by Naima Simone
“You’re no daughter of mine,” her father stated, the ice in his voice piercing her clean through, and then he pivoted on his heel and stormed out.
She absorbed that verbal blow, too.
“Devon,” Cain said, and she returned her attention to him, holding up a hand, palm out.
“No. Both you and my father have said more than enough,” she said, referring to the conversation she overheard. “For too long, I’ve passively allowed myself to go along with the men in my life. To be toyed with and maneuvered like a plaything. I’m done. There was a time I loved a man who didn’t love me in return, who used me. You might not want an ‘in’ like Donald did, but I won’t be your surrogate for venting your anger. I’ve never betrayed you. Never hurt you. I’ve only...”
Loved you.
But she held back those words. No, he couldn’t have that from her. Her heart might be shattering because of how much he filled it to breaking, but when she walked out of here, it would be with her pride. He couldn’t have that either.
“I’m through paying for someone else’s sins. I’ve been paying the price with my father for my mother dying and leaving him. I’ve paid the price for being too blind to see when a man wanted my father’s favor more than he wanted me. And with you, I’m paying for being his daughter. You’ve never seen me as more than that, Cain. And initially, I couldn’t blame you. But after getting to know me... After spending time with me... After being in me...” Her voice cracked on the reminder of how tender and loving he’d been with her, and how it’d all been a lie. “You once asked me who I really was. I hoped you would come to see that, know me for myself. But you never will. I will always be a reminder of the man who blackmailed you and threatened your mother. I’m so much more than that. And I’m tired of trying to prove it to you.”
“Devon,” Cain murmured, and for the first time his gaze softened, losing the edge that had been there since she’d intruded into the study. “I know who you are.”
“Too late,” she whispered, loving him and resenting him for saying that to her now. “I don’t believe you. I saw your face, your eyes when I walked in here. You thought I had sided with my father. The truth is he did ask me to approach you about that deal. He even instructed me to steal the info on it. But I couldn’t do that to you. And had I known he would attempt to blackmail you again, I would’ve told you about his desire to be in on the project. That’s my mistake—a mistake. The truth is, Cain, you can never trust me.”
He didn’t contradict her, which proved her wrong. She could hurt worse.
“I’ve been down this road before, Cain. I’ll put it in terms you might understand better. I’ve invested all of myself into a man I loved who couldn’t give me the same in return. I’d rather be alone, giving one hundred percent to myself, than receiving fifty from someone else. I’m worth one hundred. I deserve it.”
She stared at him for a moment longer, soaked in every feature of his beautiful, hard face because it might be the last time. Then she turned and left.
Without looking back.
Seventeen
A hard rap reverberated on the study door, but before he could growl for Ben to go away, the door swung open. Kenan and Achilles strode in.
Dammit.
Cain ground his teeth together and he leaned back in his office chair, not uttering a word as the two men approached the desk. It’d been three days since he’d been to the office—three days since his confrontation with Gregory Cole and Devon.
Devon.
Jesus, just the echo of her name in his head had him wanting to reach for the bottle of Scotch. Drinking himself into oblivion had temporarily helped him forget the dagger-sharp agony Devon’s words had sliced into him. But he could only down so much liquor. And after he’d crawled into the shower and dressed the next morning, he’d locked himself in the study, replacing Scotch with work. He could’ve gone in to the office—it would’ve made sense to escape the scene of the crime, so to speak. Call it punishment, but he remained in here, where the echoes of her remained to torment him, castigate him for the wrongs he’d committed.
I’ve been down this road before, Cain... I’ve invested all of myself into a man I loved who couldn’t give me the same in return.
He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, but the action couldn’t purge the impassioned statement from his head. He’d been analyzing it over and over like there was a puzzle buried in those words. She’d obviously been hurt before but could she possibly love...?
He shook his head. No, she didn’t. And there was no point in even considering it.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding yourself,” Kenan said, dropping into one of the visitors chairs in front of his desk. Achilles took up his post across from them, propping a shoulder against the wall. “We were trying to be patient and give you time to get over your Heathcliff impersonation, but apparently, you need a kick in the ass.”
Cain snorted. “Heathcliff?”
“What?” Kenan shrugged. “I read.”
“You look like shit,” Achilles rumbled, and the blunt assessment had Cain’s spine snapping straight.
“I didn’t ask either of you for your opinion or to come over here. What do you want? Shouldn’t you be at work?” he growled.
Kenan arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you? I thought you’d be too worried to leave the bastard Farrells at the office without your careful supervision.” He tsked. “Falling down on the job, Cain.”
“Are you trying to piss me off? Because it’s working,” Cain said, not bothering to keep the menace out of his voice.
“Good,” Achilles grunted. “Then maybe you can get that stick out of your ass about every-fucking-thing and stop treating us like the enemy. We want to be here as much as you want us here.”
