“Ugh. I’d prefer a lasagna alla bolognese.”
She snorts. “Elitist.”
We’re nearly in my car when I deadpan, “That’s literally a fifty-dollar dish.”
“I don’t trust you rich fuckers,” she huffs, sliding into the passenger seat. “Chhole bhature. Any day.”
I shake my head, knowing full well I’ll be havinganotherIndian dinner with Amelia Gill—née Desmond.
THIRTEEN
Levi
My mind wouldn’t stop racing.
On one hand, I’d kind of suspected this. But hearing it confirmed? That was a different ballgame entirely.
The Presidential Takeover Clause was pitched to me as a generational rite of passage, something all heirs went through. A tradition. A formality. Now, it feels like a con.
I never questioned it. I wasn’t even planning to worry about it until the last year of my five-year probation. But then I met Cece.
It was only the end of my second year as the president, and something shifted. Suddenly, I didn’t want to wait two more years. She was everything I wasn’t expecting, and everything I couldn’t stop wanting.
Witty. Unafraid. Graceful and bold in equalmeasure. She met pressure with poise, and still held on to her softness.
Christ.
And now my parents—
“…they’re doing it again…” taking someone away because she doesn’t fit their agenda.
Even with Cece gone—not that I ever want to lose her—I technically still have two years left to find someone else who meets the clause. But let’s be real. I know they’ll keep interfering until I fail.
“…shit… they don’t want me to take over…” they want to keep operating in the shadows, running their dirty little schemes under the Astor name.
They couldn’t stop my ascension to the presidency—but they’re clawing for control in every insidious way they can. The clause wasn’t even a tradition. It was the perfect trap. A slow sabotage. Something they planned to exploit.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
“…then why…” Why let me propose to Cece at all? Why pretend to support it—only to backtrack now?
I know the fucking answer. But I don’t want to believe it. Even though I have to. BecauseI do.Even without the proof Sebastian is currently gathering. And if they’re capable of this, capable of blatantly threatening me, and even physically hurting Cece—
“Levi,” comes a soft whisper.
It yanks me back to the present. I blink hard, dragging myself out of the mental spiral I’ve been caught in. My jaw tenses as the reality in front of me sharpens into view.
Iris.
Staring up at me with something akin to concern.She’s close. Too close.
It takes me another second to register the feel of her hands gently resting on my shoulders. And I snap.
My hands shoot up, wrapping around her wrists as I take a massive step back. Untangling myself from something that seemed too much like an embrace I didn’t invite.
My pulse spikes. My mind’s still racing, but I need to get a grip. Need to deal withthisfirst—one thing at a time.
“What—what are you doing?” I ask, my voice low but firm.
