"I want a divorce; she wants to make it work."
"You don't need to explain anything to me."
His eyes were on me, but this time he was seeking something he needed. "We don't work. We never will. I care about her, but I don't love her."
"You don't even like her. Of course, you don't work. Your marriage was a business deal that filtered over from the office to the bedroom. You married her to appease him."
"And you'll marry Cress to appease me?"
I quickly shook my head. "No, if she agrees, I'm doing this because I understand the position you're in. You're asking because you want what's best for our family. Our father asked, or rather demanded, that you marry Sasha for purely selfish reasons. It's not the same. It won't be the same."
"Isn't it though?"
"No, if it happens, it's my decision. I have a choice; you never did."
With one last glance, I exited my brother's vehicle, closed the door, and never looked back. He didn't need my pity or sympathy. Only my understanding. He would always have that, and he would never have to ask.
* * *
"You left without telling me."
"I don't need to tell you when I leave town."
"You work for me. You…"
"With you, not for you. I have always been clear about what my role would be with your organization. I don't answer to anyone, least not you."
Remo was quiet. He wanted to throw his weight around, and had anyone else addressed him the way I just had, he would have. He knew better. Remo welcomed me into his organization because he would rather have me as a friend than an enemy.
"When are you coming back? I'm having to move people around to cover what I rely on you for."
"I don't know. My brother needs me right now."
"The same brother that turned his back on you when your parents did?" Remo hissed in frustration.
"Careful. You do not want to travel down that road with me."
My brother made the decision that was required of him. He always stood by me, but he had a responsibility to our family that I refused to take on. I never blamed him for cutting ties. Or rather, the appearance of cutting ties. He and I were always connected; we simply kept our distance because it was necessary.
"Yeah, no. I don't. If you decide to come back, the door is open. Always."
"I'll keep that in mind," I rattled off before ending the call. I respected Remo, but I didn't have friends or ties. Business was business. If and when I walked away, I would do so and never give it a second thought. Remo knew that about me. It's one of the qualities he admired the most because it worked in his favor. A lethal man with no emotional ties was a rare commodity.
Remo wasn't important to me at the moment. The proposition that was on a timeline had me anxious to the point of needing to expend some additional energy. I refused to go on another run and instead settled for doing a little research on my bride-to-be.
I settled into the small sitting area of my suite, unlocked my phone, and quickly typed in Cress Devereaux. My feed was instantly flooded with articles, several of which had videos attached. I navigated to the most recent, which was three months prior, where she'd danced the lead to Gisselle.
With greedy impatience, I bypassed the article and moved directly to the video clips. There were three, each a couple minutes long. As soon as the first one began, my focus was trained on the screen.
This woman.
Cress was beyond talented. The way she moved with ease and grace, as if it were as natural as breathing, impressed me. Her agile body, showing subtle curves that weren't typical for dancers, moved in ways that made it appear as if she were gliding. She told a story with her movements, becoming one with that story to the point where it oozed from her soul in heady, mesmerizing waves. I didn't give a damn about classical dance. I never had any interest, but Cress had me completely engaged. One video after another, my fingers moved, and while she was on the screen, my eyes remained transfixed. Before long, I realized an hour had passed. An entire fucking hour of me watching short clips of Cress Devereaux dancing classically
I would be the first to admit that seeing her in those clips didn't remotely compare to the way she'd moved last night on stage adorned in diamonds, but she had my attention all the same. My body was just as engaged as my mind because my dick was still as hard as a brick, pressed against my thigh.
I laughed, arrogantly shaking my head as I locked my phone and threw my head back against the seat.
Cress Devereaux is going to be my wife.