Thirty-Three
ANGELO
A ngelo had been simmering for three weeks now, his anger growing with each passing day.
First, his sister moved in, throwing a wrench in his personal life. Then, Johnathan showed up, stirring up trouble with both him and Allison. And as if that wasn’t enough, work had consumed so much of his time that not only had he missed his woman, but he’d also missed the last ultrasound just a few days ago.
But this? Oh, this shit was the icing on the cake.
Angelo was hunched over a stack of paperwork from Talon, his private investigator, trying—unsuccessfully—to comb through them and take notes. He’d barely made a dent when the door to his office creaked open.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Angelo snapped, fury sparking at the sight of Oliver Lockwood sauntering into his office like he owned the place.
He’d been planning to confront Lockwood himself, thanks to Talon’s recent bombshell discovery. It explained why the board had suddenly approved the merger and shed light on the cryptic advice his father had given him months ago:
“Don’t trust him, son. Keep digging. And make sure nobody else knows about it—not even her .”
Angelo had intended to ambush Lockwood at his own company tomorrow—confront him about his shady dealings and his treatment of Allison. But of course, the universe had other plans, dropping the man right at his doorstep, looking smug as ever.
Where the hell is Calliope when I need her?
He moved to press the intercom, but Oliver beat him to the punch.
“I hear you’re living with my daughter.”
Angelo didn’t let his expression betray the chaotic storm brewing inside. “You hear correctly.”
No use in denying it. He wasn’t ashamed of his feelings for Allison, but this required a careful approach. He needed to find a way to turn this to his advantage.
“Why?”
Angelo couldn’t help himself. “Because your hearing’s still sharp, despite your age?”
The old man’s face twitched. “Listen here, boy—”
“No, you listen to me , Mr. Lockwood,” Angelo said, leaning back in his chair, the picture of calm. “What goes on between Allison and me is our business. You have no say in how or where she chooses to live—especially after you’ve spent years ignoring her.”
Oliver’s composure cracked, fury flushing his face. “How dare you? You don’t know anything about my relationship with my children.”
Angelo crossed one leg over the other, still calm as ever. “I know enough,” he said coldly. “And let’s not pretend this is about all your children. Though, I’m sure you’ve done a bang-up job ignoring the boys, too.”
“You son of a—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you, Mr. Lockwood,” Angelo interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. He felt a thin thread of control inside him stretch, just shy of snapping.
Lockwood huffed, red-faced and seething.
He might actually pop a blood vessel. If only.
Angelo rose slowly, buttoning his suit jacket with deliberate ease. He sauntered over to the front of his desk, leaning against it and folding his arms as he towered over the older man.
“Now, you’re going to listen very carefully,” he said, voice cool. “You will apologize to Allison, or you will disappear from her life. You won’t contact your children, and you will step away from the business you care more about than your family. I’ll make sure of it.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Oh, and one more thing. You will sign over the company to Johnathan within the next month, or I’ll tear you and everything you’ve built to the ground. Do we understand each other?”
Angelo didn’t wait for a response. He turned his back on Oliver and strolled back to his chair, calm as a lake before a storm.
The old let out a sharp, bitter laugh, as if they were discussing the weather. “You think you can ruin me?”
Angelo’s smile turned dark, predatory. “You really don’t want to find out.”
TWO DAYS AGO
Angelo’s phone buzzed, offering him a much-needed break from his fruitless search for dirt on the scumbag Allison called her father. He’d been digging for months, but so far, Oliver Lockwood’s business was as clean as a whistle—on paper, at least.
Before the phone could ring again, he snatched it up. His head was already pounding from staring at documents. “Taylor.”
“Blackwood,” came the familiar gruff voice on the other end.
Angelo perked up instantly. “I’m listening.”
“I’m forwarding an email. It’s got the details on the target,” Talon said in his usual clipped tone, as if every extra syllable was a waste of breath.
