Chapter 13
Thirteen
Kane was arrested.
Once the police got there, that was.
Right before that, Kane had been staring at Gerald’s battered face. Then up at me.
When our gazes locked, I flinched. The burning in my cheek was nothing compared to the agony in my soul caused by that look.
Kane was no longer a rage-filled animal. There was no fight left in him. No, there was only love, naked, wretched love on his face. It wasn’t that tender, playful love I’d grown accustomed to. No, this was something ugly. It was spattered with blood and resignation over what had happened here.
Kane had beaten a man because of me. He’d let go of the control he’d held on to so tightly since the last time he’d been locked up. And he was sober now, you could see it in his face. He saw his fate ahead of him. Police. A young, fit man covered in blood. An older, paunchy man battered from his fists.
There was a knife, one I’d used for herbs, lying on the ground. Kane was bleeding—I hadn’t realized that at first, since he was covered in Gerald’s blood. A flesh wound on the meaty part of his bicep, but it horrified me.
Gerald, at some point had tried to stab him. The police kept asking whether it was before or after the beating started; that was an important detail.
Before was what Kane said.
Would they believe him?
Did I believe him?
Would it matter in a court of law?
I had to swallow bile once I realized what that meant for Kane.
My feet were leaden as I tried to step toward him. And my mouth was dry, unable to find words.
Kane had been the one to call the police. Once he’d stopped hitting Gerald. Once the man’s handsome face was no longer recognizable and Kane’s knuckles were crimson. He’d ripped his stare from mine, got his phone from his pocket then called them, voice even, calm. Blood dripped from his hands as he held the phone to his ear.
He dropped the phone beside him once the call was made. Still, I couldn’t move. I was cemented in place, horrified at my body’s response, the freezing. Somewhere, deep down, I was screaming at myself to move, to hug Kane, to tell him I loved him, to do something. But I didn’t. I just stayed there. Useless.
And then the police crashed in. It was only mere minutes after calling them. Who knew if they were in the area or it was a low crime day. Maybe it was luck. If you could call it that.
Once they took statements, the police didn’t look at Gerald with much sympathy, nor did they look happy about putting Kane in cuffs.
But their hands were tied. It wasn’t self-defense, nor was Kane ‘saving me’ from any kind of assault. It was revenge, pure and simple.
It was attempted murder, someone said, somewhere.
I told them about the knife, that Kane had been stabbed. That must’ve meant something.
I tried to hold on to all the details, hold on to my trademark calm. This is when it was needed most. But my kitchen was a mess. There was blood splatter on the floor. It was cluttered with strangers, officers, paramedics. A lot of them. I didn’t know if it was because of the restaurant or Kane’s fame. It didn’t matter.
The man I loved was getting cuffed and hauled away.
Gerald had already been taken away by paramedics. Not in a body bag.
Kane hadn’t killed him.
That was good.
Not because I wanted Gerald alive—a cold part of me would’ve liked to see him dead—but because I didn’t want that piece of shit to turn Kane into a murderer.
“Chef,” Kane’s voice brought me back to the moment.
I’d just been standing there, numbly watching them put shackles on Kane. Powerless. I was powerless there. Because of Gerald.
“We’re gonna be okay,” he said, eyes on me. “You’re gonna be okay. Call my brother. I love you.”
“I love you,” was all I could croak back.
Then he was hauled off.
Standing in my kitchen, I realized my life had just imploded.
Kane had said to call his brother.
I wanted to. I so dearly wanted to. Knox, although terrifying, had a strong presence, like he could take care of anything. The same demeanor Kane had. Like if there was a meteor headed toward Earth, somehow, they’d take care of it.
A meteor had already hurtled into my life, leaving nothing but rubble. And I had no way to contact Knox.
I had to take care of it. Had to take care of Kane.
That ripped me out of the hideous mental coma I’d been in since Gerald stepped into my kitchen.
I’d jumped into action, looking up the best lawyer in the city, calling them despite it being the middle of the night by the time I’d given my statement to the police countless times, called Heidi to let her know what happened in the kitchen and that the restaurant would be closed.
That should’ve all come second. I should’ve called the lawyer first. That was logical, yet all logic had abandoned me.
“Ms. Hart, yes, we’ve already been in contact with Mr. Smith,” a woman told me as if it were midday.