“I doubt that,” Cain snapped. “You two think you’re doing me a favor by staying here, because you have to give up a year of your life? Try thirty-two. Thirty-two years of hell living, working with and suffering at the hands of a cold, manipulative, vicious bastard. Yes, I want you here. Would’ve begged you to stay here because everything I endured with that man had to mean something.”
The words exploded from him in an ugly, bitter torrent that he couldn’t stop. Kenan stared at him, and Achilles slowly pushed away from the wall, straightening.
“What does that mean, Cain?” Achilles growled.
Unlike the previous times, the truth burned a trail up his throat, and he didn’t hold it back. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Not anymore.
He told them everything—about his childhood with their father, the abuse, even about Gregory Cole’s blackmail and his relationship with Devon. Through it all, Kenan and Achilles remained silent, not asking questions, just allowing Cain to purge his soul in a way he hadn’t even done with Devon. When he finished, his breath grated against his throat, and the labored sound echoed in the quiet room.
Achilles moved toward him in his oddly graceful gait, and in moments, he’d pulled Cain into his arms, holding him tight. It should’ve been weird, being embraced by this giant, but no. It was...family. Tears burned his eyes as the burden of anger and bitterness that he’d borne since the reading of that damn will crumbled and fell. And for the first time since they all met in this house, he could call this man brother.
“I’m sorry, Cain,” Achilles muttered in his ear. “I’m sorry you had to suffer that shit. None of us should.”
The curious choice of words struck Cain, and he suspected that maybe his younger brother could more than sympathize with him about being on the end of an abusive person.
Achilles neither confirmed nor denied anything, but released Cain with a squeeze of his shoulder.
“Now I want to dig the bastard up, kill him and then bury him all over again,” Kenan spat, standing in front of the desk. He shook his head, his blue-gray eyes shadowed. “I’m sorry, Cain. About everything.” A mu
scle ticked along his jaw, and his mouth hardened. “I knew something was off about Gregory Cole. And I’m not going to lie, I had my suspicions about the relationship with Devon. But you only need to be around her for five minutes to realize she’s not like her father. She proved that by going against him to give you the material on your mother.” His voice lowered but didn’t lose the adamant edge. “I know we haven’t been in each other’s lives for very long, but you are my brother. And so I’m going to tell you this—you fucked up by letting her walk away.”
“I didn’t let her walk away,” Cain insisted. “And she was right about one thing. I don’t know if I could trust her. I don’t know...” How to explain that his greatest fear wasn’t losing the company. It wasn’t even leaving his mother exposed to Gregory’s extortion.
It was letting someone in, loving them, and being hurt by them.
It was opening his heart and being deemed unworthy...unlovable. That fear had kept him from committing to anyone or anything except his job. Because the work, the company, he could control. Other people? Their hearts? Hell, his own heart? No.
“If you can’t trust her, then who?” Achilles insisted. “I get it, Cain.” In his eyes, identical to Cain’s, he again saw the shadows that deepened his suspicion about his brother’s past. “But you deserve happiness if any of us do. And she’s it for you. I don’t care how this started, we saw how she looked at you...and how you looked at her. Don’t continue letting your father control and manipulate you from the grave.”
That man has stolen so much from you. Your childhood. Your innocence. Your brothers.
Achilles, Kenan, Devon... They were right. Barron had stolen so much more than his childhood. He’d robbed Cain of his ability to believe in the innate goodness in people. If the man who was supposed to love and protect him had hurt him so deeply, had destroyed his trust, how could he have faith in, depend on, others?
He couldn’t. He could only trust himself.
But not with Devon.
From that first meeting in his mother’s garden, she’d shown him compassion, kindness, humor, given him comfort. Him, a stranger to her at the time.
He’d asked who she really was. The shy, funny woman from the garden? The loyal daughter? The gentle, loving youth coordinator? The passionate lover?
His answer: all of them.
And he loved each one.
God, did he love her.
Maybe he had from the moment she admitted to wondering about the color of his eyes. Or when she’d called out everyone in that god-awful party for being ghoulish when he’d needed comfort.
The exact second didn’t matter. What did was that he’d allowed her to leave him without any intention of brightening his life again.
“I fucked up,” he whispered.
“Yeah, you did,” Achilles agreed, nodding.
“But luckily you have something on your side now that you didn’t before,” Kenan announced.
Cain frowned. “What?”
Kenan spread his arms wide. “Me,” he scoffed.
Achilles snorted, and Cain laughed. An honest-to-God, full-belly laugh from a place that had been locked up tight for so long.
He felt good. He felt...free.
He had his brothers.
Now he had to go find the woman he loved and convince her to give him another chance.
He had nothing to lose, and the world to gain.
Because Devon was his world.
Eighteen
Devon sighed as she entered the lobby of the community center. A fatigued but good sigh. It’d been a long day, but she loved those. Especially now. They tired her out, didn’t leave her time to think. And by the time she arrived home—home now being her apartment in Charlestown—she ate whatever takeout she picked up and dropped into bed.
