Chapter 34
Chapter
Thirty-Four
RAFFAEL
Quinn strides into my boardroom in a tailored suit, hair pulled tight, every inch the self-appointed executioner. Isla trails behind her, softer, smaller, white blouse drowned beneath the cream blazer and skirt that hang off her like she’s shed twenty pounds of spirit.
It’s been three days of radio silence. My calls unanswered. My texts unopened.
Isla left me to stew in a slow boil of turmoil, losing my mind one hour at a time until a formal email broke the drought—Quinn requesting a meeting.
They sit side by side in front of my position at the head of the table, Quinn’s posture authoritative and refined while I internally bleed at how Isla’s structural integrity matches that of a wounded sloth.
Exhaustion clings to her features. The pallor of her skin a paler shade of her usual exuberance.
“Thanks for taking the time,” Quinn states firmly as if impersonating a high-priced lawyer. “As you know, we’re here to discuss terms regarding the current situation. I’ll be speaking on Isla’s behalf.”
“She can’t speak for herself?” I raise a brow, another nail hammering itself into my guilt-riddled coffin.
Isla keeps her gaze averted, denying me eye contact no matter how loud I mentally demand it.
“We’ve determined it’s best for all concerned if the conversation goes through me.” She smiles, fake and paper-thin. “Is there anything you’d like to say before we get started?”
I have a lot to say, all of which can’t be discussed in front of a third party, which I’m sure is exactly why Isla is accompanied by faux-corporate-law Barbie.
Quinn clears her throat. “In that case, I’m going to dive straight in and not sugarcoat this.
I’ve completed my due diligence, obtaining surveillance footage to link Eliseo to his crimes, and also documented what Isla went through, including photographic evidence of the bruising she obtained from sleeping on the cold floor as well as a written statement from a medical professional confirming she was exposed to pepper gas in a confined environment.
” She pauses. Sighs. “But it’s also been conceded that this situation shouldn’t become public knowledge.
Mainly for you and your family’s benefit, but also due to the way Isla would be perceived as a victim, and her newly appointed CEO authority undermined, if word spread about your brother’s actions. ”
The clip of her words annoys me. The fucking authority in a situation where she shouldn’t hold space.
But the pain emanating from Isla surpasses it all. I can’t tear my eyes away—can’t quit punishing myself with the sight of what I’ve done to her.
Quinn gives me a pointed look. “I’ll take your continued silence as understanding and move forward… What Eliseo did was a Class A-I felony which carries a mandatory sentence of life in prison. And although Isla recognizes her father’s debt doesn’t exactly allow for bargaining power—”
“Can we quit the sterile bullshit and talk candidly?” I cut her off. “As far as I’m concerned, Isla is in control here. She has all the bargaining power she wants.”
I’d say anything—give anything—to get that through to her.
“Good.” Quinn sits taller. “Because what Eliseo did is unforgivable and having him walk away unscathed isn’t an option.”
“He hasn’t walked away. He’s still locked in the basement of the town house.” Under the semi-watchful eye and no doubt mollycoddling of Michelo.
Isla stiffens. It’s subtle. A slight tightening of posture.
And I have no idea what the fuck it means.
Does she think I’m lying? Or does the reminder of the basement hit too hard?
“How do you want this to play out, Isla?” I ask. “Tell me how to make this right and I’ll do it.”
She continues staring out the window, torturing me with her silence.
“What we propose,” Quinn states, “is his continued incarceration, but under new management, somewhere with sustained viability.”
“New management?” A muscle ticks beneath my eye. “No. I’m not widening the scope on this.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” Quinn’s lips kick with smug superiority.
“Because it would be my pleasure to act as the guardian of his cage. In fact, we insist. What Isla proposes is that I make the decisions concerning every aspect of his punishment—what type of conditions he’s kept in, where he’ll be held, and for how long, etcetera, etcetera. ”
“At his expense,” Isla murmurs.
La mia reina finally chooses to speak, and her voice—threadbare but steady—lodges itself in my chest.
“I can agree to that.” I keep suffocating in the sight of her, despite the fact she still avoids my stare like the plague. “And if given the chance to explain, I would’ve told you I had no interest in letting Eli go unpunished. I wasn’t trying to—”
“Even if it’s determined that he never gets released?” Quinn interrupts.
I clench my teeth. Fight a glower. “I know Isla. I’ve had a firsthand account of how she holds a grudge. But I also understand her heart, judgment, and compassion. So if my brother can’t prove he’s worthy of a second chance then that’s on him.”
“It’ll cost a pretty penny to renovate the right space, not to mention the cost of my ti—”
“Quinn.” I struggle to keep my temper in check. “I don’t give a fuck about the finances. Can you give us a minute?”