I blinked in confusion. My head was pounding, my ears ringing and my stomach clenching from the lack of food I’d imbibed all day. I didn’t dare eat. I knew I’d vomit it all up. “Mr. Smith?”
“Braxton Smith, Mr. Rhodes’s manager,” the woman clarified.
Brax.
I hadn’t called him. I wanted him as far from this situation as possible. But somehow, he knew. He already had his talons in, one step ahead of me.
This wasn’t a competition, I reminded myself. The fact that Brax was getting lawyers together, getting organized, meant that Kane was going to be okay. As much as I didn’t like the man, Kane was his paycheck, and he wouldn’t earn him money from behind bars. Even if his intentions were nefarious, the overall desire was the same. Get Kane out of jail.
Jail.
My mouth was sandy at the thought of it.
I hadn’t had a wink of sleep all night. After the lawyer’s office promised me a meeting the next day, I’d spent what was left of the night going over every second of what had transpired, trying to figure out all the ways I could’ve avoided this horrible situation.
I could’ve told Kane the truth at the start. I could’ve refused to cook with Gerald—despite my pride. I could’ve been brave and actually spoken up about him all those years ago.
Yes, there were many paths I could’ve taken that would’ve spared Kane from this. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t dwelled on the ‘what ifs’ since my father died. I’d promised myself not to do it again.
So when the sun rose, I put on my clothes—slacks and a white blouse, sensible-heeled shoes, pulled back my hair and did my best to cover the bags under my eyes with makeup. There was a faint bruise underneath my eye, a redness to my cheek that still lingered.
There was just a lone photographer outside my apartment, telling me the news hadn’t broken … yet. I hid behind dark glasses, but I didn’t need to since he didn’t even seem to recognize me without Kane. How quickly I sank into obscurity without him. Obscurity. Hadn’t that been what I wanted?
Yet without the presence of him, I felt less than invisible.
Self-pity does not become you , I told myself.
That wasn’t who I was. I sucked it up and dealt. Got things done.
Brax was at the lawyer’s office when I arrived.
That irked me for reasons unknown. Well, not really unknown. I didn’t like the guy. Which wasn’t exactly fair. He’d been in Kane’s life for a lot longer than I had. Kane was a good judge of character, he was a good man, and he trusted Brax.
I needed to as well.
Yet disgust snaked down my spine when he pulled me into a hug in the plush reception area.
He smelled of expensive cologne. Too much of it, yet not enough to mask the bitter undertone of sweat.
“You didn’t have to come,” he said, releasing me but holding on to my upper arms for a fraction too long, his grip just a little too tight. “I’ve got this under control.” He lifted his hand up to smooth his already perfect hair.
“Of course, I had to come,” I argued, my tone a little sharp. “I’m…” I pursed my lips. Saying I was Kane’s girlfriend sounded juvenile and nowhere near important enough of a title for what we were.
But we weren’t engaged. Weren’t married. Hadn’t been together all that long. By all societal standards, I was just a girlfriend. I had no legal rights in this situation. The reality of that made my skin clammy and my heart rate spike.
After years of experience in busy kitchens, I managed to keep my expression neutral and calm, maintaining eye contact with Brax.
“Of course, I had to come,” I repeated my earlier statement. “This is where I belong, making sure that Kane is going to be okay.”
“Darlin’, that’s my job,” Brax chuckled, the sound faux and condescending. “Don’t you worry—”
“My pretty little head about it?” I tilted the aforementioned head sideways to regard him.
His smile dimmed somewhat. “Now, that isn’t what I was going to say.”
I folded my arms across my chest, already missing Kane like a limb, my mind overcome with worry about him. “That was the sentiment,” I retorted coldly. “I know you’ve had a relationship with Kane for years, and I respect that. Kane respects you, trusts you. So I respect and trust you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit at home and wring my hands. I’m going to be involved.” I ensured my tone was authoritative, without holes for emotion to slip into.
Men like Brax caught those holes, used them as openings to bring women down, make them second-guess themselves, make them submit. I’d failed once already with a man like that, and I wouldn’t again.
He contemplated me with that slimy smile and calculating gaze before reaching out to squeeze my hand. His grip was sweaty and too firm.
“Of course,” he said easily. “Of course, Kane wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially considering…”
“Considering what?” I asked sharply.
