And she couldn’t do it anymore.
Could she?
She rested her chin on her palm, staring at her reflection in the black screen of her laptop. Her eyes looked tired. Older. Sharper.
Maybe Eugene’s timing wasn’t accidental.
Maybe she deserved lunch with a man who didn’t have blood on his hands.
Maybe she deserved peace.
Winn was the first man to ever be with her intimately.
If she was ever going to have a sane life, it was ti to move on from Winn Kane.
Maybe not necessarily Eugene.
But she needed to at least test the waters again. Remind herself there were normal n out there. n who didn’t kill for her.
She deserved better.
She deserved calm.
She deserved peace.
*****
Winn arrived at the mall site—purposeful, sharp, vibrating with intensity. A white safety helt sat on his head, doing absolutely nothing to soften his presence.
He barked orders the mont his boots hit the gravel.
The site manager scrambled after him.
The foundation was progressing fast, faster than projected.
When he dread up this mall project two years ago, he had no idea what he was signing up for. He thought it would be straightforward. Buy land. Build. Profit. Move on.
He had underestimated everything.
The property alone had almost bankrupted him.
Dust floated in the humid morning air. Cent mixers humd.
He needed to be done quickly.
Because after this?
He had a sit-down with Maurice Heathcliffe and Sharona herself, to finalize the divorce proceedings.
He was DONE with this bullshit.
In fact, he had been done a year ago. But Sharona was a strategist. A long-ga player. And he had underestimated her capacity for chaos.
The bitch won—because he didn’t think she was capable of madness.
But Winn Kane was not a man who made the sa mistake twice.
Also he needed to talk to Sylvia. Reese had inford him she spent the night at his place.
Of course, his sister was a big girl but Winn still needed to know why in the world she always gravitated toward n who worked with him. As if his workplace was her personal dating pool. As if his subordinates were collectible toys on a shelf.
He didn’t ask Reese any questions—Reese was loyal, and too annoyingly noble to give details anyway—but Sylvia surely had a lot to answer for.
Winn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Life would be so much easier if his family wasn’t... well, his family.
He found a shaded area beside a stack of cent bags and settled there to observe the chaos of the construction site.
Heavy machines rumbled; the distant clang of tal hitting tal echoed across the lot; dust swirled in lazy cyclones, coating every surface in a fine layer of grit.
He was watching the workers align steel rods when Ivy’s SUV pulled in, driven by her bodyguard.
She stepped out, and the heat around him shifted.
This ti she was wearing reasonable shoes—a pair of clean white sneakers.
She looked like she hadn’t slept. Her hair was pulled into a loose ssy bun, so strands framing her face but damn, she still looked good.
Dangerously good.
He missed her.
But approaching her?
He knew better.
He knew he couldn’t.
Would she even look at him right again?
Winn didn’t think so.
He knew the mont she noticed his presence.
She didn’t look at him.
Ivy was pretending—poorly—not to see him.
She headed straight for the engineers, her notebook already open in her hand. She inspected the beams, took inventory of new materials, cross-checked the delivery sheets, and made observations.
He watched her from a distance, loved her from a distance, knowing he no longer had the right to enter. Ivy moved as she pulled out her phone. She began making recordings and taking pictures.
Winn knew exactly why—she was prepping updates for the investors.
He admired her competence as she zood into the foundation lines, clicked photos of the steel reinforcent. It made him proud. It made him ache.
She then slipped into a small golf-cart-like utility vehicle the engineers used to move around the massive construction site.
Winn watched the little vehicle buzz toward the far end of the lot—past the concrete mixers, past the scaffolding, past the workers hauling boards. Far enough that no one’s eyes could reach her.
He sighed and stood up, brushing dust from his trousers. Maybe it was ti to leave. Maybe it was ti to pretend seeing her didn’t squeeze his chest.
He was just turning when another car pulled up.
Of course.
Of course today wasn’t done humiliating him.
Eugene stepped out, spotted him and bead. "Hey Mr Kane!"
Winn forced his jaw to unclench. "Mr Rothschild."
Eugene stepped closer, hands in pockets, surveying the site. "Things look impressive here."
What was Winn supposed to say to that?
Thank you? For fucking my woman? For showing up with your stupid optimism?
Instead, Winn nodded.
Eugene continued, "Have you seen Ivy? I’m taking her out to lunch."
Winn inhaled slowly, reminding himself he was on his own site, surrounded by employees, and he could not commit murder today. "You know we used to date right?" he asked.
Eugene shrugged, casual as ever. "Yeah, I know you were engaged. But that’s over now. You are married."
Winn stared at him, taking in the confidence, the cluelessness, the easy grin.
Winn reined in his anger. "Keep details of your relationship away from or I am going to punch you in the face."
Eugene’s brows pinched in confusion. "You don’t still have a thing for her, do you?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.
"Get out of my face, Rothschild."
But Eugene, annoyingly steady, lifted his chin. "Well, I tried to be mature, Mr Kane," he said, aiming for calm diplomacy but landing sowhere between offended and disapproving. "Because you both are business partners. For Ivy’s sake, I will remain civil to you. But I beg you not to be disrespectful to , Mr Kane. I am not one of your staff."
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