Angelo opened his inbox, spotting the new email with a subject line that made him smirk: Hunted.
Real subtle, this guy.
“I’m looking at it now,” Angelo muttered, half hoping Talon would spare him the pain of wading through endless files. Reading through walls of text wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.
Luckily, Talon wasn’t one to waste time. “Check the attachment. The target’s been dealing with the underground for years.”
Angelo clicked open the file, his eyes quickly scanning the contents. And there it was, plain as day. Oliver Lockwood had been knee-deep in shady dealings for years—all while maintaining a spotless public image. The guy had practically built his empire on dirty money and had everyone fooled into thinking he was one of the most respected businessmen around.
Talon’s voice broke through Angelo’s disbelief. “He hit rock bottom about twenty years ago. Blew through his fortune faster than he could make it back. That’s when the greed kicked in.”
Angelo’s gaze flew over a series of money transfers, incriminating conversations, and even a few damning photographs. It was all there, in black and white. The further he read, the harder it was to believe that Lockwood had gotten away with this for so long.
As Talon continued laying out the details, Angelo leaned back in his chair, still reeling from what he was seeing. This wasn’t just dirt—it was dynamite.
Lockwood’s days were numbered.
Angelo whispered to himself with a smirk, “You’re going down, Lockwood.”
“Empty threats won’t work on me, boy.” Lockwood’s voice was defiant, but his appearance told a different story. Gone was the confident man who had once commanded his boardroom with ease. Now, he looked uncertain—and Angelo liked him better that way.
Leaning back in his chair, Angelo’s grin turned wolfish as he studied his prey.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume these threats are empty, Mr. Lockwood,” he said coolly. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I know what you’ve done to hundreds of companies—and what you tried to do to mine.”
The color drained from Oliver’s face, and for what might have been the first time in his life, he looked genuinely afraid.
Angelo smirked, enjoying the shift in power. “Now, I do apologize for cutting this short,” he added, his voice dripping with insincerity, “but since you decided to barge in here unannounced, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve got business to attend to.”
That was a complete lie, of course, but there was no way Lockwood would know that.
Without another glance at the man, Angelo unlocked his computer and casually opened the contracts he’d been reviewing earlier, acting as if he’d already forgotten the older man was in the room. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the sound of Lockwood’s quiet, awkward retreat.
As the door closed behind him, Angelo’s smirk widened.
Pettiness has a name, and it’s Angelo Taylor.
The next morning, Angelo was itching to tell Allison what had happened with her father as he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. He’d been up since five, calling into the office early—knowing his PA was just as much of an early riser. Once upon a time, Allison had been too.
He couldn’t help but remember one of their late-night texting sessions a few months back when she’d opened up about her job. How much she enjoyed it—at least, when her father wasn’t involved. How he worked her into the ground, setting impossibly tight deadlines for everything.
The maternity leave had done her some good, though. Still, Angelo knew she couldn’t completely detach; she was still managing her father’s meetings from a distance.
She’s just fucking amazing. And my dick needs to calm down.
He piled the pancakes onto plates, paying extra attention to Allison’s and topping hers with fresh blueberries—just the way she liked it. He loved knowing the little details: how she took her breakfast, what she craved, her favorite milk.
He treated it like a business venture—only way more enjoyable. He’d memorized her every reaction and expression the way others memorized stock trends.
With Allison’s plate perfectly prepped, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice (pulp included, of course), he set it on a tray and left his and Katerina’s plates on the counter. Allison and their daughter came first.
Balancing the tray in one hand, he made his way upstairs and pushed open the door to their bedroom. The sight of Allison peacefully sleeping in their bed filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment. And, of course, his cock twitched in excitement at the thought of their life together.
Keep it together, man.
He’d been practically celibate these past three weeks, refusing to even touch himself because, honestly, nothing compared to the feeling of Allison’s warmth. No one else could even make him remotely interested. She was his everything. There was no chase, no looking around. He was done. He was hers, heart and soul, and he was going to make sure she knew that soon.