“Well, this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t come to the restaurant. Not that it’s your fault,” he added quickly. But that’s exactly what he was saying. He was probing for weakness, for the blame I felt over the situation.
I thought I’d buried that blame deep, but it seemed I was wearing it like a sign.
Before I could open my mouth or worse, burst into tears, a voice interrupted.
“Ms. Hart? Mr. Smith? Victoria is ready for you.”
We looked at the man in a sleek suit, chiseled jaw and a warm yet professional mask.
I straightened my spine again.
“Ladies first.” Brax held out his arm, greasy smile back in place.
For Kane. I’m doing this for Kane , I reminded myself.
I stepped in front of him and followed the man in the suit.
Victoria Steele was younger than I expected her to be. Maybe my age. Maybe even younger. Her porcelain skin didn’t have a single line in it that I could see. She was harshly beautiful. Everything about her features was sharp, high cheekbones, piercing eyes rimmed with black liner. Her lips were painted blood-red, dark hair pulled back to further define her features. She was also incredibly petite in an impeccably tailored, white suit, diamonds adorning her wrists.
From my research, she was the best defense lawyer in the city. In the country. She had graduated from Harvard Law, had come straight to New York City to work at one of the top firms and was made partner within a handful of years. One of the youngest partners in history. It was impressive.
Her corner office was large, filled with light, although it was coldly appointed—no pictures of family, of children. Though I knew better than anyone that to get to the top of your industry, you didn’t have time for family.
I appreciated that she shook both of our hands, not smiling, taking stock of us. The small curl to her lip after she regarded Brax gave me the hint that she was practiced at reading people and had gotten his number straight away.
“Please, sit.” She pointed to the sofas instead of the chairs in front of a large oak desk.
I hated Brax being next to me, sitting closer than he needed to. The sofa was large, yet he splayed his legs open so they almost brushed mine. Taking up space. Daring me to cower into a corner.
I gritted my teeth and stayed where I was.
Victoria watched this carefully from her spot on the sofa across from us, her legs crossed. “I’m not going to bother with small talk. I’ll just say that Kane is currently being held, and I’m in talks with the D.A. about what they plan on charging him with.”
I appreciated the lack of small talk; I needed all the information on where Kane was and how to get him out.
“He’s not going to go to jail, though, is he?” I asked. Or begged.
She looked at me with an even gaze devoid of sympathy. That was good, right? You didn’t want a lawyer easily swayed by emotions. You wanted a stone-cold killer.
“Normally, in a situation like this, considering it’s been established that Mr. DuBois came at him first with a knife after assaulting you, I would say we had favorable odds.” She didn’t break eye contact. “Still, the beating would’ve been tricky, but nothing I couldn’t handle normally.”
“Normally?” Brax asked from beside me, steepling his fingers and leaning forward. “What’s not normal about this situation except that Kane has a fuck of a lot more money and influence than most average Joes who get in a fight over a woman.”
My body stiffened.
Over a woman .
Dismissive. Almost derogatory. As if the woman in question wasn’t right beside him. As if the woman in question didn’t matter at all.
Victoria’s eyes hardened ever so slightly at Brax’s words, briefly sliding to me before refocusing on him. She didn’t like him. I could see that through her veneer. She was a senior partner at one of the top law firms in New York. I had the sense she might’ve encountered many men like Brax before.
“Well, let’s start off by saying the fight was not on account of any woman,” she said before turning her gaze back to me. “None of this was Avery’s doing. She did not ask for DuBois to assault her, nor did she ask for Kane to assault DuBois in return.”
The tips of Brax’s ears went pink. “Of course, not.”
She acted as if he didn’t speak.
“Secondly, although Mr. Rhodes does have considerable influence that comes with being a public persona, so does Mr. DuBois.”
“He’s a fucking chef ,” Brax scoffed. “How much influence can you garner by grilling people some fucking steaks?”
My hands fisted on my knees.
“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean…” Brax turned to me, and I waved him off despite having the urge to slap him.
“Mr. DuBois’s influence on the cultural world is a little more than grilling some steaks,” Victoria countered dryly. “Chefs who operate on the level that he and Ms. Hart operate on feed governors, presidential hopefuls, lawmakers, CEOs and … district attorneys.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “The kind of culinary experience provided by someone of that caliber creates a gravitas and a power that may not seem obvious to people like you, but is considerable, nonetheless.”
