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“He’ll get over it,” Easton says.
I sigh. “Well, anyway, tell Charlotte I said hi. And don’t worry about me, okay?”
“I will. And don’t forget, you can come over anytime you want,” Easton replies. “The door is always open.”
I smile. “Thanks. That means a lot. I’ll drop by soon.”
I lower my phone and end the call, but Luca is looking at me like he means business, and it’s freaking me out. “What?”
The car stops, and he parks it right in front of his parents' car. “We’re here.”
Luca
* * *
“I don’t understand why we have to be at this godforsaken house,” my father growls as we stand on the porch and wait for someone to open the door.
“I haven’t been here in so long,” Jill says, gulping like she’s afraid of her own family. “I didn’t actually expect to ever be back here.”
“I hope I never have to fucking come back here,” my mother complains, throwing her hair back.
“Does that mean I won’t be able to see my sister ever again either?” Jill suddenly asks.
My parents look at her like she’s a fucking traitor for even saying it out loud, but I understand. She and her sister have a very close bond.
“You can see her whenever you want,” I say, and I throw a look at my parents too. “And your parents too.”
She smiles and looks up at me. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Grabbing her hand, I bring it to my lips, pressing down a soft kiss. “Trust me.”
She rubs her lips together, trying to hide a smile. “You know it’s hard for me to say no when you look at me like that.”
My brows rise. “I know. Perks of being a devil boy.”
My father frowns and opens his mouth, but then the front door opens, and the moment is gone.
“Welcome,” the maid says, opening the door wide.
My parents seem confused she was expecting us all, but I had Jill contact her in advance and keep it a secret.
“Well … so nice to see you all here.” Mrs. Baas’s voice makes us both look up. She’s holding a plate of what looks like freshly baked cookies in her hands. “C’mon, let’s sit and talk in the living room.”
As Jill follows her mother, I stay behind and point a finger at my parents. “Behave.”
“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that, you piece of—”
My dad’s violent coughs take over, and he grabs another napkin from his pocket and spits something into it. More blood.
“I don’t think you’re in the position to make the damn rules anymore,” I retort. “So unless you want to watch your goddamn empire being burnt to the ground, I suggest you calm the fuck down and actually give this a fucking chance. You want me to take over the company? Then you’ll let me run the show the way I fucking want to.”
They both look at me like they want to burn me at the stake, but I don’t care.
I know my priorities. It’s about time I used theirs to my advantage.
“Now be nice to her parents and just sit down and have a nice cup of fucking coffee,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. “She’s my wife, and they’re her fucking family.” I look at my mom in particular. “You wanted me to be nice. This is me being nice.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Fine. Let’s go.” She barges right past me with that snooty look on her face, her perfume leaving a trail down the hall as she throws her scarf around her neck.
“You’d better know what you’re doing,” my father growls in that low tone of his.
“I do, so sit down and listen for once in your goddamn life,” I respond.
He grunts but still steps forward, shoving me out of the way.
Despite being a weak old man, he still has a lot of spite left inside him. Enough to destroy everything in his path. But I won’t let him.
We go into the living room where it’s chilly, and I don’t mean the fucking temperature. Hugo, Vera, and Jasmine sit on a couch on one side of the coffee table while Anne sits on the opposite one, far away from them.
“Have some coffee and a cookie,” Jill offers Anne, probably to shut her up. “My mom made them by hand.”
“Yes, Dad. We don’t want to offend the family, now do we?” I say, tilting my head at him. “Sit down and have a cookie.”
His face is so red he looks like a bomb about to blow, but I don’t fucking care as he sits down beside my mother anyway.
“So, to what do we owe this … pleasure?” Jill’s mom asks.
My parents throw me a look. The entire room is silent, and it’s very telling.
I beckon Jill to come over and sit on my lap. “I’m done with these fucking games, so I’m going to give it to you straight,” I tell the rest.
