Page 104 of With This Kiss
And no matter how much I thought about it, I just couldn’t figure out what was important enough for Caine to make such a drastic move.
Was Dad really the bad guy in this scenario, or my brother? And to some extent, Reign?
22
JAMIE
Reign would not be happy to know where I ran off to.
Before he left the apartment this morning, he told me that I wasn’t to leave it.
I had wanted to bite him when he said it, but since I was just too tired to argue and fight with him, I let him leave the apartment thinking I had agreed.
I didn’t.
I looked up at Osteria Luigi, one of the Italian restaurants in the heart of Manhattan, owned by my father’s men.
Dad was here for a meeting, or to show off his power and his hold on the city, with some politician or police captain—I wasn’t sure.
I just knew he was here for lunch, and I was hit with the urge to see him.
To somehow remind myself that the man Caine hated didn’t exist, and instead, it was just…
It was just my father, and that was all.
But now that I was here, I hesitated.
What if I was wrong?
Or worse, what if Caine was wrong?
I didn’t even know anymore.
And I had just lost all my nerve.
I pivoted around and was about to leave when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Dad standing there, a small frown marring his face. He wasn’t alone.
Great. It was just my luck, wasn’t it? I had set out to see him, after all.
“Jamie, what are you doing here?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry, even as I forced a fake smile.
“Dad.” My eyes moved over to the man he was standing next to—an average man with brown eyes, brown hair, fair skin, and a thick, dark beard that covered half his face. He was about four or five inches taller than me and was strongly built.
“Hi,” I said politely.
The man’s eyes glimmered in a way that I didn’t like. I hated it even more when he moved in closer to me, reaching out and touching my shoulder gently. The feeling of ants crawling over my skin intensified, and it took everything in me not to shake off his touch.
“Ah, so you’re Jamie. Your father is always talking about you.”
“He does?” I was surprised. Why would Dad have any reason to talk about me to anyone?
He nodded. “I’m not surprised. If I had a daughter as beautiful as you, I would be talking about her to anyone and everyone.”
What an…oddthing to say.
I smiled and nodded.
