Chapter Thirteen #2
But talking about Isaac, about the night she found him—that would’ve ripped her open all over again. So yes. That’s probably all it is.
Probably.
Footsteps sound behind me. I look up just as Leoni appears, the flight attendant beaming as she directs her toward the seat beside me. I rise immediately, reach for her hand, and pull her in the last few steps, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“You okay?” I ask, searching her face.
She nods. “This feels weird,” she says as she lowers into the seat. I sit beside her, relaxing only a fraction. “You don’t like flying on the big airplanes?” she teases, nudging me with her shoulder.
The corner of my mouth lifts. Her playful tone hits me like relief—warm, steadying. She’s not acting differently. She’s not looking at me like she knows anything. She’s none the wiser.
Thank God.
“I like private planes with beds on board,” I murmur, nodding to the curtain near the back.
She follows my gaze, eyes widening before she lets out a helpless laugh.
“Anthony told me you went to the prison this morning,” I say carefully. “You went to see your father?”
I’d seen the visitor slip the day I picked her up after the fight with her mum. I never mentioned it, not wanting her to think I was prying, even though I was.
Her smile fades. “Yes.”
“How was he?”
“Different from how I remember.”
“Good different?” I ask.
She lifts a shoulder. “He was bigger. But I guess there’s not much else to do in prison except work out.”
“When did you last see him?”
Before she answers, the seatbelt light illuminates. I reach across her, fastening her belt with a quiet click.
“In court,” she says. “He pled not guilty. So me and Isaac had to stand there and talk about all the times he beat my mum.”
Her voice is flat. Emotionless. Too controlled.
I fasten my own belt, then take her hand, threading my fingers through hers. Her skin is cold.
“It happened a lot?” I ask softly.
She stares straight ahead, like she’s watching ghosts play out across the cabin wall. “He was an angry man,” she whispers. “And jealous. Insanely jealous.”
I want to pull her into me. I want to hunt down every bruise she ever watched happen and erase the memory of it. But I keep still.
“I’m sorry you witnessed all that,” I say.
She finally turns her eyes to mine. They’re glassy but determined.
“I didn’t want to like him,” she admits.
“I went there ready to hate him. But he was nice. And I know half an hour in a room doesn’t tell me who he is now.
It doesn’t erase the fact he used to pin my mum by her hair and punch her until she passed out. ”
Her breath shudders. My stomach twists.
“But for the first time in years, it felt like things might be okay,” she continues. “He seemed to care, as if he wants to protect me from everything that’s happened.”
The plane begins to accelerate down the runway, the engines deepening to a roar.
“I’m sure he’s always cared, Lee,” I tell her quietly. “Whatever happened between him and your mum doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. People can be broken and still love their children.”
She sighs. “I know. I just…I feel guilty for wanting a relationship with my own dad.”
Once we’re airborne, I signal for the airhostess and she saunters over smiling. “How can I help, Mr Baxter.”
“Champagne, please.”
“Are we celebrating?” Leoni asks.
I lean closer and kiss her gently. “I’m just happy, and I want to make the most of the next few days with you. No interruptions.”
She grins, tugging me back to her lips. “Umm, now what will you do with me, Mr Baxter?”
The villa belongs to my family.
It sits high in the hills, a pale stone fortress overlooking a small coastal town famous for its fishermen.
Every morning, boats haul in fresh catches that feed the locals and half the neighbouring islands.Eighty percent of the area’s revenue comes from that harbour, at least, that’s what the tourist guides say.
The guides don’t mention the darker side. The part where this town, and three others along the coast, are run by my uncle.
Antonio Baxter.
One half of the Baxter empire. The half that stayed in Italy when the brothers split everything down the middle. Toni took Italy. My father claimed the UK. And neither has forgiven the other since.
So, when I reached out to Toni and asked for a meeting, he didn’t hesitate.Curiosity, caution, maybe even opportunity—whatever it was, it got his attention. He agreed. Without my uncle’s say-so, stepping onto his land would’ve been a mistake. A fatal one.
Leoni didn’t notice the uncomfortable exchange when Toni’s men greeted us off the plane, the stiff nods, the subtle sizing-up, the way they insisted on accompanying us to the villa he insisted we stay in. I don’t blame them. If Toni showed up in London unannounced, I’d do the same.
“Are they just gonna linger in the doorway?” Leoni asks, peering through the bedroom window. “Wow, the view is stunning. Well, apart from all the muscle out there.”
I join her, lifting the net curtain. Four men stand by the gates—silent, armed, statues carved from stone.
“It’s how they do things here,” I lie smoothly. “The man I’m meeting is high-profile. We’re in his guest house, so… precautions.”
She nods, accepting it without suspicion, and turns back to the room with a bright smile.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, trailing her fingertips over the dark oak frame of the four-poster bed.
“And after my meeting,” I murmur, checking the time, “we’re going to explore every room.
” I wink as I grab my suit jacket, and she flushes.
