Page 144 of Rebel Hawke

I want to argue with her about that, but she isn’t wrong.

From the beginning, I promised to be honest with Wren, and I always have been up to this moment. I’ve never had any reason to lie to her, nor would I ever keep anything important from the woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with. But this is Satriano we’re talking about. And a request—no, a demand—that could destroy everything her grandfather, she, and I have bent over backward to accomplish.

“I’m sorry, Little Bird.”

My voice catches, and I swallow the boulder that seems to have lodged in my throat, retreating. Needing to put some distance between us before I do or say something I can’t take back and put her in even more danger.

Wren takes a step toward me, her hands tightening at her sides, not letting me run. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Too many things to count.

That she spent all this time helping me when she could have been concentrating on continuing to grow her business…

That I monopolized her since she arrived back in New Orleans when she could have spent time with her grandfather before he died…

That I have snapped at her and taken out my own frustrations on the best thing in my life…

She has kept me going through all the times the pain got so bad that I wanted to quit, and now, that man is asking me to do just that. To throw away everything I’ve worked for, thatshehas worked for, that Jenkins did.

I release a long sigh, closing my eyes and dropping my head forward. “I’m just sorry for everything.”

Wren’s arms wrap around me, and she presses her face to my chest. I lower my face into her hair and hold her tightly. Each breath I take, I inhale her calming scent, taking it deep into my lungs, trying to let it soothe away the agony I’ve felt since Satriano said those words.

“I want you to throw the fight.”

A shudder rolls through me.

She squeezes me, then lifts her head, staring up at me through thick, black lashes. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

I palm her cheeks, dragging my thumb across the scars along her left jawline. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Little Bird. I swear. If it were, I would tell you.”

It’s a lie.

A huge one.

And I never want to lie to this woman.

But Ican’ttell her the countless hours and pain have been for nothing because Coen made a stupid fucking decision that could bury us all.

It isn’t about the money for Satriano. If it were, this would already be over where my cousin was concerned. I would have paid him in the backseat of that SUV today with one simple bank transfer. Coen’s bet is nothing, a drop in the ocean if the Hawkes needed to pony it up to protect him.

Satriano knows that all too well.

The bastard reveled in knowing I could pay it but that he’d never take the offer—because it isn’t about the ten million; it’s about the power the debt will give him over Coen.

I’m sure the man doesn’t want to losebillionsfrom other wagers made when he set the odds, but when it comes to the Hawkes, having leverage is worth more than any dollar signs.

He kills two birds with one stone by making me take a dive—protects his businesses from a huge loss and gets power he’ll certainly use over someone he otherwise could never sink his claws into.

Fucking Coen…

Wren stares up at me, soft amber eyes searching my own for the truth of whatever I’m holding back from her. “You look exhausted.”

“Fuck…” I kiss her forehead. “I am.”

“Have you eaten today?”

I pull back and shake my head. “No.”

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