Page 214 of Kiss the Villain

For now.

According to Jethro, Grant’s obsessive need for control means he’ll find us eventually, so we need to move soon.

Still, my thoughts stray to Gareth. I wonder if he’s made it to the island by now. A quick trip to check on him wouldn’t hurt.

Not that Jethro will agree. He’s hell-bent on getting us out of here and taking us all the way to South Africa.

He’ll just have to pick somewhere closer to the UK, maybe North Africa or Southern Europe, because I will go to the island. Regularly. Without drawing attention, of course. Because I can’tnotsee him.

The medium-sized house is quiet when I enter. Jethro is sitting at a desk near the entrance, dressed in a worn Metallica hoodie. His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction. He’s typing furiously with one hand and holding a half-eaten sandwich in the other.

It’s clear he didn’t sleep last night, busy arranging meetings with directors and shareholders.

My banishment from Vencor might’ve come with a bounty on my head, but I still own half of the Davenport corporations. If Grant thinks my influence will dwindle just because I’ve been shunned, he’s in for a rude awakening.

IamDavenport Corp.

My father always favored the way I did business over Grant’s methods. I’ve built the empire stronger, handled threats more efficiently, and amassed a loyal following.

It doesn’t matter where I am. My power remains mine, and I won’t relinquish it to Grant.

Standing by Jethro’s desk, I pull out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The first drag burns my lungs in a way that feels both wrong and familiar. I’d quit since Gareth hates it, but his absence shoved me back into my bad habits.

“Where’s Simone?” I ask, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Jethro doesn’t even glance up. “She said she had to run an errand.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I say, blowing out another cloud. “Passing by Brighton Island.”

This gets his attention. He lifts his head, a smear of mustard clinging to his chin. “No way in hell. Grant knows that was your last stop before coming back. He’ll have people watching.”

“Since I already returned, he won’t suspect it.”

“He might.”

“Then we’ll take the risk.”

Jethro glares, swallowing the bite of his sandwich. “The fuck is wrong with you, man? You’d risk getting killed just to see him from a distance?”

“I suppose.”

“You could just have one of the men take pictures and send them to you.”

“It’s not the same.” I turn and head toward the stairs. “Arrange it.”

His curses and muttered empty threats to quit follow me as I climb the stairs. I ignore him, entering my room and shutting the door behind me.

The room is sparsely furnished—functional but not homey. Definitely nothing like the home I had on that godforsaken gloomy island.

It’s ridiculous how one person’s presence can either light up the darkness or snuff out the light.

Shaking off the thought, I sit at the desk, the wood cool beneath my palms, and retrieve my laptop. I power it on and focus on the screen.

Moka jumps into my lap, her soft meow breaking the oppressive silence. I stroke her sleek black coat, my fingers moving absently. “You miss him, too, huh?”

She meows again.

“I know,” I whisper.

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