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Fucking hell. Of course he wants Reid.
But that’s not happening. The guy’s as shiesty as they come. He doesn’t give a shit about the locals or surrounding communities, and many of his businesses are contributors to the destruction of the island’s natural habitat.
I’ve got a better idea, and best of all, he won’t be there to change my mind.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“I believe in you.”
Those four words shouldn’t affect me as much as they do, but with them comes a wave of confidence. This is what I’ve been waiting for. A chance to make a change and do something with this company for the greater good.
I can make something great of my father’s legacy and make him proud at the same time.
I offer a parting nod before ending our call, feeling more in control than I have in years.
I’ll show Penelope that it’s possible for me to do good things with the resources I’ve been given. I’ll show her that this is our purpose.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Penelope
I hold the ring Logan gave me between my pointer finger and thumb, and narrow my gaze at the dream jar framed in its center. Carrie had plans with a friend tonight, which left me alone, relaxing in our fancy apartment, hair wrapped in a towel, a robe around my body, and my face slathered in a chunky green avocado concoction that’s still browning on the coffee table.
“Don’t look at me all judgy like that,” I grumble to the glass before sliding the ring on my finger and examining the cathedral setting.
A half-carat emerald sparkles as I tilt it into the light. The piece is classic, and just as beautiful now as it was then.
I glance back at that damn jar and think about my day with Logan at the group home.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, rattling the sand mixture as I turn it over.
A dream, you idiot, it seemingly whispers.
“Oh, yeah? Well, if you’re so smart, then what’s the difference between a dream and a wish?”
Because the way I see it, one’s a fantasy while the other’s a letdown.
“My dream is for the home to never close, and for Ricardo and Dorthea to always have the means to provide for children in need.”
That’s their dream, not yours, the jar whispers haughtily.
“For an inanimate object, you sure have a bad attitude.”
I wait for another smart remark, but it’s gone silent.
“Dammit. This is one of those self-reflection things, isn’t it?”
When it warms beneath my palms, I casually slide it across the counter and pat the lid. “Oh-kay, that’s enough of that for the evening.”
I spot two shells–one blue and one purple–snuggled on top of the sand, and I’m reminded of Logan’s claim that I’m his dream.
I’ve tried convincing myself that everything he says is a lie, but resisting him is like rowing a boat with a hole too wide to patch. It fills and fills with water, no matter how hard I work to prevent it, and I know I’m going to drown, but my fate is inevitable.
I twirl his grandmother’s ring around my finger.
He said I was holding back, and he’s right. As long as Silas stands in our way, I can never fully trust him. But I’m also confused, torn, and dear god, I can’t stop thinking about what he did to me in the back of that car.
Our bodies touching, mouths clashing, and hands roaming… An agonizing burn blooms in my center when I remember what it felt like to give in. What it felt like to be praised and revered as a woman of worth.
