Page 142 of Sinclair Duet

“I don’t want to.”

“Would you?”

My fingers balled into fists at my side. “Ella.”

“Would you?” she asked again, louder than before.

“Damn it, I love you. I fucking got you back. I never should have let you walk out on me in the first place. I don’t want to leave. I don’t care about a fucking piece of paper. I love you.” The rings on the table caught my attention. I lifted the engagement ring. “This is yours. It always has been yours. Will you wear it?” When she didn’t reply, I added, “I’ll leave. I’m also leaving this ring with you. It belongs to you. This won’t be two damn years of separation, Ella. You have my word. I’m going to hound you every second of every day. We’re meant to be together. I need you to believe that as much as I do.”

My teeth ached under the pressure of my clenched jaw as I waited for Ella to speak, to say anything. She didn’t.

“That fucking cunt,” I growled. “I’m going to make this right. I promise.”

“I need time to think.”

Inhaling, I called on all my self-control. “I’ll give you time.” I handed the engagement ring her way. “Please take this. Even if we’re not married, we can be engaged.”

Ella reached for the ring. “Tomorrow, I’ll tell Millie that I’m stepping down from the campaign.”

My fucking heart was being ripped from my chest. “Please don’t.”

She stood taller. “Please keep me informed about Derek.”

“I will. What about my things upstairs?”

Before Ella could answer, her doorbell rang. Duchess came running from the front of the house. When I turned toward Ella, her forehead was furrowed. “Did you call for food?” she asked.

“No. Are you expecting anyone?”

The doorbell rang repeatedly.

“What the fuck?”

We both walked down the hallway toward the foyer. Through the lead-glass sidelight was the distorted image of a person. A man. A tall man.

The small hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention.

I shot out my arm. “Ella, stay back.”

The man was now pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there. Open the damn door. Your car is right here. I’m not leaving.”

Ella’s eyes opened wide. “Darius?”

“Fucker.”

Ella reached for my arm. “Damien, don’t open the door. He sounds nuts. We can call the police.”

I wasn’t going to hide from my brother behind a door.

The pounding continued.

“I’m going to handle this,” I said, going to the front door, turning the bolt, and opening the door. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Let me in.”

“Leave,” I said, “you’re making a fool out of yourself.”

“You think you can win. You always have. You’re nothing but a spoiled asshole who wants everything I’ve ever had.” His volume was getting louder with each phrase.

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