I'm in deep trouble indeed. Knowing Arabella's sanguine temper as I do, I'm sure as hell that I'm gonna see a rather caricatured side of it before the day ends. Worst case scenario, she may pack her bag and demand the next flight to Vegas.

Just why did Reece have to mention the damn birthday that I almost forgot about? Who cares about it? Not me. It's a waste of time. It's bullshit! I lost the meaning of it ever since my brother passed thanks to Roberto Castle.

Everything changed. We were supposed to celebrate it together—not like this! I have no right to cut a damn cake when I failed him big time. Even if that bitch couldn't protect him, it was my responsibility to do it and I failed miserably.

"Hey?" Nicolai snaps his calloused fingers, demanding my lost attention.

I lift my distressed gaze at him. "What are you doing here, all of you? And don't tell me about the freaky birthday, or I'm gonna beat the crap out of you!"

They roar with laughter.

Bastards! A ghost of a smile strokes my lips.

"Oh, brother," Nicolai chimes in. "You may be as strong as a stallion but you're outnumbered. Surely we can kick your ass now that you're no longer the boogeyman you once were!" he sneers while pooping a can of beer.

I laugh, recalling how we used to loathe each other fifteen years back. Roberto found him in Japan, and until now no one knows how he ended up in the streets of Tokyo running small errands for some Yakuza gang. He's a taipan with daggers, very skilled and precise.

Truth be told, I found a new real family in these guys. None of us are blood-related, but we're almost as solid as I used to be with my real brother. We all share a shady childhood that makes us alike and maybe that's why we can't break the bond we have no matter how many trials life has thrown our way so far.

Lance was found beaten up to a pulp by a drug cartel in Bogota and that's how we found him. He was a street kid, passionate about music but earned his bread through drug delivery. When Roberto rescued him, I was at least twenty years old and on a mission to wipe off some Colombian kingpin.

And Z, this punk, was a pickpocket in Odessa. So rough and impulsive. He stole from Roberto and got himself in deep shit. As cruel and atrocious our father can be, he's a firm believer in second chances for the reasons his existence can testify.

He took him in. He took all of us in.

Reece is the only bloody child he has, and to us, she's someone we must protect with our lives if necessary. When she was born, the whole of Sicily's coasts blew in fireworks straight from Lampedusa. And when she was kidnapped two years ago, the same blue sky thundered from the Castle's fury.

Not something I want to remember. We lost a brother in the process.

Protecting the family is our number one rule, more sacred than the Holy Bible. If you mess with one, it becomes everyone's business. I don't fancy violence even though I grew up in it, and bathed in it, but when it comes to those I love, I can become the boogeyman again and again.

"Alright, bro!" From behind me, Z jumps and lands on the couch. "Spill! Is she our dearest sister-in-law? Not one of the little slaves that you tie up in that dark room of torture?"

"Little slaves." Lance giggles like a schoolboy.

Good grief. These two will never grow up.

Surprisingly, even Nicolai has the same intolerable curiosity articulated on his face.

Seriously? Is it so strange that I'm now in a proper relationship with someone?

"Yes. She's your sister-in-law, and not one of the little slaves—as crude as that shit sounds—and I expect you all to show her a great deal of respect. Especially you two!"

"Oh, come on! It's not like we're going to tell her about your secret flings that we don't even know," Lance says.

"Or the secret child he has with his ex-wife," Z adds comically.

I shoot them a killer glare and they boom into very loud and annoying laughter. ]

Fuck them! I hold no more the laugh in my stomach.

Secret child? Ex-wife? They deserve a beating.

"Okay, enough, you fools! Can't you see he's already swimming in shits with the angry woman upstairs?" Nicolai grumbles, trying to hide his amusement.

I grab a can of beer, a full cartoon still on the table. The gas fusses when I pop the lid, and very refreshingly it slides off my throat when I take a swig.

My mind returns to the angry woman upstairs. Her firm "No" response from earlier has sent an immovable ache within me that I barely understand. I believe I was more serious than I ever was when I asked her to marry me.

But maybe she's not ready. I wasn't too, until lately. Or perhaps I'm still not good enough for her to consider a relationship for eternity with me.

God! Why the fuck does it have to be so complicated? And why am I so restless that she may slip from my grip?

"Damn it," I breathe, oblivious that I'm with three punks watching me. "Okay, quit fucking around and tell me what brings you here." I put the beer down and lean over, elbows on the knees.