For the first time, she was on her own—no, that wasn’t true. The past weekend, she’d driven the five hours to New Jersey to spend the weekend with her family. It’d been like stepping back into the past when everything had been innocent and happy. Being with her aunts, uncles and cousins had been a balm to her battered soul. The only hairy moment had been when her aunt had asked about Cain and her father. She’d been so tempted to unload everything. But in the end, she’d just said they were both fine and left it at that. As selfish and, hell, criminal, as her father had been, she didn’t want to tarnish his image in his brothers’ and sisters’ eyes.
She might have walked out of all of this with a broken heart and a permanent rift with her father, but at least she had her family back. She called that a win.
Even if she stared at the ceiling for hours with burning eyes before falling to sleep from sheer exhaustion. Only to dream about a beautiful man with wolf eyes.
It’d been a week since she’d last seen Cain. Time. That’s all she needed to get over him. And she would. One day.
“Finally leaving for the evening, Devon?” Harry, the security guard on duty, called out to her.
She smiled at the older man. “Finally,” she said. “And there’s a Netflix binge with my name on it.”
He laughed. “My wife just watched that show starring the Superman guy. Except he has white hair like that elf from The Lord of the Rings. She loved it. A little too much, if you ask me.”
Devon grinned. “Tell her she has great taste.” Waving goodbye, she exited the building, headed down the sidewalk toward the small parking lot. Tomorrow started the basketball tournament so she would need to arrive early to—
“Devon.”
She swallowed down a yelp and raised her fist, keys poking out between her fingers. But then she saw the man pushing off the brick building and taking steps in her direction.
Shock ricocheted through her, and she couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but stare at Cain as he approached her. Against her will, she scanned the starkly beautiful lines of his face. Met the gaze that never failed to send her pulse pounding. Her fingers itched to stroke the full, sensual mouth and the rock-hard line of his jaw. She curled those traitorous fingers into her palm.
“Cain,” she rasped. Paused, and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”
He slid his hands in his front pockets, the action stretching his shirt over his wide chest. God, she tried not to notice. “I’m here for you.”
Not “to see you.” But “for you.”
What did that mean?
Didn’t matter. She didn’t care—couldn’t care.
“You need to go,” she said, injecting steel into her voice that she fought to feel. But with him standing there in front of her, the resolve not to touch him, not to get within five feet of him wavered. He hurt you, dammit, she hissed at her wayward, glutton-for-punishment heart. And as much as she longed to curl up against his chest, she refused to settle for scraps of his affection or love. “Really, just leave.”
“Devon,” he said, and after a brief hesitation, shifted forward. Under the light of the streetlamp, she caught the faint shadows under his eyes. They reminded her of how she looked in the morning after a sleepless night, before she applied concealer. “I don’t have the right to ask this but please, hear me out. And if you still want me to walk away and never bother you again, I will.”
It was the “please” that gave her pause. A man like Cain didn’t say it often. With a jerk of her chin, she nodded. But instead of talking, he lowered his head, studying the sidewalk. Finally, he released a soft, self-deprecating chuckle.
“I had what I wanted to say all planned out. It was going to be simple and straight to the point. Kenan has connections at Boston University and wanted me to come here with the marching band.” He lifted his head, and surprise rippled through her again at the sight of the true smile curving his mouth. As did the casual mention of his half brother. “But I turned him down. Even if they were going to play ‘I Will Always Love You.’” She rocked back at that a
dmission, her lips parting on a wheeze of breath, but Cain continued. “I don’t need gimmicks to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so damn ashamed of how I treated you. It was unfair, assigning someone else’s sins to you. I, more than anyone, understand we’re not our parents. And you...” He huffed out a breath, his voice taking on a reverent tone that belonged to works of art, to prayers, not her. Especially not from him.
But it was there. For her.
“You’re the best of all of us. Beautiful. Kind. Selfless. So damn brave it terrifies and shames me. Loyal. And mine.”
She stumbled back a step, rocked by that impassioned claim. Self-preservation made a last-ditch effort to save her from herself, and she raised her arm, palm out. “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more. I can’t...”
But Cain didn’t listen to her. He strode forward until her hand pressed to his chest. And dammit, her fingers rebelled again by curling into the dense muscle. He covered her hand with his bigger one, holding her to him.
“You were right, Devon. You deserve one hundred percent of a person. Their fidelity, their security, their protection, their passion, their heart. Their soul. And, sweetheart, you have all of that from me. You’ve owned me for so long, but I was too afraid to let you in, to risk you seeing the real me and deciding I wasn’t worthy enough. I was afraid to trust that my heart was held by the gentlest of hands—that it had found its home. You own me, Devon,” he repeated on a jagged whisper. “And maybe because of how I’ve hurt you, I’m not worthy of you, but I promise I won’t stop trying to be. You are worth the fight. Because I love you.”
