Chapter Two KAI’S POV
1519 Words
"You're distracted."
I didn't look up from the construction blueprints. "I'm reviewing the timeline for the Apex opening."
Derek Stone dropped into the chair across from me. "You've been staring at the same page for twenty minutes. What's really going on?"
Marco was having a family dinner tonight. Which meant Isla would be there. Five years of keeping my promise to Marco that his sister was off-limits. Five years of watching her date other men and pretending I didn't care.
"The new lead designer starts tomorrow," I said. "Grace Kim finally made her decision."
"And?"
"Isla Moretti."
Derek's eyebrows shot up. "Marco's sister? The one you've been…."
"Don't." I closed the blueprints. "It's a professional relationship. She's talented."
"Right. Professional." Derek's smirk was infuriating. "That's why you personally requested Grace submit her portfolio."
"The Apex needs the best," I said. "Personal feelings don't factor into business decisions."
"Keep telling yourself that." Derek stood, heading for the door. "Just remember what happened last time you let personal and professional mix."
My jaw tightened. "That was different."
"Was it?" He paused. "Sarah died because of…."
"Get out."
He left. I sat in silence, Sarah's name echoing in my head. My ex-girlfriend. Dead for five years because I'd cared about someone, because I'd wanted something beyond business.
She'd been driving angry after an argument about Isla. After threatening to tell Marco about my feelings. After I'd broken up with her because I couldn't pretend anymore.
I'd killed her as surely as if I'd been behind the wheel.
My phone buzzed. Marco: *Dinner at 6. Don't be late.*
I typed back: “I'll be there.”
I shouldn't go. But I'd been going to Moretti family dinners for seven years. Missing one would raise questions I couldn't answer.
Elena texted: “Dad wants to see you before the board meeting next week. Says it's urgent.”
Thomas Westbrook never just wanted to talk. He wanted to control, manipulate, remind me that despite building the company into what it was today, I'd never be good enough.
I ignored Elena's text and pulled up the Apex project files. Tomorrow morning, I'd see Isla at the construction site. Tomorrow, I'd have to maintain professional distance while working inches away from her for months.
Tonight, I just had to survive dinner without Marco noticing that I couldn't stop watching his sister.
******************
The Moretti house smelled like garlic and tomatoes when I arrived. Maria opened the door, pulling me into a hug. "Kai! Marco's in the living room with Brandon. You remember Brandon Mitchell? He and Isla dated for a while."
Every muscle in my body went rigid. "Brandon's here?"
"Yes, such a sweet boy. He and Isla are working things out, isn't that wonderful?" Maria disappeared into the kitchen.
Working things out. Isla was back with that pretentious real estate agent. I'd hated him on sight two years ago, and the thought of him touching her made me want to put my fist through a wall.
I found Marco in the living room, beer in hand, laughing at something Brandon said. He waved me over. "Kai! Brandon was just telling me about this property in Tribeca."
"I'm not looking to expand right now." I accepted the beer Marco handed me, barely glancing at Brandon. "Where's Isla?"
"Upstairs. She's been weird all day." Marco frowned. "Actually, she's been weird for months. You haven't noticed anything off when you see her at dinners?"
I see everything. I notice when she stops eating because she's anxious. I notice when she forces smiles that don't reach her eyes. I notice when she leaves rooms the moment Brandon enters them.
"I don't pay that much attention to your sister," I lied.
Brandon smiled. "She just needs someone to take care of her. Make decisions so she doesn't have to worry so much."
The beer bottle creaked in my grip. "Isla seems perfectly capable of making her own decisions."
"Of course," Brandon said smoothly. "I just meant that sometimes women need a man to…."
"To what?" The words came out sharper than intended.
Marco looked between us, confused. Brandon's smile tightened. "To support them. That's all I meant."
Footsteps on the stairs. Isla appeared in the doorway, and my heart did that stupid thing it always did when I saw her. She'd changed into jeans and a green sweater that made her eyes look like emeralds.