“Until then, rest. Take a bath, the view is insane from the tub.” I open the en-suite door, revealing the freestanding bathtub framed by floor-to-ceiling glass.
Beyond it, endless mountains, drenched in golden afternoon light.
She gasps. “Wow.”
I press a kiss to her temple. “Enjoy. Be naked in two hours.”
She spins, laughing, then frowns. “You’re sure I’m not needed for the meeting? I can take notes.”
I grin at her innocence, at how blissfully unaware she is of the bloodline she’s just walked into. “No, Little Dove. Relax. Explore.”
Her shoulders drop with relief, her smile returning as she studies the view.
Toni stands the moment I enter the courtyard.
Men circle a large round table, hunched over battered playing cards, their fingers stained yellow from too many cigarettes. They glance up as I step inside, quick, assessing looks, the kind you give a stranger who might be a threat.
Anthony stays at the gate, eyes fixed outward on the street, hand close to his jacket in case things turn.
Toni smiles wide, like I’m the long-lost relative he’s been aching to see. I know better. His smiles are currency—given, spent, or withdrawn depending on what he wants.
“Warren,” he says, voice warm and booming. “It’s been too long.”
He pulls me into a hug, slapping my back twice. Men pretending affection, masking suspicion.
“Uncle Toni,” I greet, watching a few of the card players exchange looks at the word uncle.
His arm drapes around my shoulder as he turns us toward the table, rolling with my subtle announcement. “Meet my eldest nephew—Warren.”A few nods. A couple of narrowed eyes. They all file away the information, committing my face to memory.
Toni guides me through an archway into a small stone building off the courtyard. The kitchen looks older than the town itself, thick stone walls, cramped space, and an ancient aga radiating enough heat to choke the room.
I loosen my collar. He gestures to a wooden chair. I take it. He folds himself into the seat opposite, smile fading like a light switched off.
“What brings you here, nipote?”
“Business,” I say, not blinking.
“You told me my brother doesn’t know you’re here?” he asks. I shake my head. “Why?”
“Things are…strained,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I don’t think he’s fit to run Baxter Corporation much longer. But to overpower him, I need you.”
A smirk ghosts across his lips. “And what makes you think I’d deal with a man who goes behind his father’s back?”
“You and I are the same,” I say calmly, locking eyes with him. “We both like to win. We both prefer our operations quiet. My father doesn’t. His business is bleeding into the real world, spilling where it doesn’t belong. And I’m done cleaning up behind him. The best solution is to cut him loose.”
Toni leans closer, his elbows on the table, and his gaze sharp as a blade. “What sort of business are we talking about?” he asks.
“The old route,” I say. His eyes flash with surprise. “The one you and my father built together,” I continue. “The one that made the Baxter name what it is. Italy to the UK. Boats to trucks. Clean on the surface. Untouchable underneath.”
Toni sits back like I’ve hit him with a memory he wasn’t prepared for. “That route is dead,” he mutters. “Your father killed it.”
“No,” I say. “He killed it because he couldn’t run it without you. He got sloppy. Got greedy. Started pushing product through the wrong channels and put a target on our entire operation.” His jaw tics. “I’m not my father,” I add.
A slow smirk curves Toni’s lips. He’s hooked. He tries to hide it but fails. “You want to resurrect the route,” he says. “Without him.”
“Yes,” I answer. “But I can’t do it without you. You know every harbour, every captain, every customs officer who still owes you a favour. And I know every warehouse, every route, every contact in the UK that will run for me, not my father.”
Silence stretches. He drums his fingers on the old wooden table.
“If we bring it back,” he says, “we control both ends of the empire.”
“We rebuild it,” I correct, “with us at the helm. No more bleeding into the public eye. No more messy alliances. No more of my father risking everything because he refuses to step down.”
Toni studies me, the heat of the aga beating against both of us. “Why now?”
I keep my expression even. “Property is my passion. I want to expand, go out on my own. To do that, I need a steady flow from the other side, I can’t get that only dealing in the UK.”
“And you have the contacts?” I nod. “To take regular large shipments.”
“Yes,” I confirm. “Ready as soon as you are.”
“The woman,” he says, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Is she the reason you’re turning against your father?”
My blood pumps faster, whooshing in my ears. “My secretary, you mean?” I say firmly. “She’s here so my father didn’t get suspicious.”
He seems to accept it, pushing to stand. “We’ll discuss it this evening. Bring her to the rooftop for dinner.”
We shake hands, and I head out with Anthony falling into step beside me.
“Well?”
“He wants to discuss it later over dinner.”
Anthony shrugs, “That’s a good sign. At least he’s willing to discuss.”
“Or he’s luring me to my death,” I mutter, ducking into the car.
He gets in and starts the engine. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“He asked me to bring Leoni too.”
His head whips in my direction. “Why?”
I shrug. “I told him she was my secretary. That she came to keep my father from asking questions.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“He’s not stupid enough to talk business in front of her,” I add, already feeling the tension knotting in my stomach. “But it’s her I’m worried about. If she starts asking questions…”