The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(85)

I don’t regret that choice. “I did what I had to do to lure him away from you.”

“Lure him?” She frowns.

“Why do you think I abruptly left the bed?” I reply. “My private detective called me when one of his men followed him to the city. He was on his way to the building.”

“The penthouse? Oh, wow …”

“I know, it’s a lot to take. I always assumed he’d go straight for Jasmine once his memories came back. But that night really changed him. Made him angry to the point of obsession.”

“With me,” she adds, gulping down the nerves.

I squeeze her knee. “I don’t think you have to worry about him anymore.”

“Why not?” She anxiously looks at the door and the window. “He’s still out there, somewhere. Waiting for another chance.”

“I saw the way he looked at me when I fell off that cliff, and it hurt to watch. He doesn’t want me dead. Despite the fact that he wanted to kill you, I don’t think he knew what he was doing. Or what the consequences were. That he’d also hurt me in the process.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Hurting you means hurting me.”

Her lips part. “Oh …”

I nod now that she’s finally getting it.

“And as long as you’re with me, I don’t think he’ll be back,” I say as I part her legs with my hands, scooting closer.

“That’s convenient for you,” she retorts, playfully raising her brow.

“I know, quite the hassle, having to keep you near me,” I quip. “So where am I supposed to lie down now that you’re sitting on my bed? On top of you? Because I will do it.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh my God, stop.”

I grab her hand and press a kiss on top. “Luca will do.”

“Luca!”

My mother’s voice makes me turn my head like a goddamn owl.

“What the hell—?”

She runs in to hug me so hard my throat is locked in her elbow. “Jesus Christ, woman,” I growl when she finally releases me.

My father steps in and growls back, “Don’t you greet your mother that way, boy.”

“We’ve been calling you for days, and you never picked up!” my mother yells.

I frown. “How did you know where I was?”

My mother looks at Jill. “Your sister kindly told us the truth.” Then turns her head to me and folds her arms. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you and Jill had a fight.”

A fight?

What the fuck is she talking about?

“Yeah, she told us you two fought, and then both fell off a cliff. Again.” Mom rolls her eyes at Jill. “Luckily, she wasn’t driving a car this time, or you would’ve both died.”

What the hell?

“What did Jasmine tell you, exactly?” Jill asks.

So she doesn’t know either?

“Your parents called us. She told them you had a falling out and that you’d called her all distressed to come and pick her up at that same cliff.” She sighs, visibly shaken by the mere idea of losing her second son too. “I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

Well, I guess that’s a relief. She actually cares about Jill for once.

“Can’t have my son bury a goddamn wife this early in his career. Imagine the fucking vultures waiting in line,” my father scoffs.

Of course. Why would they care about anything other than the business?

I try to turn around, but the twist tears at the wound, and I hiss from the pain.

“Yikes, what happened to your side?”

“Uh … fell on a branch,” I lie.

If we’re going with this story … I’m going to spin it in my favor.

Jill looks at me with an awkward smile on her face.

“So, have you two settled your argument?” my mother asks, eyeing Jill. “Or do I need to find my son in the hospital again in the future?”

I block her view by parking my wheelchair in front of Jill. “It was my fault. I told her I’d never let her out of her room.”

My father laughs out loud. “Once a De Vos, always a De Vos.”

“Lex …” my mother sneers. “You can’t be serious.”

“What? Like we didn’t have the same problem.”

“And we figured it out too,” my mom retorts.

“We have,” Jill interjects, and she throws me a look. “We’ve figured it out. Right, Luca?”

“Yes,” he replies quickly, looking up into her eyes. “We’ve talked it out. She can go wherever she likes. In and out of the penthouse.”

She blinks a couple of times as if she didn’t hear me.

“I don’t want any more problems getting out,” my father says. “Our family must not—”

“Appear weak,” I fill in for him. “I know. I’ll be up from this chair in no time. Don’t worry.”

“You’d better. I need you back up and running in a couple of days. There are more partners we need to meet.” He briefly throws a look at Jill. “Can she be trusted?”

He wants to know whose side she’s on.