.
“I hate what Serenity has been through,” Ethan added. “But I’m not sad he’s gone.”
“I won’t miss the asshole,” Cross said. “I just hope this doesn’t come back to bite you.”
“Same,” I said, unable to assure them that it wouldn’t. This was just step one in a long list of steps I had to contend with.
We all decided to end the game after a couple of hours, each of us crashing after the tense situation with Doyle.
I thanked them all again for their support and help, and headed back to my room, where I knew Serenity was now waiting for me with hope flaring in my chest.
I found her in the bedroom, freshly showered and in PJs, reading a book. She put it down the moment she saw me, eyes wide and curious.
I quickly shed my clothes, climbing onto the bed and pulling her into my arms.
“It's done. He's out of the game.”
Relief pooled in her eyes, but she tilted her head. “What about us?”
“I tried,” I said, disappointed that I'd failed her. “He's not seeing reason. I'm hoping that he’ll come to his senses soon. I'll keep trying.”
She nodded, understanding shaping her features. She smoothed her hands over my chest, her eyes focusing on mine. “What now?”
I smoothed some of her silken hair away from her face. “Whatever you want.”
CHAPTER 12
Serenity
“Ihave a day filled with meetings,” Gareth said as we shared our morning coffee at the kitchen table in Charleston.
We'd been here for two weeks, settling into a new routine that had a wholly different vibe than the one in Chicago. A routine that was filled with normal business transactions on Gareth’s end and a lot of adjusting to my new surroundings on mine.
Gareth had managed what I thought was impossible, which was getting my father kicked out of the billionaire’s game, and despite knowing he wouldn’t back off now that he knew I wasn’t an asset to him anymore, at least not until he squeezed something from Gareth, either money or a favor, it still felt like a win.
“What are your plans today?” he asked.
The question was an innocent one, but it stirred up a slew of emotions that I had a hard time controlling. Gareth was being sweet, genuinely interested in how I would spend my day, and there was no judgment on his behalf, either.
A few days ago, I told him I had nothing on the agenda except to finish the latest season of Bridgeton on Netflix. He'd kissed me and told me to take notes if there were any scenes I wanted to recreate.
It was becoming more and more clear to me that as long as I was happy, Gareth was content. Which I still couldn't fully believe. Chalk it up to my upbringing, but I kept waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. At my home, rewards and luxuries and praise were accompanied with conditions and prices and passive aggression.
“I think I'll call Daisy and see if she wants to grab lunch. Is that okay?” I asked, , then immediately cringed. “Sorry,” I said. “You have to be tired of me asking for things.”
Gareth set down his mug and reached for my hand across the table. “There’s no time limit that you’re expected to heal in. We can't undo years of conditioning in two months. You don't have to apologize. And you don't need to worry about me getting tired. Haven't I proven to you that I have the stamina of a mythical god by now?”
A warm flush raked over my skin, and an effortless laugh escaped my lips.
This man.
Hope built inside me, painting an optimistic future that stretched on forever.
