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Alessia flinches as if she’s been physically assaulted.

What the hell! Heath? Heath!

* * *

“Get out. Get out now.” Maxim is on his feet, and Alessia stands too.

They’re a show of force. Together.

His mother casts a superior, scornful eye over them both, but Alessia sees through her veil of detachment as Rowena swallows, her jaw strained; she’s wounded and hurt—rejected by both of her children—and she’s lashing out, especially at Alessia who’s an easy target. She’s already been at the bitter end of Rowena’s vicious tongue this evening.

“And you finally addressed me as mama,” Rowena whispers as she regards her son. “It was too much to hope that you might find some compassion for me.” She turns and waltzes out of the room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, echoing down the hallway until she exits quietly through the front door.

* * *

Compassion? For her?

And she knows! About our marriage because of Heath! Her fuckboy! Shit!

Alessia turns her elfin face to me, her eyes impossibly large, and I blow out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “You okay?” I ask, my heart beating at a furious pace, pumping adrenaline through my body, so I’m ready to fight or flee.

I’m ready to fight. But Rowena’s gone. Is Alessia going to fight?

She nods. “You?”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel after that… bombshell. I’m so sorry that you had to witness that and bear the brunt of her meltdown.” I drag a hand through my hair, trying to assimilate what’s just happened.

Kit was my half-brother.

Hell.

“I heard what she said. Did you know?”

“No. I’m stunned. My mother, a pillar of the establishment.” I take Alessia’s hand and pull her into my arms.

We stand dazed and confused in each other’s clutches for seconds… minutes—I don’t know—as I try to recalibrate my life from within this new prism. All I have is questions that I was too stunned to ask before she left.

Did my father know when they married?

Who was Kit’s father?

Shit.

Alessia pulls away, and I remember that she and I have yet to clear the air.

* * *

“Is this why you have been distracted?” Alessia asks as she tries to find some equilibrium.

“Yes. Caroline came to the office with the letters from Kit’s GP and a genetic counseling service.”

Alessia’s hackles rise, equilibrium lost, and she stiffens. For the life of her, Alessia does not trust Caroline. Even after the pleasant time they spent together today. She knows Caroline is in love with Maxim. Maybe she was always in love with him but married his brother for the title, wealth, and social standing.

Maxim regards her warily. “She needed to show me the letters. I told you.”

“She said she’s working with you. You didn’t tell me that.”

Maxim frowns. “No, not with me. For me, I suppose. Well, for the estate. Honestly, Alessia,” he huffs in frustration, “Caroline isn’t important. She’s the least of our issues right now. What is important was I thought that I might have a debilitating condition. I texted my mother to see if she knew anything about Kit. She wouldn’t talk to me. Until now.”

“And you didn’t tell me that either.”

Maxim closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. “No. I thought you’d leave me.”

It’s the third time this evening that Alessia’s felt winded.

Uau. How could he think that? “I would never leave you—”

* * *

“You did fucking leave!” I almost shout. “At the party, tonight. Without even a goodbye. Why?”

Her eyes cloud, and her face falls, her heartache writ large in the tension at her jaw. “But you…you…” she whispers, unable or unwilling to say it out loud.

My chest constricts. “The kiss?” Deep down, I know that’s what she’s trying to say. Alessia meets my gaze and gives me the same haughty look my mother gave us before she left. She’s hiding behind that look, protecting herself. I see that now, and it cuts me to the quick. “Charlotte was drunk,” I state. “She’s an ex-girlfriend, and for some bizarre reason, she threw herself at me. I was taken by surprise. She kissed me—not the other way round. I peeled her off me, sat her down, and came to find you. And you’d disappeared with fucking Grisha! Grisha!” Anger infuses my veins once more with heat. I step further away from her and run a hand through my hair, trying to hold on to my temper.

Fucking Grisha Egonov. Renowned arsehole. Possible underworld criminal.

“I saw the kiss,” Alessia says quietly. “I had to leave. Grisha helped me. He sent me home. He was kind.”

“He is not kind! You cannot trust him,” I snap and reaching out, I grab her and pull her into my arms. I want to shake her, but I don’t. “You put yourself in what could have been a dangerous situation. Why do you do this? Why do you run? You have to learn to confront me. I didn’t do anything wrong. And we could have sorted this out there and then.”

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