I know they're here for another reason, and the dark glint pertained in their eyes upon my query affirms my suspicion. It's nearly impossible for all of them to travel together from Italy unless it's a serious state of emergency.

Nicolai sighs, his killer eyes, as sharp as the Sea wolf's, back to their usual prospect. "The old man is getting weak. We all know we can't defy time," he starts.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I urge.

"He collapsed a few days ago. He opened his eyes, pretending nothing happened, and took a trip to Athens." Hesitant, Nicolai sighs again. "Dallas says he requires another surgery. Something about his pacemaker working under capacity. He needs a replacement. Urgently. But he's against it."

I don't respond. The blood river inside me is still frozen, stark with cold indifference.

"And what else?" My breath hardens.

Z and Lance exchange looks, and Nicolai's jaw tightens as he says, "Falcon is on a revolt. He's swaying the board. He's the acting CEO of the Airline now; only a matter of time before he seizes the marina and scavenges for the rest. You need to come back, Adrian. You're the only one who can—"

"No!" I utter without any unneeded second thoughts.

He scowls. "Adrian—"

"I have a life here, Nicolai! I have businesses to run, and I have a woman I wanna settle down with, and I want no more fucking bullshit because I've had enough!"

"It's Falcon, bro! If he can't be stopped now, there'll be no stopping him at all." It's Lance.

"Then the three of you can do that job to perfection. I have absolutely no doubt," I retort sternly.

"Fuck, Adrian, you know that's not the case!" Nicolai bellows acidly. "I'm a mercenary. Trained to kill. It's what I do best. And these two, they're just kids. C'mon, they're back to school now, just as you wanted! You're the only one with a bone and flames befitting the business world. Only you, brother, until the world flips and I choose to kill him on the next meeting he calls. You're the only one who can tame Falcon. Only you!"

I smirk, not out of an overflowing arrogance or sheer defiance, but rather because the past seems to be a very persistent ghost that can't be willed away no matter how long you run and hide. It'll always haunt you.

"No, I think you're forgetting that it's Father himself who entrusted him with the Airline, and he has his reasons. He's his son too and you gotta trust him, even if I never will," I remark.

"That's because he had no other choice!" Nicolai bellows. "You weren't around when he needed someone stronger. And that asshole of a brother we have is always around, always like a mounting fog lurking around and around waiting to become the snow at the very top of the peak! The choice is yours. You can either protect the Castle empire, or you can let it rot away per his liking."

My stomach clenches in disgust.

I don't need this. No, I don't want this!

"He doesn't need me." I get up from my seat. "He has the Pentagon to back him up. If you think I'm a black hawk, make sure to remember that Roberto Castle is the Eagle. Don't underestimate him as long as he's alive."

"For how long?" Nicolai remarks icily.

"Yeah, bro. How can you be so sure that the Pentagon will have his back and not Falcon's? He's sick. He needs rest! He needs you!" Z snaps, all of his jokes aside.

I stop, my fists clenched tight to my sides. Maybe their fear is valid, but I have no desire to return.

"You've already made yourselves at home so let's pass the formality. I'll be in my room," I tell them.

When I get back to the bedroom, Arabella is in there curled up in the spanking recliner, eyes lost through the window. I'd bet my entire fortune that she's not happy, and I'm the main reason why. I stop by the door, too much of a coward to stride in and hold her in my arms.

What the fuck was I thinking asking her so recklessly to marry me when I'm still trapped in the past?

I'm glad she said no. It's only fair she said no.

When I shut the door she scampers from her restfulness. I see the rage in her eyes, yet I see the love so tender. She makes me wander hence and forth between the man I once was and the one I so greedily want to become whenever she's around.

Just how will I keep her by my side? A long, very long breath escapes me. Yet, I don't know the answer to this particular torment.

"Arabella—"

"Richard called me," she interjects.

I frown. Richard... Oh, her douche ex-boyfriend.

"I was talking to him a while ago." She sniffs a trace of repressed tears in her eyes.

"I had no idea you two talk." I gain the strength to move, although I cannot hide the disappointment in my voice.

Arabella stands up lazily.

"No, we don't." She follows me as I peel off the jacket I'm wearing. "Last I heard of him was during dinner at his home that evening and all of a sudden he called me today and apologized for everything he said and did back then."

"That's good. He should've done it sooner." I glance at her.

Confused, her eyes meet mine as she utters, "He said their factory is closing down and it's only a matter of time before they're homeless too."

