Page 15 of The Sculptor

Remington takes a menacing step forward, but Vance blocks him from proceeding with a hand to the chest. “Room five. Now.”

Without another word, Remington turns and disappears down the hall.

The silence hangs between us while Vance stands there, blocking the door. “I thought you got rid of the ring, Duke.”

It’s not a question.

“Why would I do that? It’s now an heirloom. Your future child might want it.” I try infusing humor into the conversation, but when Vance steps forward and closes the door behind him, I know it didn’t work.

“Give me the ring.”

“No.” Vance will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

“It’s not healthy for you to keep—”

Oh, for goodness’ sake. “I saw her.” I interrupt his lecture. I’ve heard it all before.

“What?” Vance’s eyes widen, and he pulls out a chair, settling in for an explanation.

“Two days ago, when I had the appointment with the congressman.”

I rake my hands through my hair. I’m a grown man. I don’t owe anyone—especially my brother—an explanation. But this—my past with Ramsey—didn’t just hurt me. Unfortunately, Vance and Astor were caught in the aftermath when everything went down. They didn’t need to get involved, but they did because we’ve always been there for each other.

“Congressman Albrecht?” Vance asks. “What he’d do? Have her chained up in the basement?”

He chuckles. Like me, he knows Ramsey.

I shut the drawer containing the ring. “No, she lives with him.”

Vance visibly twitches. “What do you mean, she lives there? Ramsey hates politicians.”

“Not this one.” I smile, but it lacks sincerity. “She’s marrying this one.”

Vance blows out a shocked breath and leans back, his gaze going to the ceiling. “Wow. I never thought Congressman Ford would follow through and force her to marry one of his buddies.”

I don’t admit that I think she’s up to something. People change over the years, but Ramsey would never budge on this. She would never marry a congressman—even if her father pressed her.

My Ray would run before she did something she didn’t want to.

Because she did once.

Unlike my post-senior year plans, Ramsey’s didn’t include a college education. Her future, per her father, was at a powerful man’s side.

His name was Albert. He was forty-eight years old.

“I’m sorry this brings up bad memories for you, brother.” Vance’s voice pulls my head up. “Maybe it’s time you got rid of the ring—especially now.” His tone is gentle, but if he knew I was texting Ramsey daily, he wouldn’t be so understanding.

“She’s not happy,” I argue. “I saw it in her eyes.”

“Yousawit in her eyes?” Vance scoffs and stands. “You sound like a kook. I’m afraid you only saw what you wanted to see, brother.” He comes around the desk and pats me on the shoulder. “She’s marrying someone else. Let her go. It’s time.”

I nod like I agree.

But it’s not that easy.

I’ve tried to move on—every fucking spring and summer, to be exact. Everyone at the office thinks it’s because I’m some playboy with commitment issues. And while it may seem that way, they should know every action has a scar behind it.

I attempt to move on every spring or summer because the pain of the fall and winter is suffocating. I would love to close my eyes and not see her smile, her hands roaming my body, her paintbrush tickling my chest as she paints her next masterpiece.

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