I bit back my smile. Yeah, I liked this lawyer.
Though Brax kept an easy expression on his face, I didn’t miss the way he moved his jaw, grinding his teeth. He did not like being talked to like that by a woman.
Go figure.
“Okay,” he replied through gritted teeth. “But again, the publicity around this… Kane is pretty beloved, and he has his share of powerful friends.”
Victoria nodded. “I’m aware. I’ve already spoken to some. But we have had a confluence of … bad luck, for lack of a better term when it comes to this situation and the timing. The D.A. is looking to make a name for herself. She’s new to the role and is trying to shed the office’s reputation for being ‘soft’ on people of influence. And the judge we’ve been assigned is somewhat known for carrying out sentences to teach privileged kids lessons.”
Brax dragged a hand down his face. “Kane is not a fucking kid.”
“Nor was he privileged,” I added. “He grew up in poverty, worked his ass off for everything he has, volunteers with what little free time he does have, and donates 40 percent of his paychecks to charity.”
Brax’s head snapped in my direction. I didn’t look at him, but I assumed he was surprised I was privy to that information. I was just the girlfriend after all.
Victoria nodded. “All relevant details that I will be using to argue on his behalf. And I’m great at what I do. The best. I’ll do everything in my considerable power to ensure he gets off with a slap on the wrist, a fine, some community service. I’ll do my best to push for DuBois getting charged with assault, both toward you and for stabbing Mr. Rhodes. I win cases. That’s why I’m here.” She held her hands out to gesture to the sleek corner office with views of the city.
“But I don’t do bullshit,” she continued, her focus back on me. “And I’d be bullshitting you if I said for sure that I could guarantee we’ll get out of this lightly. With Kane’s record, the judge, the D.A., there is a very real possibility that he could be facing prison time. Despite my best efforts. Mr. DuBois is not dead, which is our only saving grace in this situation. But he’s much older than Mr. Rhodes and is still in an induced coma.”
I wanted to vomit. Not at Gerald being in a coma. For all I cared, he could stay that way forever. But he needed to wake up. For Kane’s sake.
“Well,” Brax stood up after a few beats of silence. “We’ll go somewhere else to find someone who can win.”
Victoria didn’t look perturbed. In fact, she almost looked like she expected it.
“You can try,” she shrugged. “I’m the best. Which is why you’re here in the first place. Because I’m the best, my time is limited and expensive. I’m only doing this as a favor to Avery.”
I recoiled.
Her gaze softened somewhat as she gauged my obvious confusion. “I’ve had the pleasure of eating your food a handful of times,” she explained. “I have … wonderful memories connected to it. You gave me something special.”
Though I’d had many people tell me they liked my food in the past, it hadn’t affected me like this. To be fair, I was taken off guard, and being in such a high-stress situation, I almost wanted to cry. Almost.
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice even. “That means a lot.” I looked up at Brax. “We’re going with Victoria.”
His brow twitched. There was no smarmy smile in place then. “Did you not hear what she said? She may not be able to keep Kane out of prison.”
I nodded, keeping my cool although my insides felt like dust. “I heard that part. I also heard that she’s the best at what she does, and I believe her. If we go somewhere else, not only could Kane go to prison, he could go for a lot longer .”
Brax’s eyes narrowed. “This is not your decision to make.”
Dread flooded my veins. It wasn’t. I didn’t know how all of this worked, but I guessed that Brax had power and access that enabled him to make these kinds of decisions. That was his job, wasn’t it?
“Actually, it is,” Victoria saved me from having to respond. “I’ve already been to visit Mr. Rhodes, and he informed me that Ms. Hart has power of attorney over all decisions pertaining to this case and his representation.”
It was the second time in as many minutes that this woman had caught me off guard. Kane had said that? Something bloomed within me. I didn’t have a ring or any kind of title to prove that I was Kane’s, but he’d found a way to make it clear even from behind bars.
Brax looked like his head was going to explode, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But if Kane goes to jail, make it known that it was your choice.” He pointed his finger violently at me.
Then he stormed out.
Everything passed in a blur. Quickly. Far too quickly.
The trial was expedited. Bail was refused.
On account of Kane’s ‘resources’ which included access to a private jet. He was a flight risk.