"And so?" I deadpan.

She wanders closer to me and stops right where I am. "I was wondering if you're the one who..." Her voice fades; her eyes are speculative.

Seconds fly by and her lips tremble with no more words.

"If I'm the one who put them in such a disgrace?" I ease her struggle. Her silence answers. "Yes, I did. I had the opportunity to help them but I chose not to." My voice bears no regrets.

I did it with pleasure because I knew I was their last and only resort as I made sure no one else helped them. Even if it kills me a thousand deaths imagining what Arabella's reaction to this is at the moment, I still don't plan on hiding the real me.

"Why?" she asks, her voice a whisper.

"Because I had the power to do it!" I snap. "He ridiculed you, humiliated you, and yet he went on unpunished. That dinner—I accepted that dinner hoping he'd finally own up to his filthy mistake and apologize for hurting you. But no. On the contrary. He repeated equally the same thing, and even allowed his mother to add another offense to the record!"

Her lips move again, several times, but she utters no word. Her usually intelligible eyes are cryptic now; which means I'm either a whole bunch of disappointment or worse.

Teeth gritted, I solidly tell her, "I'm not as forgiving as you are, Arabella. I'm vengeful, I'm violent, and I'm darkness! That's who I am! So if you want to run away, I think now is your chance to—"

Warm arms on my cheeks, her velvet lips land on mine, shutting me up. Time stands still, and all I feel is her tight kiss that burns my rage and eases my fear even though I'm coherently weak and vulnerable when it comes to her.

What the fuck is this woman doing to me?

She kisses softly until my eyes succumb to the feeling she evokes in me.

I shut them and wait. I just wait, holding my breath.

I recall breathing only when she edges back, forcing her tearful eyes back at me. She's crying. Why the hell is she crying now? My face furrows. Is there a manual suggesting how women respond to facts and the meaning behind their tears?

"Don't you ever repeat those words!" she snaps back, sounding mad this time. "Darkness? Violent? Where is that? I don't see it anywhere! If you were violent you'd have beaten him right there because I know you had the guts to do it! If you were darkness, then why do I see the world so colorful when you're around and quite smoky when you're not? Why don't I desire anyone but you to make me smile and cry at the same time, huh?" More tears flow from her eyes like a thawed river.

Something more robust than my own will rises from the marrow of my bones, blasting many new feelings my cold heart barely recognizes. Hope, serenity, acceptance, and love—such deep love I felt unworthy of for many, many years.

My arms quest for the small of her waist. I pull her closer, a grip rich with vehemence as savageness is what I excel at as far as my emotions are concerned. She gasps a moan, and a bit of excitement replaces her dread.

I stare at her lips, pink and plump, and the urge to kiss her grows deeper than the ocean. And then I look at her mesmerizing brown eyes, pulling my free hand like a magnet until I touch the wetness in her cheek.

She closes her eyes, and I kiss her tears away, one cheek, then the other until her sweet lips melt in mine as if I own every bit of her—something I yearn for desperately—because I'm a Dom, and very territorial.

"I fucking love you, Arabella." I pant heavily.

"I know. I know, my love," she whispers breathlessly, her arms tight around my neck. "And you're not darkness, Adrian. You're my blinding light. You just need to pull out the curtains and let yourself believe it," she says, a sweet smile on her lips, and more tears in her eyes.

I can feel my eyes burning. No fucking crying!

"And you don't have to punish Richard's family for what he did, Adrian," she whispers, a small smile on her lips. "Just forgive them. and forgive yourself for what you couldn't prevent with your brother."

Okay, I can consider a little about with ex's family and their failing business; but I wonder if I can lift the guilt weighing me for Allan's death.

"I don't like to remember my birthday. It's never important to me, and I forgot it's a different perception to my family... and you. I'm sorry. It was never my intention to have you find out about it the way you did." I choose to settle this one.

She sniffs her tears away. "I don't know why you feel so, but it's alright. And I'll only forgive you under two conditions."

I narrow my eyes warily. "What conditions?"

"Well.." She grins one of her soft seductive grins full of ulterior motives. "First. Let Reece throw you the party as she stubbornly desires to."

I frown, and she pouts.

I laugh. "Okay, she's gonna do it even if I beg her not to. Let's say... I'll attend. What's the next condition?"

Her breath hitches in a sexy design. Okay, what is she up to? The Dom in me awakes.

"Um..." She clears her scratchy voice before muttering, "Take me to your playroom."