It probably wasn't the wisest decision to leave her the credit card and my house keys. But I couldn't just lock her into the apartment either, especially since I have zero food there

I still have no idea what to do with her. One minute I'm completely decided to send her back home, and then all it takes is a look from her, a tilt of her head, the way her soft hair falls across her face, hiding her eyes—eyes that should never be hidden—and I change my mind instantly, want to do it all to her. With her. Keep her forever. Locked up. And that insane wish might actually be the main reason I told her to go out on her own today.

I have no idea how she's managing to turn me into this indecisive, weak man, but she's doing it.

Just seeing my brother speaking to her yesterday made me all kinds of jealous. Because I know what he's doing. He wants to take her away from me. It was the same with Sophia. And I have to protect Joy from it. So I should send her home.

But I won't.

This afternoon, I'll go over the solar plant investment plans again, see if that sorry chunk of land her father owns really is so vital. It'll be a nightmare getting the other investors to agree to a change now, since the planned start of construction is only two months away. But maybe it's doable. In fact, maybe I should start the day with that.

I reach for the phone to get my secretary to bring me the files when the intercom buzzes.

"I have a Mr. Carvallas on the line for you," my secretary says.

Great, what the fuck does he want now?

"Take a message." The last thing I need is for that man to disturb my life even further than he already has by offering Joy to me.

"I tried," she says breathlessly. "But he's threatening all sorts of weird things. Something about his daughter and going to the press. I think you should take his call."

Gloria is nothing if not professional, it's why I hired her, and to hear her this flustered means it's bad. Carvallas must've told her everything.

"Alright, put him through."

Maybe the decision of what to do with Joy has just been taken out of my hands. I should be relieved, but a sinking, rotten kind of feeling is accompanying the realization.

"What do you want?" I ask as soon as I hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line.

"I want you to send my daughter back to me," he barks. "Right now! The deal is off."

Judging by his slurred speech it took him two days and nights of heavy drinking to finally come to that decision. The decision he should've come to on the spot when I said I’m taking Joy.

"I tried, but she wants to stay." I don't know what devil is possessing me to taunt him.

"She says the same thing. But she's young, inexperienced. She doesn't know what she wants. I want you to send her home."

"She's twenty-one and perfectly capable of making her own decisions."

"You send her home now, or I'll go to the press," he warns. "We'll see how many people will still want to work with you after the whole world knows you took an innocent girl as payment. As a slave."

Maybe the old bastard planned this all along. Maybe Joy was in on it. But all that's beside the point now. Because this is a frontal attack, a direct threat, and I've never not replied in kind to one of those.

"I won't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. And you better not threaten me again, if you hope to keep your land, or get anything at all for it. Think long and hard before you make good on this one. I will destroy you."

I hang up before he can say anything else. And it takes me a full five minutes before I calm down enough to call my apartment. I can deliver Joy to him by this evening, and that's what I should do. Everything I have is riding on this desert project. I'd be insane to do anything to jeopardize it.

Yet, I'm relieved when she doesn't answer the phone, or call back after I leave a message for her to do so on the answering machine.

I almost don't send my driver to the apartment to get her packed and ready to leave. But I do. Because it's the only sensible thing to do. I like taking risks, but when it comes to love it always ends badly. I thought I learned my lesson with Sophia all those years ago.