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“She’s claimed me too.”
Exhaustion sets in, and I’m finished playing games with this moron. “You meet her once and think you’re getting married?”
His head shakes. “Not once. I’ve spent numerous evenings with her at my club. But when she brought your fiancée with her tonight, I expected her to tell you about me. I wanted to discuss with you directly rather than through Addie’s report.”
She didn’t say a word.
Not a damn fucking word.
Addie knew about Chels and didn’t tell me.
God damn it.
Maxim studies me, waiting for a response. Fuck that. He can wait until he’s dead. I stride to my vehicle, and Dennis hustles out of the front seat to open my door.
“Gallo!”
Rage vibrates in Maxim’s voice. He should be grateful I didn’t shoot him. I’ve got more important things than to deal with him.
As soon as I climb in the SUV, I nod to Baxter. “Go.”
The wheels scream on the concrete as we race past Maxim staring at us like the dumb fuck he is. No wonder my sister likes him.
Addie
Mrs. Zirkelbach hums a cheerful tune while she brews coffee in some kind of fancy espresso machine that has more buttons on the touch screen than apps on Chelsea’s phone. The housekeeper doesn’t seem angry though that she’s stuck making breakfast for us at five a.m. Maybe they always get up this early around here. Or stay up this late. I’m not even sure. I’m too exhausted to think straight.
I keep shoving bites of scrambled eggs into my mouth while watching Chels try to create designs on her peanut butter toast with a tiny wooden dipper coated in honey. Despite her earlier tears, she seems calm now.
Until the boom reverberates through the first floor from the front door slamming.
The music stops.
The decorating stops.
My heart stops.
It’s time.
Chelsea slowly looks up from her food and her mouth opens. Although she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. We both know what must be done.
I stand up and hold out my hand. My confidence seems to stir bravery in her. She hops up too and grabs my fingers, squeezing in solidarity. “Come on. We’ve got this.”
We’re soundless heading to Titan’s office except for the squeak from the rubber soles of her daisy slippers on the hardwood. She giggles from the obnoxious sound until I glance at her. Remembering she’s supposed to be poised and focused, she stops laughing and smooths her expression.
Neither of us enters the room when we reach the doorway. For some reason, I feel like I can’t go in until he approves. I don’t think Chelsea worries about these things, so she must be really scared not to just burst inside.
Titan sits at his messy desk with a small tumbler in his gigantic hand. He never looks at us. His gaze remains on the drink until he throws his head back and gulps the alcohol down in one huge swallow. That’s a lot of booze. Something must be wrong. Maybe this isn’t the right time.
When he looks up and our eyes meet, I know for absolute certain, this isn’t the right time. Fury burns in his dark eyes. His gaze remains locked with mine. “Get the fuck out of here Chels. I’ll deal with you later.”
Shivers engulf me from his low tone. He’s too mad to yell. I have no idea what’s happened, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.
Chelsea doesn’t seem to care about the rage sweltering in him. From his disrespectful address to her, she drops my hand and balls her fists on her hips. “We want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Go to your room.”
That’s wrong. I know she has issues but she’s not a child who can be grounded. Before I can protest, he lifts his chin and calls out, “Take her upstairs.”
