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She then said something I wasn’t expecting: “What do you want?” When I didn’t say anything at first, she repeated, “What do you want for bringing this to me? Surely there has to be something. No one does things out of the goodness of their own heart in Cypress.”
“I only want my father and Rocco out of the running.”
“As much as I agree with you, that’s not something I can promise. However, we will take their… potential blackmail into consideration. But I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you, Giselle. What do you want?”
That was a loaded question, and it had an equally loaded answer. The simplest, perhaps, was, “I don’t know.” The more complicated answer: “I want a divorce. I want to be able to do what I want to do, not what my father wants and not what my new father-in-law wants. I want to live, Shay.”
“That’s a tall order for a girl who lives the life you do.” She glanced down at my gloves. “Tell you what. I can’t help you with your divorce, but if something pops up that I can help you with, give me a call. As much as I hate owing people, I owe you for bringing this to me.”
Having Shay owe me a favor wasn’t the worst thing in the world to have. I could accept that. This gave her and Atticus time to plan out their defensive strategy against my father and Rocco; at least they wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Not that there was anything they could do—Nixon’s genetics were his genetics, and there was no changing them.
I got out of the booth. “I have to go. Good luck with… with everything.” I didn’t wait for Shay’s answer, instead turning and heading to the metal stairs. Down I went, and soon enough I was out of the club and back in the bright light of day.
I called Zander on my way back to the restaurant. He picked up on the second ring. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m in my car, going over yesterday’s recordings,” he said. “I figured there might be something since you and I were out of the house, moving, most of the day. But so far, I haven’t found shit.”
“I just met with Shay.”
He was silent for a few moments. “How did it go?”
“Good. I told her what I needed to. I… I think you should know what I learned last night, too.” Zander didn’t push me, though I could tell he was dying to know. He didn’t like being kept in the dark, and that wasn’t something I blamed him for. I’d hate it, too. “Nixon is Atticus’s son. He’s not a true Hawke.”
“What? You’re—you’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Shit. Miguel hasn’t said anything about that to me—”
“Probably because he knew you’d tell me, and that begs the question of why Rocco said anything during dinner yesterday.” I thought back. “He made sure I knew.”
Now that I was thinking about it, it didn’t make sense. Why would Rocco say that to me last night? He didn’t know me, and he couldn’t just assume my loyalty because I was legally married to his son.
“Speaking of last night, how did it go?” Zander asked.
I turned the block, spotting the restaurant down the street. I couldn’t see the parking lot, but I didn’t have any texts yet from Luca, so I still had some time. “It was fine.” Of course, I wanted to tell Zander about how Rocco had threatened me, how he’d mentioned he liked them younger than I was.
But I couldn’t. I kept that tidbit to myself, knowing Zander would get all riled up on my behalf.
“I wish… I wish I could see you right now,” he whispered, the longing in his voice plain as day. “It hasn’t even been one day and I’m going crazy.”
I’d invite him over to the suite, but I knew if Rocco came home and saw Zander hanging out with me, he’d flip his shit and accuse me of not being faithful to his son. I mean, I wasn’t exactly the model wife—being faithful to Luca wasn’t something I cared about. My heart was currently being tugged in a bunch of different directions by a bunch of different men.
“I miss you, too,” I spoke into the phone. “I, uh, I have to go, Zander. But I’ll text you later, okay?”
“All right. Don’t keep me in the dark, Giselle.”
My lips curled into a smile, and I promised nothing as I hung up the phone. I went into the restaurant, ordered something to drink, and took a seat as I waited for Luca’s text. I didn’t know what would come of me going to Shay, but I knew I had to be ready for the unexpected.
Days went by. I tried to do some digging during our dinners—the only time I really saw Rocco, thank God—but Rocco was tight-lipped about whatever was going on with the Black Hand. I didn’t know if he and my father had already gone to Atticus with the blackmail or not, but I assumed if it had happened, I’d have heard about it from someone.
Zander swung by a few times, though we didn’t have any private time thanks to Luca lurking around, trying to wrestle with his jealousy. I also took a trip to the church to visit Ezekiel, telling him that we’d have to figure something else out if we wanted to continue our sessions together. I didn’t see Damian at all, though, and I didn’t see Cade. A part of me didn’t want to.
The last time I’d seen Cade, I’d told him that I didn’t want to get married, that I wouldn’t. Though it wasn’t my idea, and I hadn’t gotten married by my choice, I still felt guilty. It wasn’t like I owed him anything, but… but Cade was my dragon man. He was the one who’d helped me break apart the prickly shell I’d built around me after that night three years ago.
So, one day I told Zander to find Cade and bring him to me, if he could. I wasn’t expecting much, but it was one particularly gloomy day when I was sitting in front of the TV, watching something mindless with Luca, that Zander called and told me he’d found Cade. They were both on their way here.
I thanked him and hung up. Luca sat less than a foot away from me, and yet I still felt like I had to get up and pace the room. He’d kept his word, not touching me, not making me do anything I wasn’t ready for; he was still sleeping on the floor, for God’s sake.
