Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Despite last night’s clusterfuck with Gabe, I feel surprisingly normal this morning.
Honestly, it’s a welcome change.
David and I are having breakfast in the suite’s dining area—coffee and croissants from room service, sunlight streaming through the windows, no crisis demanding immediate attention.
It’s almost peaceful. Almost like the life I thought I might have, before Gabriel walked back from the dead and set everything on fire.
“These sausages are incredible,” David says, reaching for his second one. “Remind me to tip whoever’s running the kitchen this week.”
“That would be Marcel. He’s been here since before I was born.”
“Ah, a lifer.” David grins. “Smart man. Job security and unlimited breakfast food.”
I smile, and for a moment, everything feels easy. Simple.
“I’m sorry.” I blurt out the words without thinking—apparently, I’m not happy without things being awry.
David’s brow furrows. “Whufer?” he says with his mouth full, and which I translate into what for.
“You know...” I gesture vaguely between us. “Everything. This. You.”
He swallows. “Bella.”
“You deserve better.” Now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. “You deserve someone who lights up when you walk into a room. Someone who isn’t still in love with a ghost. Or whatever Gabriel is now.”
“Zombie. I mean, he’s back from the dead.”
“I’m serious.”
He sighs. “I know.” For a moment, he’s quiet. Then he leans back in his chair, studying me with those kind brown eyes. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you keep hoping I’ll change.”
He shrugs, but there’s pain underneath the casual gesture.
“I keep hoping Global Warming will stop, too. But strangely, I don’t have as much control over the world as I’d like.
” He tilts his head, looking like a mischievous kid as he says, “At the very least, I hope you noticed that I’m a big boy now. ”
I roll my eyes and force myself not to laugh. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“I know,” he says. “But come on, Bella—do you think I’ve got such a huge ego that I can’t wrap my head around not being the guy for you?”
“I—no. It’s just...” I trail off, not sure how to finish.
“Am I worried? Yeah. Gabe’s a ticking time bomb as far as I’m concerned. That’s what you should worry about. Let me worry about me.” He reaches across the table, and I let him take my hand. His grip is warm, steady. “I knew what I was signing up for, Bella. I’ve always known.”
“David.”
“No. “Hear me out. “I’d rather have you in my life as a fake wife and real friend than not have you at all. Even if it means watching you pine for a man who doesn’t deserve you.” His voice hardens slightly.
“Not anymore. Maybe not ever. The Gabriel you loved? That man might have deserved you. But this version? The one who runs fight clubs and stalks you and accuses you of trying to murder him?” David shakes his head, then leans back, pulling his hand free of mine. “That man’s dangerous.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you know it here.” He taps his temple. “But here?” He moves his hand to his chest. “Here, you’re still hoping he’ll turn back into the man he used to be.”
I don’t have an answer for that. Mostly because he’s right.
I hear the lock turn, then the door opens, and Harper wanders in, oversized mug in hand. “Well, this looks heavy. Should I come back?”
“No.” I sit up straighter, grateful for the interruption. “It’s fine.”
She drops into the chair beside me, utterly unrepentant. “Don’t mind me. I love awkward emotional conversations over breakfast. Really sets the tone for the day.”
David snorts. “Your timing is impeccable as always.”
“It’s a gift.” She takes a long sip of coffee, eyeing us both over the rim. “For what it’s worth, pushing Gabe out of her mind isn’t going to cement you any closer to her heart. The heart wants what it wants, and all that poetic bullshit.”
I meet David’s eyes, relieved when he rolls his.
“Thanks for the input,” I say dryly.
She grins. Anytime. I’m like a fortune cookie. Full of unsolicited wisdom and occasionally stale.” She stands, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the table. “I’m gonna get more coffee. Back in a sec.”
“She’s right, you know,” David says as Harper disappears into the kitchen. “I’m not trying to push Gabriel out of your mind. I just...” He exhales. “I worry about you. What he’s doing to you. What he might do.”
