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36
HUDSON
“Who is Ian Humphrey?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The name feels heavy on my tongue, like a tightly coiled snake waiting to strike.
Benedict’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Ian Humphrey,” he repeats, his deep voice laced with concern and confusion. His eyes, usually so full of laughter and mischief, are now dark and serious. It’s clear he wants to understand what’s happening, to make sense of this new piece of information that has been dropped into our lives like a bomb.
The low hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen, where the dim light casts shadows on the walls. I can feel the tension thickening the air as Antonio’s face hardens, his jaw clenched.
“He’s Harper’s ex-fiancé—an abusive piece of shit who’s still after her. He’s the one who spread those rumors about her cheating.” Antonio’s voice is low, dangerous, ready for the kill. I’ve never seen him like this before.
And I’m right alongside him, as the weight of his words reaches my brain. “Abusive?” I repeat. “Harper never told me that.”
“Probably didn’t want you to see her differently.”
I grit my teeth. “But she told you?” A part of me is jealous that she confided in one of the other men.
“Let’s focus on the important things here,” Benedict says, trying to keep us on track and away from another fight. “He’s the kids’ dad?”
“Yep,” Antonio answers.
“I’m guessing he’s not fighting for custody because he wants her back?”
“That would be my guess.” Antonio nods.
“Fucking psychopathic control freak,” I growl. “He’s not getting her back. Over my dead body.”
“Of course not,” Benedict says. “That’s not an option.”
“Her mother mentioned something about her being a cheater,” I say, recalling the tumultuous day we spent getting her kids back.
Antonio takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his rage. “Yeah, well, Ian’s made sure to paint her in the worst possible light just because she had the guts to leave him. He’s dangerous. We need to protect her from him.”
The dim glow from the kitchen light casts shadows on Antonio’s face, highlighting the firm set of his jaw. His eyes blaze with a fierce intensity that both scares and comforts me.
“Damn it,” he growls under his breath. “We can’t let Ian come anywhere near Harper or the kids. I swear, if he even thinks about touching her…” His voice trails off, but the message is clear—violence would not be out of the question.
Honestly, he doesn’t have to touch her again for me to want to teach him a lesson.
“None of us wants him around,” Benedict assures us. “But we have to stay focused and calm. We need a plan. He’s a politician, so building some kind of case against him is going to be hard.”
“Right.” Antonio rubs his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. “Tomorrow, I’m going to start digging into Ian’s past. Find out where he’s been, who he’s associated with. Maybe I can figure out what he’s up to, where he might be now.”
“Good idea,” I say. “You’ll let us know anything we can do?”
“Yes. For now, though, I need to call it a night. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.”
“Get some rest,” I tell him. “And Antonio?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for being there for her.”
He lets out a breath. “You’re not the only one who cares.”
Antonio leaves the kitchen while Benedict claps his palm against my shoulder. “I think I’m going to call it a night too. It’s late, and if we’re going to do everything we can to help her, we can’t be sleep-deprived, so don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.”
