Page 59 of Keeping Kasey
“Set up a meeting with Mr. Romano for Tuesday afternoon.”
James watches me with the same contemplative look from earlier, like he’s waiting for me to take it back—like he was banking on it.
When I don’t, he asks, “Are you sure?”
Not at all.
“Set it up,” I say instead.
With one last glance at my phone, I sigh and shove it back into my pocket.
It’s almost midnight when I pull up to the manor.
It took James, Matteo, and me hours to do damage control.
We had to rearrange soldier assignments—to cover us until my meeting with Romano—communicate those changes to our men, and fully compensate the families of the three men who lost their lives.
I’m exhausted, and I’m pissed off.
Every time we’re sabotaged, I’m vividly reminded of the greatest failure of my life.
Mason.
I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve stopped him long before he could cause the catastrophic damage that he did. I should’ve protected our family.
Mason’s ambition was constantly a source of argument, but I never imagined he’d take things so far.
And I should have.
I don’t bother parking the Aston Martin in the garage with my other cars and instead leave it parked outside the manor. Usually, I’d never leave my car vulnerable to the elements, but tonight, I don’t care.
There’s only one thing on my mind when I put the car in park, and she better be waiting for me.
I’m through the door and up the stairs in record time.
With every step, the heat radiating from my chest eases, and my breathing steadies. The anticipation brings a smile to my face when I finally get to her door.
I reach for the handle but freeze just before touching it. My eyes drop to the crack at the bottom of the door.
The lights are off.
Of course the lights are off.
I retract my hand as it balls into a tight fist.
Why had I thought she’d wait for me? What about Kasey’s cavalier attitude has ever indicated that she’d stay up for me to get home?
I realize—with bile crawling up my throat—that Kasey didn’t struggle with the distance the same way I did.
She didn’t snap at everyone she talked to. She didn’t lie awake at night with unsatisfied fantasies running rampant through her head. She didn’t have to fight off the temptation of sayingscrew itto all the work she had so that she could get home to me sooner.
The realization stings like acid seeping into my skin, and I prefer it to the weight of this embarrassment.
I am the boss of the Consoli family, and I do not wait around for the attention of anyone—let alone some self-serving, abrasive menace.
As I turn on my heels and walk to my room, I look forward to my meeting with Mr. Romano for the first time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