“I can handle Gabriel.”
“Can you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re barely sleeping, barely eating, and every time someone mentions his name, you look like you’re about to shatter.”
I want to argue. I can’t.
“I do love you,” I say instead. “You know that, right?”
“Just not that way.”
I hold his gaze, letting the silence speak for me. An acknowledgment. An apology. Everything I can’t put into words because the words would be too cruel.
David nods slowly. “Yeah. I know.” He manages a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, though, right?”
“You’ll find someone.” The words feel inadequate. “Someone who deserves everything you have to give.”
“Sure.” He stabs some hash browns with his fork. “Or I’ll die alone, surrounded by cats.”
“You’re allergic to cats.”
“Then it’ll be a very short, sneezy death.”
Harper breaks the tension by popping out from the kitchen. “Well, hey. I’m available.”
David laughs—a real laugh this time. “Careful. I might take you up on that.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mercer.”
And just like that, the heaviness lifts. We’re all laughing, the three of us, and for one perfect moment, there’s no Gabriel, no bullshit gaming commission investigations, no father lurking in the shadows. Just friends enjoying the morning together.
Then the door bursts open.
My father storms in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.
At least for a little while longer. His face is flushed, a vein pulsing at his temple.
I recognize the signs immediately. I’ve seen this version of him my whole life.
The barely contained rage. The way his hands clench at his sides.
The cold fury in his eyes that promises pain for whoever caused his displeasure.
He’s beyond angry. He’s volcanic.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. Shoulders drawing in. Spine curving slightly. Making myself smaller, less of a target. Twenty-eight years of conditioning kicking in like muscle memory.
I force myself to straighten. To sit tall. To not give him that satisfaction.
“Out,” he snaps at David and Harper. “Both of you. Now.”
David is on his feet instantly, his body angling between my father and me. “I don’t think so.”
“I said out.” My father’s voice drops to something low and dangerous. “This is family business.”
“Bella is—”
“Not your concern.” Father steps closer, and I see the calculation in his eyes. He’s assessing David. Deciding how much of a threat he poses. “You may technically be her fiancé, but you’re not yet her husband. All you are right now is a guest in my hotel. Don’t make me reconsider my hospitality.”
David’s jaw tightens, a war playing out on his face—the desire to protect me versus the knowledge that escalating this will only make things worse.
I catch his eye and shake my head slightly. Whatever this is, it’ll be worse if he stays. My father doesn’t like being challenged, especially not in front of witnesses. If David pushes, Father will push back harder. And the person who pays the price will be me.
That’s always how it works.
David hesitates, every line of his body rigid with reluctance. Harper is already gathering her things.
“We’ll be in the bedroom,” David finally says, the words clearly meant for my father as much as for me.
Father doesn’t even acknowledge him. Just stands there radiating fury, eyes fixed on me until the door clicks shut. For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stare at each other across the sun-drenched room—father and daughter, predator and prey. I can hear my own heartbeat, loud and fast.
Then he breaks the silence. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice is low. Almost a hiss.
I stay seated. Force myself to take a calm sip of coffee, even though my hands want to shake. “Good morning to you, too, Father.”
“Don’t.” He stalks toward the table, plants his hands on the surface, and looms over me, getting so into my face I can see the broken capillaries in his cheeks. He looks older than he did a week ago. Older and meaner.
“Gaming commission investigations,” he says. “Twelve Hart properties over three continents, including the Monarch. Do you have any idea how much money this is going to cost us? How much damage control?”
“It’s going to be a nightmare, of course. But I’ve got a handle on the Monarch. It’s my responsibility now, not yours.
“Goddammit, you little bitch.”
“I didn’t file the damn complaints,” I snap, the outburst surprising both me and my father.
