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“I don’t know if I have any rooms available.”
“Of course you do.”
Antonio rolled his eyes. Adrian always had been a self-assured bastard. He’d assumed some of his brother’s mannerisms; aloofness, professionalism, an air of confidence that made most people believe what he said. But now that he heard it tossed back at him, he had to wonder if he sounded that pompous.
“You wouldn’t turn away your pregnant sisters-in-law, would you?”
His eyes fluttered shut. Dear God, had they brought the whole damned family?
“Antonio?”
His eyes flew open at the sound of Isabella’s voice. Apparently, they had.
“Please may we come up?”
With a long-suffering sigh, he told Paul to bring them up. Minutes later, his brothers and mother crowded into his office. The room that had felt so large when he’d claimed it as his own shrunk as Adrian stalked to his desk, Alejandro tossed himself into one of the leather chairs, and Isabella walked around the room, her maternal curiosity making her stop and examine everything from the books on his shelves to the framed pictures.
“Where are Calandra and Everleigh?”
“Downstairs with Father,” Alejandro said.
“Father’s here, too?”
Could this day get any worse?
“What happened between you and Anna?” Adrian demanded, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward. A power move meant to intimidate. But Antonio had learned from the best. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers forming a steeple as he met Adrian’s dark stare.
“None of your concern.”
“It is when my little brother is ruining his life. Again.”
Anger surged through him and propelled him to his feet.
“Careful,hermano.” His voice turned to ice, even as his gaze flitted to Isabella. He didn’t want her knowing his shameful secret. He was the only man in this family who hadn’t caused her pain. To do so now, after so many years and when she was going through her own hell with her husband...
“I know.”
He froze then looked away. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see the disappointment, the hurt.
The rejection.
“How could you?” he managed to grit out. He had never once hit his brothers. But now his fingers itched to do just that.
“I didn’t.” Adrian nodded toward the door. “He did.”
Antonio’s head swung around, his pulse pounding so loud he couldn’t believe it didn’t echo off the walls of his office. A room that suddenly felt like a prison as William Tomàs appeared in the doorway.
The details he’d glimpsed at the wedding—the cane, the scar, the slight drag to his right foot—all sharpened with less than twenty feet between them. When William smiled, the scar stretched into a gruesome curve.
“Hello, Tony.”
Say something.
“William.”
William walked into the room. Shuffled, was more like it, each step intentional, the click of the cane on the hardwood floor deafening and damning.
“It’s been a long time.”