Angelo set the tray down on the bedside table before sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. He leaned in, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest with a satisfied smile. Her scent—honey and lavender—was intoxicating. He cursed quietly as his cock stirred again.
So much for self-control.
He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his desire. His body wanted to wake her up in the most inappropriate way, but he resisted the urge. There’d be time for that conversation—about boundaries and, well, fun consensual activities—soon enough.
“Allison,” he whispered, voice soft, “wake up, sweet girl. Time for breakfast.”
At the sound of his voice, his mind flickered back to that day in the kitchen, and suddenly he had a much different idea of what he wanted for breakfast.
Allison moaned softly in her sleep, and Angelo grinned. He’d learned that Allison loved her sleep almost as much as she loved her lattes, and that was saying something.
He ran a hand gently through her hair, and she moaned again, this time with a hint of something deeper, more primal. It sent a thrill through him. Even half-asleep, she responded to him, and he loved that.
His hand traveled down to the base of her neck, fingers barely brushing against her skin. He wrapped his hand around her throat, teasingly, just as he had in the shower that one time. He waited, watching her reaction carefully.
She moaned again, eyes still closed, but she shifted slightly, pushing her neck into his hand. He didn’t squeeze, not wanting to cross any lines while she was still asleep, no matter how much he wanted to wake her with more… intense methods.
“Allison,” he said again, a little louder this time, pulling his hand back to avoid any chance of startling her. “ Xúpna, omorfiá mou, ” he coaxed, urging her to wake up.
At the soft flutter of her eyelashes, Angelo’s heart skipped. She let out a small, sleepy sound, half-whine, half-moan, and his cock instantly hardened.
She rubbed a hand over her eyes and mumbled, “What time is it?”
Angelo glanced at the bedside clock. “Just past eleven.”
Her eyes slowly opened, revealing those gorgeous jade green irises he’d missed so much. For the past three weeks, he’d barely seen her, and he was going to make sure her father paid for that. But not now. Right now, he only cared about one thing: Allison Pink Lockwood.
His fingers traced a gentle path over her skin, trailing downward until they reached her core. She gasped softly at his teasing touch, her body responding immediately. He knew he was torturing her—hell, he was torturing himself—but he couldn’t stop. He loved the sweet sounds she made.
He slid one finger over her clit, and—
“It’s my fucking birthday!”
Angelo yanked his hand back like he’d been caught stealing as his sister Katerina burst into the room like a hurricane.
At first, Angelo was angry. His little cockblock of a sister had interrupted what was bound to be an utterly scrumptious meal.
But then confusion hit. There was no way Katerina was right. Her birthday was March 21st, and today was… well, definitely not that late.
Negativity slowly gave way to regret. Angelo realized he’d been so consumed by work and lost in his own world that he hadn’t checked a calendar in days. His stomach sank. He glanced at the date on his phone—March 21st.
Her birthday.
In an instant, the anger melted into uselessness as he watched Katerina throw her arms around Allison, her usual infectious energy in full force. Allison beamed, wishing her a happy birthday while Katerina bounced with excitement.
Angelo stood frozen. When they were younger, he’d always made a point to plan his sister’s birthday days ahead. He’d arrange feasts, come up with ridiculous activities, invite everyone she loved. And now? His sister was hopping around his bed like a giddy little kid, and he hadn’t even remembered the damn date.
His heart sank further as he imagined her realizing that there would be no grand gestures this time. He remembered that look of disappointment she’d get when their father wouldn’t show up for her birthday or when he was the only one in the audience at her dance recital. Those moments had made them closer—but at a price.
He needed to fix this.
“Happy birthday, mikrí ,” he said, opening his arms.
She launched herself into him without hesitation, legs wrapping around his waist, and for once, he was grateful his libido had clocked out the second she stormed in. She squeezed him tightly, just like she’d always done since they were kids.
