Page 72 of Scandalous Lover

I would have loved to tell her. To tell anyone.

I bite my lip as tears swell in my eyes for the millionth time at the thought.

There’s no one left. Even my so-called best friend, the woman who I spent the last decade sharing everything with, turned out to be just as fair weather as the rest of them.

My phone, after years of being the melodic, disco-ball center of my universe, sits still and dark on my bedside table.

I shake it off as I reach the end of the short hallway that leads into the kitchen. I’m fine. This is going to be fine. It’s a tough period right now, but time will smooth things over.

Besides, I do have Fran. I just need to get to her.

I smile at the tiny rush of excitement that blooms in my chest at the thought of how thrilled she’s going to be by this new development.

Sam wants me as much as I want him. Even though the whole thing is complicated, seemingly impossible, he said the words.

“You’re looking awfully chipper this morning,” a gruff male voice says, wiping the smile from my lips.

“Morning,Dom.”

“I was just starting to wonder when you’d make an appearance.”

Anger flares in me hot and bright. “It’s not even eight o’clock. Are you seriously going to start this day by criticizing how late I slept?”

Dom holds up both hands in surrender, as if my defensive response was completely out of line.

“Good morning,” Reina’s singsong voice comes around the corner, and I look at her gratefully.

Maybe I can just ignore the guy. It’s worked fine for most of my adult life.

“Grab a cup of coffee and join us on the patio. We want to talk about a couple of things.”

I like the sound of that about as much as I’d like the idea of a trip to the gallows, but I don’t see any way around it.

I take my time stirring cream and sugar into my cup in the now silent kitchen before marching out to the patio like a woman on death row.

The two of them sit side-by-side in deck chairs facing me. Dom’s arms are crossed, his signature scowl in place. Reina’s hand rests on his forearm and she leans forward slightly, face kind and welcoming. I wonder for the millionth time what she’s doing with my brother.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” I joke as I settle into the chair one of them arranged directly across from where they sit.

Reina’s face softens and it looks like she’s about to speak, but Dom beats her to it.

“We just want to have a chat about what’s going on with you. What your plan is.”

This is more or less exactly what I expected, so I just sigh and shrug. “I’m just laying low for a bit and then I’m going to get my life back on track. I won’t be here forever.”

“That’s not what we’re worried about.”

I open my mouth and close it. If they aren’t concerned that they just gained a permanent house guest, then what is this?

“I’m just confused about what your plan is for the rest of your life.”

My eyebrows shoot up, but I say nothing. There’s no point. He’s just getting started.

“You’re thirty-two years old, still three years away from the stable income the trust is going to provide you.”

I bristle at the mention of the trust, something that’s been the topic of discussion at many, many family meals in our household growing up.

My grandparents built a financial empire capable of supporting us all for the rest of our lives. Hell, it could have supported a small country for a decade. But they were concerned their children and grandchildren would turn into a bunch of lazy, do-nothing people, like so many of their friends watched happen. So, they added stipulations to the trusts. Thirty-five or graduated with a master’s degree before you could access any of the fortune set aside for you.

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