Page 18 of Freeing Denver
He sighs deeply. “I didn’t deal well. I dumped my real name on her and left.”
“Axel …”
“I know, but I had no choice. I needed to get home, and she was more bothered about whether you were coming to the wedding. She hasn’t called. I don’t think she will.”
I place my hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“Honestly … I’m not. I think I was so desperate for normality that I overlooked a lot of shit going wrong between us. It’s probably for the best.” He takes my hand and focuses on my fingers. “Me being here doesn’t mean I forgive him for what he did to you.”
My smile is gentle. “I know that, Ax. You do what you have to. There’s no judgment from me.”
I kiss his cheek. Ranger stands at the end of the hall, arms folded, watching us.
“Thursday,” I say to him, and he gives me a singular nod.
We leave, rejoining Alistair and Taf in the lobby. Without Axel with us, Alistair chooses to drive back with me.
My heart is heavy. My shoulder aches. I need pain relief, a bubble bath, and bed.
But there’s still too much to do.
“I assume he agreed.”
I stare out the window. “He did.”
“Good. One less thing to deal with. Is he coming to the funeral?” he asks, and I nod. “You’ll need to be on your game that day. Convincing. Strong. You can’t?—”
“Alistair, my patience with you is constantly fraying, but today, it’s non-fucking-existent,” I say, turning my head to him. “This is the only conversation we’ll be having for the rest of the day, so allow me to say a few things. I know what’s expected of me. I know who to talk to and how to act. I will do as I’m told. But if you ever, and I meanever, question my loyalty to Colt and this family in front of Ranger or anyone else again, I will bring holy hell down on you. Do you understand?” Our eyes are locked, and I refuse to look away. “I just asked the man who took everything from me for a favor. If that doesn’t prove what this family means to me, then I give up.”
I return my attention to the scenery beyond the window.
Alistair says nothing for the rest of the drive.
Chapter 4
Denver
I’ve shaken so many hands this morning that I’m close to tears from the pain. My shoulder was easing after a few days of rest, but now it may as well have been torn from the socket again. It’s still another thirty minutes before the funeral begins, but the church is already busy. We’re outside waiting for Ranger, somewhere I’d usually avoid given that reporters are hungry for a good photograph, but Alistair said it was better to have evidence of my place by his side.
Lewis is behind me. Taf is behind Alistair. One by one, we greet some of the most powerful people in New York, legitimate and otherwise, and each one has asked about my absent husband.
Alistair leans close to my ear. “You said he was coming.”
“He’ll want to make an entrance,” I respond, eyeing the front of the church, where Helena is with Colt’s mom.
A rush of camera flashes has us all looking out of the church doors. A sleek town car has arrived, and the reason for the desperate attempts to grab a photo is the man who gets out.
My husband.
Dressed in a black designer suit, his white shirt crisp against the black tie, Ranger steps out of the car like he belongs. Axelis close behind, and their resemblance is so striking that I’d be surprised if it wasn’t their image splashed across social media tonight and not mine and Alistair’s.
Ranger whispers something to Axel, and he nods. Security almost drowns them as they stride past the press and up the pale steps to the church.
“A fucking entrance,” Alistair says. “You Luxes piss me off.”
“Good,” I mumble, and he throws me a dark look as Axel reaches me. I hug him, breathing him in. “Thank you for coming.”
“The least I can do. He was technically my great-uncle, right?”