“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, and despite her casual tone, he felt the depth behind those two words. Katerina had always been explosive with everything except her emotions, but Angelo had learned long ago how to read between the lines.
They stayed like that for a moment, in a rare pocket of sibling comfort that felt both familiar and bittersweet. It had been far too long since they’d just been brother and sister. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now.
After a while, he let her slide back down to the floor. “I’m sorry, mikrí . I haven’t planned anything special this time,” he said, guilt lacing his voice.
Katerina huffed dramatically and smacked his chest. “Oh, you big buffoon,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t need an entire parade to have fun on my birthday. Just take me to the Space Needle, okay?”
Angelo chuckled, relief flooding through him. “Deal,” he nodded, already mentally planning to make this day as special as possible, even if it meant doing it on the fly.
I’ll make it right, Katerina , he promised silently. I won’t let you down.
Angelo took the girls out that afternoon, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride as he watched them interact. In the three weeks he’d been wrapped up in work, Katerina had spent most of her time at the house—he knew because he’d checked. Allison had taken her under her wing, and it showed in every little detail. The way they moved around each other, the small, friendly touches, the bursts of laughter.
Allison treated his sister like family, always noticing new things about her, beaming with pride whenever Katerina cracked a joke or shared a story. Her happiness was contagious, sparking in tandem with Katerina’s excitement. Angelo couldn’t help but watch over them, feeling warmth bloom in his chest.
Their first stop was the Space Needle, where the girls admired Puget Sound and the surrounding mountains. Katerina’s fear of heights cut the visit short, but that was fine—next up was Chihuly Garden and Glass. There, Allison became captivated by the art, her eyes studying the sculptures with a focus that Angelo found irresistible. Katerina, on the other hand, whined. She’d never been one for art, unless it came in the form of a rom-com or a musical.
But Angelo made a mental note: he’d bring Allison to the Seattle Art Museum sometime soon.
They hopped from one tourist spot to the next, until Katerina and Allison were worn out. They ended their day at Kerry Park with a simple picnic—takeout from a nearby restaurant and a bottle of sparkling water. Sitting on a bench, they ate in peace, with Katerina animatedly telling stories from their childhood. Soon, Allison chimed in, telling Katerina about the Lockwood family’s tradition of naming their children after colors.
Angelo smiled, soaking it all in. For most of the day, he’d been happy.
But when they returned home, the weight of the truth he’d been carrying settled back on his shoulders. The information he’d uncovered about Allison’s father gnawed at him. He dreaded telling her, knowing it would shatter her world. But it had to be done. He couldn’t keep this from her, not when it affected her so deeply.
As Katerina disappeared upstairs for the night, Angelo turned to Allison. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Her smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Is something wrong?”
He nodded, his throat tight. He didn’t want to say the words, didn’t want to be the one to break her heart. But he couldn’t protect her from this truth. “I’ve been looking into something these past few months,” he began as they sat on the couch. “Remember when I said I’d go after your father?”
Allison’s expression hardened. She nodded, her eyes cold and expectant. Angelo could see the resolve there, the readiness to face whatever was coming. But she had no idea how deep this went.
“Well, spit it out, darling,” she said, her voice even and controlled. Despite the gravity of the moment, he couldn’t help but admire her strength—and get distracted by the way she called him darling.
He marveled at her, at how easily she’d taken control of his life, claimed it without even knowing. His carefully guarded heart, his organized thoughts—all unraveled the moment Allison Pink Lockwood had walked into that boardroom. He’d been too naive to realize it back then, but his life had become hers that day. His heart had broken free of its cage, beating only for the blonde goddess who now held it in her hands.
Of course, his body had been quick to follow suit, betraying him at every turn. Seriously, now’s not the time, he scolded himself.
Angelo cleared his throat, forcing his mind back to the present. Allison’s worry was growing, her eyes filled with concern as she waited for him to speak.
He swallowed hard. “Allison… this is about your father. And it’s bad.”