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I already know that this will be my favorite place.
I make my way back inside, quickly checking out the bedrooms upstairs. Three spacious and modern style—all furnished and decorated to fit the overall theme of the house. I head back downstairs, checking the double door stainless steel fridge. Everything is stocked up, as though someone was tasked to make sure it was ready for my arrival.
I take out an iced-coffee and peek through the papers that are on the dark marble table. Figures after figures peer back at me.
I didn’t even know this much money could exist. Did every family have a trust account? Likely. Am I the only Dragavei left?
I lean back in my chair, overwhelmed. How could my mom have all of this money and allow us to live the way we did in Kiznitch?
Confused, I tuck everything away and pick up the credit cards, pushing them into my back pocket. Once I’m back upstairs, I hit dial on Brian again. I won’t be sleeping until I know where the hell Hope is and that she isn’t the person Killian hurt while we were in Kiznitch.
Brian answers on the fifth ring. “Saskia? We found her. She’s okay.”
“You found her?” I breathe out, leaning back on the chair. “Is she okay?”
“She will be okay. She had issues in customs, and they wouldn’t let her out of the country. She’s on her way back to the Keys now and said that she will call you.”
“That’s good! Okay, give her a hug from me when you see her.”
“I will.” His tone is normal, unnerving. Same old Brian.
“Bye!”
I hang up after being so overwhelmed. Massive sigh of relief, taking in my new bedroom with new, relaxed eyes. The master bedroom is classic and cold. Pure white walls, a floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooks the front of the house. An ensuite with a claw tub and rainforest shower. Everything is white and clean and unlived in.
After having a quick shower and finding the Egyptian black cotton towels, I slip into my new bed and drift to sleep.
It’s said that every single person will meet someone who will test them. When I say test them, I mean this one person is directly planted in that other person’s life specifically to test them. Saskia Dragavei is that person for me.
“How do you know what she told you is the truth?” King asks, sliding the glass of whiskey over to me.
We’re in his plantation house that’s on the property. I have one here, too, but rarely use it. When we’re not traveling, I’m back in New York. My dad would spend a lot of time there when I was a kid, taking me with him, so I found a deep connection to the city from a young age. As soon as I was eighteen, I purchased an apartment there. We don’t get much time off or away from this life, but when I do, I spend it there.
“Because Delila doesn’t talk shit.” I shoot back the whiskey and reach for the bottle, pouring another.
“True,” King agrees.
I swallow past the bile in my throat. I should have known. I should have been smarter. I should have known.
“What are we doing about it?” King asks. “Perse picks up on this shit and she’s already grilling my ass about your sudden change toward Sass.”
“So tell her.” I gesture toward the hallway with my glass. “Might make her understand more and stop fucking shoving past me every time she sees me. Bro code ain’t got shit on girl code. Chicks are feisty as fuck.”
King chuckles. “Nah, no way. I’m not bringing her into this. She’s too close.”
I understand why King wouldn’t want her involved. She is too close, not just to Saskia, but to me. She would inhale everything with her heart, not her brain.
King leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “And how do you feel about it?”
For the first time in all of my life, I don’t want to trick anyone into thinking that I’m telling the truth. “I feel fucked up about it, dawg.”
The amount of times that I’ve noticed Delila looking sad lately is around one-hundred. When I came into this, she was always so classy, prim and witty. Now, she’s like a shell of the person she once was.
“I thought I’d give you all an update on the dates that we are looking to go back on the road. I know that a lot of you are disappointed that we didn’t get to finish the international tour—”
“—we’re mainly wondering why it started in the first place?” Maya snaps. Only Maya would step to her mom like that.
Delila holds her stare. “We had our reasons.”
Maya rolls her eyes and stands, making her way out of the practice tent that’s set up in the middle of the oval field.
