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Something.
Some vague recognition of a man I could call my father, some hint of humanity or just regret.
I don’t find either as I clear my throat and force myself to speak.
“Why did you let them?”
Montero finally looks away.
He’s hiding his face from me now, looking to the side. Maybe there’s the faintest human conscience in there somewhere, or he’s just annoyed at getting caught.
But it’s Lucia who answers confidently.
“Frankly, I’m glad they decided to do it this way. Big weddings are such work, and who am I to get in the way of my son’s happiness?” she purrs.
“Get fucked,” Grant says bluntly. “Call him right now. Keep calling him until he answers. That yacht better not leave the fucking docks. And you call the wedding off ASAP. That’s not a request.”
He turns sharply then, stalking away.
“Grant?!” I pelt after him.
“Let’s go,” he snarls. “It’s a three-hour drive to Wrightsville Beach.”
* * *
I’m completely exhausted,running on total willpower.
Little Nell’s still not picking up.
The last few hours have been a whirlwind from hell.
Constantly calling Nell and Ros while Grant coordinates with both Redhaven and Wrightsville PD officers. He’s also sent Lucas and Micah and Henri up to the big house to make sure the Arrendells follow his orders. They report back in when Aleksander still won’t answer his phone.
My fingers work the screen furiously between calls, messaging my sister again and again, begging for an answer.
He’s our brother! You can’t marry him.
Mom had an affair with Montero Arrendell and he’s our father.
Wherever you are, run! The police are coming. Whatever you do, don’t let him pressure you into anything.
This is so not how I wanted this travesty to go.
But I don’t have the luxury of time anymore.
There’s no breaking the news to her gently.
Not when this could breakherif he pushes her into going through with the unthinkable.
When that gets no response, I try Nell again, just as Grant swerves the truck onto the off-ramp for Wrightsville Beach. I’m just about to hang up and try again.
But the call picks up.
I jerk forward hard enough to snap the seat belt against my throat, gasping as someone sniffles out a whisper.
“M-Miss... Miss Philia?”
“Nell! Honey, where are you? Are you okay?”
