Page 7 of Rockland

Now more than ever. Her grief has done the impossible—made her more difficult than she already was. And even more disgusted by my presence.

Never mind though, I’ll do what I have to do to get her through this day. For other women, that would mean a shoulder to cry on. A few gentle words of sympathy. An escort to the celebration.

Not Tess.

That woman needs strict boundaries. Ones that earn her a harsh punishment when crossed. The easiest way to get her through this day would be by me reddening her ass. Relieving her of her emotional weight through pain and tears. But alas, I can’t. As much as I want to take that hellcat over my knee and spank some sense into her, I won’t.

It would be highly inappropriate of me.

Though I want to. Badly.

She’s sick with grief. And she needs time to heal.

But just as I’m convincing myself that doling out a good old-fashioned spanking is not my place today, the memory of her ripping my sword from her neck and throwing it to the ground flashes in my mind and my palm begins to twitch.

Someone needs to teach that little girl a lesson in respect.

I’m not the only one of this opinion. At the service, after her little show, there was unspoken command that flashed in Bronson’s eyes. Get her under control for all our sakes.

And I will. I’ll be firm with her. It’s easy with Tess—I always know what she needs. It only took one squeeze of my hand on her knee to make her bite her sharp tongue. I’ll keep her under control. Make sure she doesn’t lose it and do or say something she’ll regret later. She must be strong for the Village. For she is not the only one grieving the loss of the great man that was my brother.

My own unshed tears are buried deep within me. I park the car. Cut the engine.

I’ll help calm her. Get her ready for the family event. Guide her through it.

Then I’ll leave.

With any luck, I’ll never have to come back.

Except for the little fact I’ve seemed to forget, until just this moment when we’ve arrived at her front door.

Every year for the next three years on the day of the anniversary of Brett’s death, there will be a memorial for my brother.

And I’ll have to be in attendance.

Celebrating his life. And caring for his widow.

2

ONE YEAR LATER

Tess

The little fucker just arrived in the Village.

It’s the day of my husband’s memorial—it’s been one year since my beloved Brett died. And instead of spending my day alone, mourning, I’ll spend it annoyed to be escorted by Rockland.

Today he’s standing in front of a brand-new red Mercedes, leaning against it like he hasn’t got a care in the freaking world. Still with the same bad boy look. The beard tightly trimmed, the dark glasses covering those liquid pools of gold that so love to shoot venom at me.

He hasn’t aged over this past year. If anything, he’s even tanner and more muscular than before—if that’s possible. He stands with that smug, self-satisfied look pasted across his chiseled face. Wanting to get this day over with as quickly as possible, as do I.

Again, like at the burial, I know I need him. And it makes me hate him all the more. I brush past him, my white dress hanging from me, loose after all the weight I’ve lost in the past year. I’ve had no appetite whatsoever.

I get into his car. Allow him to close my door for me. Wait for him to take his seat before I unleash my wrath. He’s starting the engine when the words begin flowing from my mouth.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? I haven’t seen you in a year and you can’t even manage to mutter a greeting to me? I don’t know how you do things on that deserted island of yours, but here in the Village, we have manners. We actually⁠—”

“Tess?”