“No.” She screws up her nose like I’ve asked for her banking password. “That’s not an option.”
“Make it one,” I bite out.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
Heat builds behind my sternum, a slow, pressurized swell. “For the sake of your freedom, I suggest you change her mind.”
Quinn raises her chin in defiance.
“I did my own due diligence,” I sneer. “And that stunt you pulled with the syringe is felony assault with a dangerous instrument. Or attempted assault in the first degree if my legal team wanted to sink their teeth. Are you willing to risk everything when all I want is five fucking minutes?”
Her lips thin. Eyes narrow.
A vindictive, cornered cover girl.
“It’s okay.” Isla places a hand on Quinn’s wrist. “I’ll follow you out in a minute.”
Quinn turns to her. “That’s not what we discussed. I’m not leaving—”
“I’ll be fine.” Isla jerks her head toward the door. “Go. This won’t take long.”
My blood pressure rises at the thought of privacy… just the two of us…
“Are you sure?” Quinn asks as if we’re at a fucking supermax and I’m the deadliest son of a bitch in the visitation room.
“Positive.” Isla nods.
Quinn slices a look my way as she shoves to her feet. “Behave.” She pushes back in her chair, stalks to the door, and walks into the hall.
The door clicks shut.
The air shifts—tightens—like the room inhales and forgets how to exhale. Being alone with her again knocks the balance out of me. I should feel relief. Instead, it’s as if I’ve stepped into the eye of the storm with no idea how to stop it from causing more destruction.
I press the button to frost the glass interior walls, giving us more privacy, and Isla flinches.
She’s jumpy. Rattled. Nothing like the woman who was once at home beneath my body.
“How are you?” The question scrapes out of me, soaked in desperation I can’t disguise.
“I’m alright.” She focuses on the building across the street. “Given the circumstances.”
I want to believe her but what sits before me isn’t alright. It’s threadbare. Diminished.
“Isla, I need you to understand—”
“Please…” Her almost silent plea slices through me. “Let’s just get the formalities sorted and move on.”
“Move on?” I stare at her profile, the fragile line of her jaw, the dark sweep of her lashes. “What does that mean?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then another.
The apprehension eats at me until I can’t sit still. I push to my feet.
She stiffens.
Fuck.
She’s wary of me. On guard. And that hurts.
I walk around the opposite side of the table until I’m almost in her line of sight, each step closer tightening the protectiveness coiled inside me.
But right before I’m about to catch her eye, she hangs her head, slipping a knife between my ribs.
“You hold me accountable for Eli’s actions,” I assume.
“No.” She winces. “I don’t blame you.”
“Then why can’t you look at me?”
She swallows, her throat working overtime. “Because I still care about you, and that feeling is insufferable when I can’t trust you.”
What I’d thought was insurmountable guilt finds a way of slicing deeper.
She stares at the table, nose scrunched. “You tried to leverage my feelings for you to save your brother.”
I let her statement sink in. Spend pained heartbeats imagining what that misconception must feel like.
“I tried to buy you time, Isla. I knew what you were up against would change lives, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with it right away on top of everything else.
You weren’t aware getting the cops involved could potentially put Quinn behind bars for the stunt she pulled.
And if they dug deep enough, your father, too, for insider trading, along with securities and honest-services fraud.
Can you seriously tell me you were ready to hear that and make those decisions? ”
She folds in on herself, her head bowing further.
“Talk to me,” I fucking beg.
“I know you, Raffael. I’ve watched how you work a boardroom. I’ve seen the micro-manipulations. The finesse and exploitation without your victims even knowing, and I…”
And she can’t tell if I was, or still am, doing that to her.
I breathe deep of her suffering, hold it in my chest until the pressure feels like the start of cardiac arrest. “Isla, I’m in love with—”
“Don’t.” Her gaze snaps to mine, lips parted, expression aghast.
It takes everything in me not to argue.
She takes me in with glassy eyes, bare blinks away from tears. “I can’t be around you.” Her words are more plea than statement. “That’s my last stipulation. I’m not in a place where I can trust my judgment with you. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
No. I shake my head.
I’ll give her a few more days. Hell, I’ll give her a fucking week. But a long-term dismissal of what we have isn’t an option. “I’ve separated myself from my feelings for you for years—”
“Then you’re already well versed on how to move forward.” She pushes to her feet.
“No, la mia rovina. I’m well versed in suffering. I’m a fucking pro at watching the woman I’m meant to be with live her life without me, and I refuse to do it any longer.”
She hesitates, a shadow of hurt crossing her features before she gathers herself. “You can. You will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Her lips curve in a small, heartbreaking smile of farewell that guts me clean before she heads for the door. “Because I’ve gone public before, and you know I’ll do it again.”