I haven’t seen my half-brother in years. I’d love to have him remain, so we can get to know each other again. I’m not the little girl he left behind and he’s grown into a rather hardened man. But I can’t. Because I’m leaving with Sloane and I don’t know when that’s happening. There’s enough complications without Cash interfering.
Holding out my arms, I smile when he comes to me and embraces me, rubbing the back of my head. “I’ll be fine. Grandma and I have worked out a plan, so don’t worry.”
He grunts.
“Go whenever you have to,” I continue, blinking the water from my eyes. He smells like musk, mint, exhaust fumes, and the faintest hint of cologne. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you both came to see about me.”
My voice wavers. Other than Sloane, no one has gone through a lot of trouble on my behalf.
What about Crowell?
Yeah, what about him? Although he’s my friend, he’s stupidly selfish, too.
“We’re just a phone call away,” Josh swears, trading places with Cash.
It’s a shame Josh can drop everything in an emergency, but can’t schedule time for me on a day-to-day basis.
“Thank you.”
Not long after my brothers leave. I’m sad to see them go, however, I know I have family members who truly care about me and that’s all that matters.
Chapter Thirteen
Cassandra
“You’re awake, dear. Excellent.”
Mother’s voice grates through me and my head lulls to the side. If I could fold my arms and nod her away, I would. Money can buy anything. I need an Aladdin’s lamp, my own genie in a bottle.
“Awake?” I scoff. “You mean not sedated.” Because that’s the state I’ve been in for days. When I awakened from Parnell’s hit, I was in an ambulance. Not to be taken to a medical center. No. I’m hours away from Houston in a mental hospital.
“Yes, well, you needed to heal.”
“From Parnell’s punch? Was it that bad?”
Her lips tighten and she draws herself up. “He’s being dealt with. Georgie’s being helped, so I can focus completely on your recovery.”
Oh, what joy. I glare at her, which she ignores.
“Aren’t you going to ask where your daughter is?”
“I’d prefer to know Parnell’s whereabouts.”
She tsks.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Where’s Georgie?”
“With Sloane,” she answers, patting her hair as if she’s just announced something other than my worst nightmare. “When you’re stronger, I’ll tell you all of my reasons. Right now, I thought it best. She’ll listen to him more than she’ll take heed of an old woman like me.”
“Of course, Mother,” I reply sweetly.
“Following orders out of fear is effective, but she’s been through enough. He’s her contemporary and he seems to care about her.”
“So you chose to lock me away instead of her because…”
“I have an end goal.”
“Don’t you always?”
“Mother knows best, dear.”
Tears rush to my eyes because, in this case, she doesn’t. “He was my lover, so I don’t understand how it’s best she’s with him instead of me.”
“He was the man you locked your daughter up over,” she says sharply.
I flush. I never told her my reasons, but she knows me so well.
“You don’t really want him. You want your lovely husband.”
“Lovely?” I snort, the image of him fucking Abby rising to my head.
“Lovely,” she reiterates, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Forget Sloane Mason.”
“You don’t care that they’re lovers?”
“He’s not going to touch her again.”
Mother doesn’t look old, but her brain is ancient if she’s na?ve enough to believe that.
“His focus is protecting his own self. Trust me in this, Cassandra. When she returns in a couple of days, Sloane Mason will be a memory best forgotten.”
Hoping she’s correct, I change the subject. “I want to sleep,” I whine.
She nods and presses the button to call the nurse. It’s the only way I’ll settle down. While I’m outwardly calm, inwardly I’m seething. Sloane Mason will always be the one who rejected me because of Georgie.
I hate them both for it.
Georgie
“Georgiana?”
I must be dreaming. There’s no other reason to hear Maitland Carrington’s voice whispering my name. I have no business that I remember with Phoenix Rising’s drummer.
“Wake up,” he coaxes again.
Unable to resist his laid-back voice, I open my eyes and find his tatted fingers gripping my bedrails. The smile I offer him is groggy.
“Hey,” I croak through dry lips and an equally dry mouth. I shift in bed and flex my hand, surprised to find the IV removed. My wrists are still wrapped, but all the monitors are gone.
“Hey, kiddo. You’ve been released. I’m here to collect my little sister.”
My brows draw together. When I look towards the blinds, they are still closed, but no sunlight sneaks through. “What time is it?”
“Two AM.”
“But—“
“Sloane’s been here for six days, Georgiana,” he interrupts. “The press is circling, so we have to move you before word gets out about the reason.”