Chapter Seventeen
LUKE
Returning to Blackwood felt predictable. The confrontation at home did not.
By Tuesday evening, I didn’t even make it past the foyer before a staff member informed me my father was waiting in his study. That always meant he’d already decided I was wrong.
The study doors were open, and I stepped inside. Dad stood near the fireplace, sleeves rolled up in controlled agitation. Mom sat in one of the leather chairs, ankles crossed, posture immaculate. No one invited me to sit.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
I didn’t flinch. “What are you talking about?”
“The mountain house,” he replied. “You turned a private residence into a tagged location you and your girlfriend were at while we’re navigating delicate negotiations. Scrutiny on any of our executives and board members is a problem.”
Now we were in the right territory. “It was locked down before it spread,” I answered.
“It spread enough.”
Mom stepped forward. “Do you understand what happens when Edwardo Ruiz’s name intersects publicly with ours?”
There it was. It wasn’t about the party. No, this was about the association.
“He owns a gym,” I replied evenly.
Dad’s expression hardened. “And his mother married into the Ferraro family. Mafia.”
Mom’s tone stayed precise. “Dominick Ferraro may not share blood with his stepbrother, Edwardo Ruiz, but proximity is all anyone needs to construct a narrative.”
That was the real fear. Not Edwardo, not violence. Narrative.
“It’s not a business relationship,” I answered. “It’s social.”
Dad stepped closer. “Which makes it worse. Social suggests comfort. Comfort suggests alignment.”
“We are already under scrutiny from Dunn,” Mom continued. “Board members ask questions when certain names appear within our orbit. Especially when those names have… historical complications.”
Historical complications. They still wouldn’t say it cleanly. Dunn Industries had been using shell corporations to buy up King Enterprise’s stock and property for months, positioning for a hostile takeover. “It was private property.”
“It was tagged,” Dad shot back. “Publicly.”
Mom’s expression remained calm. “The location was boosted. People showed up. By morning, half of Blackwood was talking.”
“People talked about a party,” I replied. “That’s not exactly new.”
“Talking about you,” Dad corrected. “And about who you brought.”
I didn’t answer.
Mom didn’t blink. “After the gala, there was no ambiguity. You formalized it.”
“And once Adriana is mentioned because of the girl you’re dating,” Dad added, “so is the man living in her house.”
Edwardo. The connection made clear.
“You think Dunn doesn’t have researchers?” Mom asked quietly. “They trace relationships. They map households.”
“Ruiz’s mother married into the Ferraro family,” Dad added. “That’s enough.”
“And proximity becomes narrative,” Mom continued. “Narrative becomes leverage.”
That was the connection. That was it. Not fear of a crime family. Fear of investigation. Fear of federal curiosity. Fear of stockholders panicking at rumor alone.
“You think Dunn wouldn’t use that?” Dad pressed. “A whisper that King Enterprises entertains organized crime adjacency?”
Adjacency. Even now, they refused to say “connected.” They weren’t. Not legally or structurally. But perception didn’t care about legality.
I exhaled slowly. “You’re afraid of optics.”
“We’re concerned about leverage,” Mom corrected. “There’s a difference.”
And that was the line that split us. They were protecting the empire. I was protecting people. “It wasn’t public,” I countered.
“It doesn’t have to be,” my father snapped. “Speculation is enough.”
I held his gaze. “Speculation about what?”
“About why certain… protections… were necessary.”
Mafia heat. He still wouldn’t say it outright.
“Our board is already fielding concerns,” Mom continued evenly. “About stability. About exposure.”
“You created visibility,” Dad pressed. “When competitors are quietly acquiring stock, visibility becomes risk.”
“Alliances matter,” Mom added. “Especially when they can be misinterpreted.”
She meant Edwardo. “I secured the house before it escalated,” I replied. “No damage. No press.”
“Because we buried it,” Dad shot back. “Do you understand what kind of speculation circulates when certain names enter our orbit?”
There it was. The reference to Ferraro. He still wouldn’t say it outright. “Protection isn’t scandal,” I answered. “Silence is.”
The room went still.
Dad’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get to redefine risk.”
Mom rose from her chair. “This isn’t about a party. It’s about timing. Dunn is positioning. Analysts are watching. Investors are nervous.”
“It was contained,” I repeated.
“Not by you,” Dad said.
That was the point. Control in this house had always meant him.
A knock cut through the tension before it tipped further. Drew stepped in without waiting for permission.
“What’s going on?” he asked, tone light enough to be deliberate.
“Your brother is confusing independence with recklessness,” Dad replied.
Drew’s gaze flicked to me. Brief. Assessing.
“The situation was contained quickly,” he said. “No press traction. No regulatory noise. We have bigger fires.”
Bigger fires. Dad’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Mom rose from the chair then, smoothing a hand down the front of her jacket as she crossed the room. She stopped beside Dad, close enough that her fingers rested lightly at his waist.
It wasn’t affectionate. It showed alignment. Her grip tightened once, and a quick, loaded glance passed between them.
The realization took hold. I wasn’t being corrected. I was being managed. Strategically.
“Every move reflects on this family,” Dad said.
“I’m aware.”
“Then act accordingly.”
The dismissal didn’t need to be spoken. I turned before either of them could continue. Drew followed me into the hallway.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said once we were out of earshot.
“I don’t.”
“You should take it seriously, though.”
That made me stop.
He studied me, something restrained behind his eyes. “There are conversations happening you’re not part of yet,” he continued carefully.