Then she saw Brandon, and every trace of color drained from her face.
"Isla!" Brandon crossed the room before she could retreat. "I made a reservation for Friday night."
"I didn't agree to that." Her voice was steady, but I caught the tremor underneath.
"Come on, baby. Don't be like this in front of everyone." Brandon reached for her hand.
She stepped back. "I'm not your baby. We broke up, Brandon."
The room went silent. Marco's beer stopped halfway to his mouth. "You broke up? When?"
"Three months ago." Isla kept her eyes on Brandon. "I told you it was over. I asked you not to contact me anymore."
"You were emotional," Brandon said, still smiling. "You didn't mean it. Couples fight, they work through things."
"I meant every word." Her hands were shaking. "We're done. I need you to accept that and leave me alone."
"Isla, be reasonable…."
"She said no." The words came out before I could stop them. Everyone turned to look at me. "She asked you to leave her alone. That seems pretty clear."
Brandon's expression hardened. "This is between me and my girlfriend."
"Ex-girlfriend," Isla corrected.
"Stay out of this, Westbrook. This doesn't concern you."
Marco finally found his voice. "Wait, back up. You broke up three months ago? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I knew you'd react like this." Isla's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I didn't want the drama."
"Drama?" Marco's voice rose. "Some guy is harassing my sister and you call it drama?"
"I'm not harassing anyone." Brandon held up his hands. "I'm trying to save a relationship. If everyone would just calm down…."
"Get out." The words came from my mouth, low and dangerous.
Brandon laughed. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Leave."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Brandon took a step toward me. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
I was moving before conscious thought kicked in, crossing the space between us. "Touch her again and you'll understand exactly who I am."
"Kai." Marco's hand landed on my shoulder. "What's going on?"
Everything was going wrong. I was supposed to keep my distance. I was supposed to stay uninvolved. But Brandon was still here. Still talking about Isla like she was property. Still refusing to hear the word no.
"He needs to leave," I said, keeping my eyes on Brandon. "Now."
"Isla?" Marco ignored Brandon, focusing on his sister. "Do you want him here?"
She shook her head, a single tear escaping. "No."
"Then get out, Brandon." Marco's voice was cold. "And don't come back."
Brandon's mask finally slipped, showing the anger underneath. "You're all going to regret this. Especially you, Isla. You think you can just walk away from me? After everything?"
"That sounds like a threat," I said quietly.
"It's a promise." Brandon headed for the door, then turned back. "I'll see you around, baby. We're not finished."
The door slammed. Maria appeared from the kitchen. "What on earth is going on?"
"Brandon won't be joining us for dinner," Marco said tightly. He turned to Isla. "Why didn't you tell me he was bothering you?"
"Because I thought I could handle it."
"Handle what? What else has he done?"
Isla's eyes met mine for just a second, and I saw the fear there. The exhaustion. The shame.
"We'll talk about it later," she said. "Can we just have dinner?"
Maria nodded. "Dinner's ready. Everyone sit."
We moved to the dining room in tense silence. I took my usual seat across from Isla. She wouldn't look at me.
Marco sat heavily. "Three months, Isla. You kept this from me for three months."
"Can we not do this now?"
"When, then? Because apparently you don't tell me anything anymore."
"Maybe because you treat me like I'm twelve!"
The argument escalated. Maria tried to mediate. I sat frozen, watching Isla unravel, knowing I'd made everything worse by interfering.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number with a photo attached. I opened it and my blood ran cold.
It was Isla. Walking to her apartment. Taken from across the street. Taken today.
The text read: “She's pretty when she thinks no one's watching. Would be a shame if something happened to her.”
I looked up to find Isla watching me, her argument with Marco trailing off. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't tell her. Couldn't tell anyone without explaining why Brandon had sent this to me specifically. Without revealing that I'd been paying attention. That I cared.
But I also couldn't let her go home alone tonight.
"Isla," I heard myself say. "We need to talk. Alone.”
d: “It's not over until I say it's over.”
- Writer