Victoria fought. Hard. I could see she was a force of nature in the courtroom. The problem was not just the D.A., who was indeed trying to make a name for herself. It was also the judge who had a bone to pick with those in the public eye. He didn’t even try to hide his contempt for Kane.
There was bias there. Even I could see it. Victoria was outraged. She fought the judge tooth and nail on every ruling, to the point of being threatened with removal from the courtroom multiple times.
In our meetings, I could see her trademark cool was being replaced with pure fury. I knew that fury would hit its mark, knew that those responsible would pay.
But that would be after Kane served time, that much was clear. Kane had already been found guilty of aggravated assault. The only victory that Victoria had gained was getting attempted murder off the table.
Gerald making the first move with the knife, stabbing Kane, seemed to do nothing to affect any charges.
“I’ll make it my mission for the rest of my career to end that judge’s tenure,” she said through her teeth as we awaited sentencing.
Gerald didn’t die. That was our one saving grace. He was even out of the hospital. Somehow, he hadn’t been charged either. And he’d been on a press tour not only to besmirch Kane’s name but mine too.
I’d finally found the courage to tell my story. To say who Gerald truly was. That courage was fueled by a desperation to punish Gerald, to wipe the label of ‘victim’ off his smug face and ensure Kane was not painted as the villain.
Kiera and Victoria set up the interview, with a female journalist at a well-respected publication, a New York institution.
I’d been nervous. More nervous than I had been in my entire life. I was almost drenched in sweat by the time they arrived at my apartment—we’d forgone her office on account of the subject matter. But Kiera was there. She was always there. Through the entire process, since I’d called her after I’d walked out of the lawyer’s office that very first day.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she assured me.
“I know. My problem is, I should’ve done this over a decade ago. It was the right thing then. Now…”
“Now it’s the right thing too,” she squeezed my bicep. “You do not place blame on yourself for how you deal with trauma men give you. Absolutely fucking not. You survived. You thrived. You created a powerful life for yourself in order to ensure you didn’t get victimized again.”
Her words struck true. Not just for me, but it made me recognize the similarities between my and Kane’s stories. Yes, the timelines, childhoods might’ve been different, but we’d both been victimized in different ways, both chasing power over our lives to deal with it. Mine with order, his with chaos.
And now his power was being taken away from him.
Again. And there was nothing I could do about it. I was powerless too. So I had to talk.
The interviewer was kind, fair, detached yet not unfriendly. She asked tough questions but ones that needed to be asked.
Once the article came out, the previously wild media circus turned nuclear. People had already swarmed the courthouse, my restaurant, my apartment. The news cycle was never-ending, obsessed with the story of Kane ruining his career because of being tangled up with a chef.
I’d been painted as the villain as, of course, only a woman could be responsible when two men battle.
But the tides changed with the interview. Sure, there were plenty of assholes who said I must’ve been ‘asking for it,’ more who said I was making up lies. But not many. Especially after the interviewer found more of Gerald’s students who had similar if not worse experiences. None of those women worked in kitchens again.
He stopped giving interviews then. He was fired from his restaurant, dropped from sponsorship deals. His life went up in flames.
It might’ve been satisfying to see if my own life wasn’t burning to cinders too. I wasn’t sleeping. Mike followed me everywhere since I was never not stalked by paparazzi.
My staff was quieter around me at the restaurant, the environment of my kitchen forever changed. I went through the motions every service, unable to stop staring at the spot where my life had changed forever. There were no blood smears there, it had been cleaned to shining, but I couldn’t stop seeing it.
My food was still good, it must’ve been. Not because of me but because of years of honed instincts, of highly trained staff who could run my restaurant without me.
I’d only seen Kane once.
Once. I didn’t know how the justice system normally worked, but surely, this wasn’t right.
“You’re too thin, Chef,” he said the second after he’d hugged me, inhaling my hair. Kissing my neck. My mouth. My forehead. “You need to take care of yourself.”
I took stock of him. He was still built with packed muscle, still devastatingly handsome, but his eyes were bloodshot, dark circles rimming them as if he weren’t sleeping.
“I’m fine,” I said, taking a seat next to him. “I’m focusing on you.”
I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to show weakness, wouldn’t give him any reason to worry about me, but I’d wanted to crumble right there and then, seeing him locked up like that.
“And I’m good, not goin’ anywhere.” He squeezed my hand. “We need to get you in a new apartment, one the press doesn’t know about. One with more security.”
