The Risk Taker (Beaufort Billionaires #4)

Prologue

I can’t take my eyes off the scene.

Even though I know I’ll regret it, self-destruction takes over and my steps slow between the trees.

The sun shines down, its warm glow like a halo, illuminating those it touches.

The scent on the breeze is one of tropical flowers.

Light, soapy, lending a sense of magic and anticipation to the air.

The music flowing through the trees is smooth, each ivory pressed note calling out like an invitation to step into its inner folds. To where love and family connect.

A wedding.

I maintain my distance.

But I keep watching.

The bride walks through the trees, dressed in a silver-hued gown, her bouquet glittering in a way flowers wouldn’t, like it’s made from jewels instead.

Her gaze slides from the older man accompanying her and lands straight on mine. She falters while I stare back. Desperate and greedy. A hungry dog starving for scraps.

I focus on her face, so full of hope and joy, and the serene smile, aimed at me for the briefest fraction of a second before she turns back to the man and signals she’s ready to continue.

Ready to join her love. Take her vows.

Be welcomed into a family.

My chest burns.

“Just keep fucking walking,” I mutter, continuing my route through the trees that line the edge of the beach.

It’s self-torturing, but as I pass closer to the ceremony, I look again anyway.

I’m an outsider, stealing a slice of their happiness for myself.

A sliver of their peace.

My gaze lands on the white carpeted aisle. A small girl walks alongside the maid of honor, flinging petals from a basket. Her palms are dark, like she’s got paint or pen on them.

Each guest in the silver Chiavari chairs settles into a collective hum of adoration as she passes them, before their attention turns to the bride.

I lean against a trunk, resigning myself to the fact I’m going to watch even though I know I shouldn’t.

Just one more minute.

The little girl runs to a man in a tuxedo and is swept up into his arms. She hugs him, and he sinks his face into her dark curls like he treasures every single embrace he gets with her.

She moves back.

My heart doesn’t stop. It fucking vaporizes.

It’s him.

He has a daughter.

He has a daughter, and I had no fucking idea.

The dryness in my throat spreads through my body until I could disappear into a puff of dust.

He has a daughter. And he’s getting married.

The tree trunk supports my weight as I sag against it, waiting for the moment the bride locks eyes with him.

But he steps aside, revealing another man who is the real groom.

Silver-dusted hair. Blue eyes filled with warmth.

Ones that look at you with the kind of understanding only the most incredibly wise souls possess.

Ones that have built empires, loved their families, lived a thousand different lives.

Yet always make you feel they have all the time in the world for you should you need them.

Eyes that convey infinite love for their family.

Ones that will always put their family first.

Beauforts stick together.

My breath comes in a shattered rasp.

I see her next. Glowing like she always did, looking happy as her eyes flick to a guest who’s blocked from my view.

One by one, familiar faces swim into focus, making my eyes burn.

They’re all here.

Together. Content. Happy.

“Fuck,” I grind out, my voice breaking as I push off the tree. I slam my palm against the bark, hoping it’ll open up a black hole. A vortex to suck me away to a place where I feel nothing.

But feeling nothing would be a kindness. One I don’t deserve.

Why did I fucking walk this way?

I curse at my stupidity.

They never come here despite all the times I’ve passed the huge white ocean-front mansion.

The route is my own private hell. One I reveled in walking from time to time. So I could remember why this is the way things are. Why they have to be like this.

Today will be the last time I ever come this way.

The sounds of the wedding blur into the background, mixing with the gentle hum of the ocean until it’s all just white noise as I turn and walk away.

The sun beats down on my skin, like a billion warm fingers touching me. But I can’t feel a thing. I’m numb.

The day can be idyllic, beautiful.

But it can still rip your soul from your body like you’ve walked through Hell itself.

A perfect wedding for a perfect family.

One free from infection.

Because tumors run deep.

And they have to be cut out.

For the good of everyone.