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He buckled me in, and his scent, so typically Gabe, surrounded me.
I glanced back at the coffee shop as the door closed.
Liam was standing at the window watching us go with a look of puzzlement on his face.
Fiona stood outside, her eyes spewing fire.
Gabe followed my gaze with a contemplative expression before turning back to me with a cold, menacing smile on his face. “Nice new friend you have there. Talk to him again, and he will die.”
I scoffed at him, rolled my eyes, and shook my head at this absurd threat. But my heart was heavy.
We had been interrupted before we could even start our friendship.
Before I could even start this new life of mine.
But then Gabe grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him, and I immediately got lost in his intense gaze. “I finally found you.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach as Alessio—who hopped in behind the wheel—started up the engine, and drove us away into an unknown future.
CHAPTERFORTY-THREE
Ioccupied my hands with a tumbler of vodka on the rocks, and the monotonous hum of the private jet’s engines filled my senses as I watched Sophie out of the corner of my eye. She sat across the aisle—instead of facing me. And as if that wasn’t enough, she angled her body away from me as if my presence repulsed her.
The way she completely ignored me sent a surge of anger and frustration through my veins, but the sight of her stirred something deeper, an ache I had tried to forget for months now and hadn’t been able to shake off.
She looked frail. Had she lost weight, as well?
What was going on?
My head pounded like the relentless rhythm of a hammer—from the aftereffects and not unlike the rhythm of Craig Donnelly’s fists colliding with my face. I could still taste blood in my mouth, could still feel the pain as darkness consumed me.
After three days in a coma, the week, trapped in a hospital bed, had given me plenty of time to think.
To plan.
To decide.
To fuel my determination.
Sophie’s father might’ve believed that beating me to a pulp would be enough to keep me from Sophie, but he was wrong.
Dead wrong.
He should’ve finished me when he had the chance.
“Enjoying the view?” Alessio stopped at my seat and lifted a brow.
“Shut it,” I muttered, my jaw tight.
My brother smirked, then turned his back to me and leaned against Sophie’s seat, cutting off my line of sight.
Stronzo.
Who needed enemies when two little annoying brothers would do?
He knew how much I’d missed her. He was the first one I called when I released myself from the hospital, and in perfectly annoying little brother fashion, he demanded the truth before he agreed to meet me in Dublin.
So now he knew it all. Knew the struggle within me. And reveled in watching me in my current situation.
