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“He just said it was a misunderstanding. He apologized and said he won’t bother us again. That was it. He left with the Hawaiian.”

“You’re sure it was Makaio.”

“Same guy who carried in your luggage that first night? Yeah. There’s no mistaking that one.”

This has Lucian written all over it. He has to be the one behind this. Who else would send Makaio to return my mother?

“I don’t know what you did, but thank you. I know you’re not a fan of Jenny, but you saved your mom’s life today. You saved mine. I love ya, Isa.” Her voice is shaky again, like she might cry, which is my cue to cut the call short.

“Sure, sure. Love you, too. Look, um, send me a text later, to make sure all is still okay.” I still can’t wrap my head around this. Everything feels numb and spacey, but cold and tingly at the same time. Shock, maybe?

“I will. In the meantime, your mom’s gonna need some time to heal. I’m letting her stay a few days.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Okay, I’ll see you this weekend, hun.”

I click out of the call and close my eyes over tears of relief. My knees buckle beneath me, and I collapse to the floor, finally breaking down.

* * *

Humble pie was never my favorite flavor.

Swallowing back the relief and humiliation, I stand in the elevator, waiting for the doors to open on the third floor. Arriving unannounced is as frightening as having to ask the guy for help, but seeing as I held a blade to his throat a mere hour ago, this is probably the easiest thing I’ve had to do today.

The door opens at Lucian’s office, and just like when I arrived this morning, I’m greeted by the delicious scent of cologne and leather. A masculine aroma that naturally waters the mouth.

With his feet kicked up on the desk, Lucian is leaning back in his chair, watching me approach, a glass half full of what is probably liquor beside an actively burning cigarette he holds over the ashtray.

With the top of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loosened, the sight of him sends butterflies to my stomach, the way he watches me like a predator eyeing prey.

“I see your balls haven’t shrunk in the last hour.” He flicks his cigarette before taking a drag, never taking his eyes off me.

The comment brings a smile to my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my amusement. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

“You owe me more than that, as I recall.”

“The doll.”

“Rand is having a fuck of a time gluing its small hand back in place. Keeps falling off.”

A snort of laughter escapes me, and I slap a palm to my face and clear my throat. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome to take the cost of repair out of my wages.” Exhaling a shaky breath, I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see the shallow breaths of my anxiety. I’m convinced the guy feeds off fear. “My aunt contacted me to let me know that Franco returned my mother.”

Reaching forward, he grabs the drink from the desk and takes a sip. “And?”

“And he apologized. She said Makaio was with him, so I’m assuming you had a hand in that.”

“It’s possible. A lot of weird shit’s gone down today.”

Again, I find myself biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the urge to smile. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t know what you told him, or what you did, but I appreciate it.”

“Franco is a long-time associate of mine.”

A drug dealer? Why the hell would he be associated with a drug dealer?

“His family, I should say.” Something about his voice always carries an air of boredom. “He’s dabbled in some less than admirable hobbies, as of late. At any rate, he’ll no longer be an issue for you, or your family.”

Gaze glued to the floor, I breathe in the relief once again and nod. “I feel that I owe you something for all of this … mess.”