For a moment, he’s speechless. I think that may actually be a first. “No,” he says, his voice so low that tiny word sounds like a threat. Your psychotic ex-boyfriend did. The one holed up in a pathetic hotel. The one you’ve been sneaking off to see.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Everything about you is my business.” He straightens, starts pacing. “I’ve spent decades building this empire. Protecting this family. And you’re going to let some dead man walk back in and destroy everything because you can’t keep your legs closed?”
The crudeness shocks me, even from him. “That’s none of your business.”
“I don’t care what it is or isn’t.” He wheels on me, and I flinch before I can stop myself. I see him register the reaction. And I see the flash of satisfaction in his eyes.
He likes that I’m afraid. He’s always liked it. Not for the first time, I think about what my mother must have endured. I think the cancer that killed her when I was a toddler was probably sweet relief.
“You’re going to fix this,” he continues. “The gaming commission complaints need to go away. The merger needs to stay on track—if that falls through because of your lover’s vendetta, we lose everything.”
He takes a breath. “Most of all, Gabriel Grimm needs to disappear back into whatever hole he crawled out of.”
“Or what?”
The question surprises us both. I’m not sure I’ve ever challenged him so directly.
My father goes very still. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You ungrateful little bitch.”
“What did you do to him?” The words come out sharp. Fierce. I push back from the table and stand. “Five years ago. In Aspen. What really happened?”
Something flickers in my father’s eyes. Just for a second. A crack in the mask. And that tells me everything.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. He was shot. Beaten. Left in a burning cabin to die.” I step closer, searching his face for more cracks. “Someone made sure he’d believe I was involved. Wanted him to go to his grave believing the woman he loved wanted him dead. Why, Father? Why the hell would you do that?”
“Don’t be absurd. If Gabriel Grimm crawled out of a fire with brain damage, that’s not my problem.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have. You’re talking nonsense.
” He moves toward the door, then pauses, looking back at me.
The fury in his eyes has gone cold. Calculating.
This is the version of my father that terrifies me the most—not the volcanic rage, but the icy control.
“Fix the gaming commission problem. Keep the merger on track. And stay away from Gabriel Grimm.” His voice drops. “That’s not a request, Isabella.”
“And if I don’t?”
He holds my gaze. “Don’t test me, child. You should know better by now.”
He strides out, the door slamming shut behind him.
I stand there for a long moment, my hands shaking, my heart racing.
I was right about Aspen. I’m certain I saw fear on his face. Fear of being caught. Fear of being exposed. Fear of whatever truth he’s been hiding for five years.
I move to the window, then stare out at the Atlantic City skyline without really seeing it. Somewhere out there, Gabriel is fighting his own war. Planning his next move. Trying to decide if I’m his enemy or his salvation.
And somewhere in the past—in a fire that was supposed to destroy all evidence—lies the truth about what really happened that night.
My father knows. Maybe he ordered it. Maybe he just knows who did. But he knows.
I think about Gabriel. The web of scars on his shoulders. The bullet wounds that should have killed him. The rage that’s lived in him all those years.
Five years of planning and building and waiting, all because he believed the woman he loved had betrayed him.
Because someone made sure the last thing he’d ever believe was that I wanted him dead.
That’s not just murder. That’s salting the earth. Making sure that even if he survived, Gabe would never trust me again.
My father operates like that. Not just destroying his enemies, but making sure nothing can ever grow there again.
The door to David’s bedroom opens behind me, and I whip around to face David and Harper.
“Are you okay?” Harper asks.
“No.” I wrap my arms around myself. “But I’m going to be.”
“What did he want?”
“He just popped by to threaten me. To control me.” I look at each of them in turn. “To feel me out and make sure I don’t suspect the truth.”
Harper and David exchange a glance. “Truth?” David asks.
“About Gabe.”
Harper sucks in a breath. “You think your father was involved back then.” It’s not a question.
“I know he was involved.” The certainty settles into my bones, cold and heavy. “I just have to prove it.”
David frowns. “How?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to figure it out.”