Page 90 of The Promise

“What does this have to do with the personality disorder?”

“Cluster B characteristics,” she answered simply. “Your attacks have been violent, calculating, manipulative, and unrepentant.” She shook her head, apologetically almost. “Jas, I don’t believe you fit the bill for an antisocial personality disorder. What you displayed at the time of the analysis is one thing, but the man I’ve been engaging with all these years hasn’t exactly presented with psychopathic or sociopathic features. You’re just a man needing tools to carry out healthy relationships. You and Ashira… You two finding stable footing in your mandatory relationship—”

“I said Ashira can go do her. Who says it’s mandatory?”

“Chivon. As long as she’s alive, your relationship with her mother is mandatory. To which degree is up to you and Ashira. But finding stable ground is conceivable if you can receive those two elements.”

My chin dropped to my chest, and I mumbled, “Peace and acceptance?”

“Yeah. Often with men, it’s difficult to admit to such simple needs. It makes some of them feel soft or childish.” She shook her head. “Providing emotional support can go a long way for men and women…the person giving it and receiving. It makes for a balanced and healthy space.” She nodded again, eyes bouncing around as she thought. “I think a man of your confident nature can not only achieve this, but you can set the ground for it to be as well.Youset the atmosphere by giving Ashira those two elements—even when it’s difficult to—and watch her, perhaps, subconsciously fall in line.”

She gave me a moment for my reaction. This was a lot. It was therapy, too: fucking work.

Letting out a breath of contention, I admitted, “I mean, it sounds good, but…”

What the hell else could I say?

She winked. “Let’s go over some scenarios? Huhn?”

I took another deep breath and shrugged.

ChapterFifteen

Part III

June | Three Years Later

“Mr. Sinclair,” my administrative assistant called from the door of my office. I sat back from my desk, dropping the design plans I’d been working on. “Mrs. Witherspoon.”

After a nod, she pushed the door open farther, and in came the ever-beautiful Celestine Witherspoon. She looked regal and smelled like wealth, as usual, I learned when I stood to greet her.

“Hey, Celestine,” I offered during our hug.

“My, my, my,” she breathed, eyes sweeping my office. “Noel didn’t have this fancy or operational-level of digs so soon into his building career.”

Although I may not have shown it, I took pride in my office building. It was finally complete, and my staff and I were moved in and settled. It was a forty-three thousand square feet, three-story property on three-point-seven acres of land. A facility where I could be fully operational, primarily for my building firm, but also for real estate I now invested in,Por el Amor del Amor, andChâteau Blevin. All of my companies had been performing exceedingly well and had to be given a dedicated space where I could tend to them professionally. This property had been my biggest investment yet.

“And the parking lot, my dear,” Celestine cooed. “You have actual attendants out there. I didn’t know if I were atDiFillippo’sor your place of business.”

I offered her a seat on the sofa in the sitting area. Celestine followed, ensuring not to lose a single detail of the décor.

“I’m glad you get to see the place. Chivon wants to have a sleepover in the lounge downstairs,” I joked.

“I can see why. This place is state-of-the-art, Jas. I couldn’t be more proud.”

That comment was striking, causing my face to tighten with a smirk. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Celestine nodded, a little too much for too long, without looking me dead in the eye. I could tell something was up.

“So, you and Noel…” I didn’t know how to phrase it and really didn’t give a damn about their personal lives, but had been hella curious about Celestine being in Jersey since April, which I had been aware of.

She made a shoo’ing gesture, rolling her eyes, and still was unable to look me in the face. “We have a long road ahead.”

“But…”

Celestine shrugged and pretended to pluck lent from her blouse. “There’s no but.” Her chin lifted, and she squared her shoulders. “I—we—have a family. Chivon. She’s been here, and I’ve been down in Brazil, sulking in all my disappointments of a failed marriage.”

“So, you’re back? For good?” I clarified.

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