“You’re worried about my security right now?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “No, we’re not doing that. You’re not pulling the protective alpha move, especially not right now when you need protection.”
He raised his brow playfully, a shadow of who he used to be. “You think these are just for show, Chef?” He flexed his biceps. “I can take care of myself if I must, but that’s not even an issue since they’ve got me segregated.” He scoffed at that. “Could do with some conversation, some distraction, even if it is dodging a shank.”
My blood went cold. “We do not joke about you getting shanked.”
His expression cleared immediately. “Heard, Chef.” There was a pause, the room far too quiet, too cold. Too sterile. I wanted to be in a bed with Kane. I wanted the noisy New York streets, I wanted coffee and reading the newspaper together as the city woke up.
I had the strong sense that I’d never get any of that again.
My lungs spasmed at the prospect.
“I saw the article,” Kane said, toying with our intertwined fingers. He hadn’t let go of me since I walked into the room. His hands on me were both a balm and torture. We could touch, hug and give chaste kisses but nothing else. I wanted to bury myself in him, but I couldn’t.
“So fuckin’ proud of you, Chef.” His eyes were clear, sparkling, reverent. “Takes a lot of courage to do that. Say the words out loud, let them be true. Takes a fuck of a lot more to serve them up to the world.”
I swallowed glass, willing myself not to cry. I wanted to reply. I couldn’t.
“I don’t regret it,” he continued. “In case you were wonderin’. Don’t regret it for a second, hurting him. I regret it hurting you .” His hand tightened around mine. “I regret it because it put a spotlight on you, a target on you that you don’t deserve.” His eyes simmered with rage, with guilt. “The good part of me says I should regret it purely for that, for putting any hurt on my woman. But that selfish, greedy, rage-filled part of me is infinitely glad I got to wet my knuckles with his blood. Not very evolved of me, Chef, but what can I say? I’m an animal deep down, protectin’ what’s mine.”
Mine .
He still considered me his. After everything. There was none of the blame I expected, felt I deserved, blame that certain sections of the country were sure I deserved. No, none of that came from Kane.
“I’m scared,” I admitted in a small whisper. “I’m terrified for you.” That was putting it lightly. I wouldn’t tell him about my nightmares, about sitting in the bottom of my shower, staring blankly at the tiled walls.
“Good,” he said simply. “Means there’s a chance of you being there waiting for me when I walk out of here.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I vowed without a second thought.
“Promise?”
I heard it then. The fractures in his tone, the way it wavered. The strong, cocky formidable man in front of me faded out for a moment, and the vulnerable, abandoned and unloved boy appeared in his place.
This time it was me who tightened the hold on our intertwined hands.
“Promise,” I whispered.
Sentencing was the next day.
The way this case had been fast tracked was very rare, Victoria told me. A good thing, considering bail had been refused.
He was given a year.
A year .
My blood drained from my body, and the whole world tilted when the ruling came down.
I noted the fury on Victoria’s face, her opening her mouth—presumably to argue with the judge—the judge’s sniveling, beady eyes narrowing on her, ruddy cheeks turning redder with obvious fury.
For the life of me, I didn’t know what they were saying.
My eyes were on Kane. They hadn’t left me since the ruling was announced.
He crooked his finger to me playfully, amongst the ruckus, as if we weren’t in a courtroom where one year of his life was just stolen from him but at a crowded party where we’d been separated for a few seconds.
Though my mind was reeling, my body knew what to do—obey Kane.
I was already at the front of the courtroom, I just had to stand and walk a few steps. My limbs were jelly as I walked woodenly to him.
When I was within grabbing distance, Kane grasped the back of my neck and drew me to him. Our mouths met, tongues clashing, the world around us long forgotten. It was just me and him.
For one blissful, magical moment.
Until our private world was interrupted, roughly and violently… the banging of a gavel.
“We gotta take you now,” a bailiff standing behind Kane said, almost apologetically.
Kane didn’t move, his lips brushing mine.
“You’ve got to let her go,” he urged.
“No, I don’t. Not ever,” Kane murmured to me. “You promise you’ll be there?”
“I promise,” I whispered.
“Then I’ll see you. Love you, Chef.” He gave my neck a squeeze then stepped back.
My body already ached from his absence. And it was the hardest thing I ever did, watching them take him away.
A terrified and knowing voice told me I’d never see him again.