Chapter 79
REGGIE
Finn leans back, calculating everything I’ve just told him. As soon as Rowan text me saying Lyla had been in contact, I knew I had to do something.
“I don’t believe she is pregnant, Reggie,” Stephanie says; she’s carrying her own proof of knowledge, and the way she says it makes it land heavier. She’s one of the best cardiac surgeons in the state; if she says the biology doesn’t add up, I listen.
“You asked her to resign and provide proof. She hasn’t.” Finn’s voice is low. “I’d say it’s clear cut.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I let it go. “She’s up to something. She’s after Rowan now.” I don’t like the way that sounds. Lyla’s the kind of rot that likes to wedge itself in and fester.
“Maybe she’s trying to stop your wedding. Maybe she fell in love with you,” Drago suggests, like it’s a half-funny possibility, and I want to knock him over the table. I give a tight laugh. “It’s not easy to fall in love with me. It’s not that.”
Finn shrugs. “If we fire her, we might startle her.”
“Maybe she’s just a psycho,” Steph says bluntly. I almost appreciate the lack of sugarcoating.
“I don’t want a psycho anywhere near Bella or Rowan.”
Finn’s face goes stony. “I can’t kill her in case she’s telling the truth.” His hands fold. “Even if it's someone else’s.” He has a point; we’re not murder-happy idiots. There are rules. There are consequences. I have some morals, however loose they look on paper.
“Let me dig deeper with Enzo,” I say. “No trace is a red flag. I’ll monitor Inferno feeds, see what she’s doing,” Drago adds.
“We can’t let Rowan hear anything until we’re sure. He doesn’t need that stress while he’s recovering,” I tell them.
“He’s recovering well, Reggie,” Drago says, like a warning and an observation. “But you both need to be on the same page, or this’ll blow up.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling the itch of being pulled in so many directions—wife-to-be, brother, boss.
But, ultimately, Rowan and I have always been stronger together. And whatever Lyla is up to, I’m hoping it’s just a poor attempt to try to worm her way back into our bed and nothing more sinister.
“Yeah. I’ll speak to him.”