“Yet.”
His mouth curved faintly. Not humor. “Just keep your head down for a few weeks.”
“For what?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he clapped a hand against my shoulder and walked away.
I found Claire in the east sitting room, tablet balanced on her knee.
She looked up as I stepped inside, reading my expression before I spoke.
I closed the door behind me. “Mila’s scholarship. Is it safe?”
Her expression didn’t change, but she set the tablet aside. As King Enterprises’ appointed member on the Blackwood Academy board, she would know exactly how it was structured. “From what?” she asked carefully.
“From retaliation. From anyone deciding she’s convenient leverage.”
A beat passed. “It’s held through an independent foundation,” she replied. “The principal can’t revoke it on his own.”
“That doesn’t make it untouchable.”
“No,” she admitted. “But removing it would require a formal review. Board oversight. The school won’t want that.”
Good. “Dunn has influence,” I continued. “And the principal has motive after Adriana dumped him.”
“You’re anticipating retaliation?”
“I’m eliminating risk.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then, softer, “You can’t shield her from everything.”
“I don’t need to,” I replied. “Just enough.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly. “And if ‘enough’ starts costing you?”
“It won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I held her eyes. “She’s not leverage.”
Something shifted in her expression. “The scholarship is protected,” she said again. “As much as anything ever is.”
As much as anything ever is. Temporary security. A few more months. That was all we needed.
Claire studied me for another moment. “There are ways to build a future that doesn’t require absorbing your father’s.”
“That’s not today’s problem.”
“It will be.”
Maybe. But today was about making sure Mila couldn’t be collateral.
“I appreciate the confirmation.”
She inclined her head once.
I paused, debating whether to ask something more personal. But I needed to know—and a part of me wondered what Mila might see too. “Why do you stay? This family isn’t exactly easy to be around.”
Her lips lifted at the corners and her eyes softened. “I love your brother. Yeah, there’s a darkness in him—just like there is in all of you Kings. But there’s good too. That’s the part I choose to see.”
I let that sit then left before the conversation could turn into something else.
Darkness, yeah we had that in us. Drew’s spiral into alcohol and drugs had proved it. I’d even flirted with the same edge when Mila left. My brother had been the one who pulled me back. In that way we were alike.
But Claire was wrong about one thing. The good in us wasn’t’ something we carried on our own. The good in us was them—Claire and Mila.
God help anyone who ever hurt the women we loved. Because there would be no stopping us then.
I drove to the arena without thinking then messaged Mila from the parking lot, asking her to meet me on the roof. The rink was dark at that hour, practice long over, security minimal. I took the back stairwell to the rooftop, the metal door creaking faintly as I pushed it open.
Cool air hit immediately. The town’s lights blurred in the distance, indifferent to family wars and boardroom power plays.
I braced my hands against the railing. For once, there was no strategy forming in my head. Just pressure. Footsteps sounded behind me ten minutes later. I didn’t turn.
“You could’ve at least warned me it was chilly up here,” Mila called lightly as the door shut behind her.
“Come here.” I pulled off my hoodie and handed it to her.
She grinned then put it on as she leaned against the railing beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. “How bad?”
I exhaled once. “Exactly what you’d expect.”
“Your dad?”
“Yes.”
“And your mom?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t rush to fill the silence. That was the difference with her. She didn’t try to manage my reaction. She let me ease into an explanation when I was ready.
“They’re not upset about the party,” I explained finally. “It’s about exposure.”
Her brows furrowed. “Exposure to what?”
“Edwardo’s mafia connection… and you.”
Her posture stilled slightly.
“They think Dunn will use how you’re connected to me. And how your mom is connected to Ruiz—who’s linked to Ferraro.”
She absorbed that without dramatics.
“What’s different this time?” she asked.
“Drew.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
“He’s not smoothing things over. He’s hiding things. With them.”
“Against you?”
“Not directly.” I watched the lights below. “Just… positioning.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
And that was the part that bothered me. My father was predictable. He was all anger, control, volume. Drew was precise.
Mila shifted in front of me then, forcing me to look at her. Her hands came up, warm against my jaw despite the cold. “You’re not cornered,” she said.
“It’s not about being cornered.”
“What is it about?”
“Timing. Moves being made that I’m not included in.”
She studied me. “You don’t want the company.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is if they’re using it to manipulate you.”
The wind lifted a strand of her hair across her cheek. I brushed it back without thinking.
“You don’t light up when you talk about any of it,” she continued. “You tolerate it.”
I grinned at her assessment. “And you’ve analyzed this when?”
“I pay attention.” She winked, the corners of her mouth curving up.
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
“You light up when you talk about hockey, about building a future of your own,” she said. “Not inheriting your family’s legacy.”
The arena’s exterior lights hummed below us.
“You don’t belong to the parts of your family’s dynasty that you resent,” she added quietly.
I leaned down and kissed her, wanting to anchor this moment.
She kissed me back without hesitation, hands shifting from my jaw to around my neck.
The chaos in my head briefly quieted. Regardless of what was forming at home, the game Dunn thought he was playing, or whatever Drew was positioning—Mila wasn’t collateral. She wasn’t leverage. She was my choice.
I wouldn’t sacrifice her to stabilize something that had never been built for me.
Her forehead rested against mine. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We will.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Once. Twice. Persistent. I pulled it out.
Drew: Call me.
I stared at the screen for a long moment. The cracks at home weren’t closing. They were widening. And this time—I wasn’t sure which side my brother stood on.