Chapter 21: The Garage

Sylvie's POV

I found out where Rafe had gone when the valet pointed at the garage elevator and said, "He asked for his car."

I took the stairs.

I took them in a red dress and heels, two at a time, with my phone in my fist.

I came out on the lower level and heard Brooks shouting.

"You wanted my father's hotels. Come and take them."

I stopped behind a pillar.

Fifty feet away, under a flickering light, Rafe stood with his keys in his hand.

Brooks stood ten feet from him with a tire iron on his shoulder.

My stomach turned over.

"Brooks," Rafe said, calm and low. "You're tired. Put it on the ground and we'll talk."

"You never wanted to talk. You wanted to win."

"I did."

"You've won."

"Then put it down."

"No!"

Brooks swung.

The iron hit the roof of Rafe's car with a crack, and the alarm began to scream.

Rafe did not move.

"That's a good car," he said. "You'll want to be careful with it."

"Shut up."

"You're trying to scare me, and I'll tell you honestly, it's working. But it won't change anything."

"I'll break your face."

"You might," Rafe said. "And then you'll go to prison, and Sylvie will still own your family's debt."

Brooks's chest was heaving.

I came out from behind the pillar.

"Brooks."

He spun.

When he saw me, something terrible moved across his face. It was hope.

"Sylvie. Thank God. Tell him to leave. Tell him you don't want him."

"Put the iron down."

"You're coming home with me."

"I don't have a home with you."

"You do. We'll fix this. I'll get the lawyers to rip up the paper." His eyes were wild. "I've had a hard night. Everyone's been cruel. I need you."

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