The wind on the rooftop is fierce, whipping my hair around as the helicopter’s blades churn the air. Benedict pulls me toward it, but I dig my heels into the ground, suddenly overwhelmed.
I’m done being yanked around by the Worthingtons.
He stops and turns, those intense blue eyes locking on mine. The wind tousles his hair, making him look effortlessly like a cover model, while I probably look as crazed as I feel.
Before I can speak, the door behind us crashes open. Alex storms out, looking more enraged than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes blaze as he takes in the sight of me and Benedict, standing hand in hand on the rooftop.
“Let her go!” Alex shouts, his voice raw with desperation.
Benedict doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he smirks, his grip on my hand tightening just slightly. “Baby brother,” he calls out, his tone mocking. “How’s the trust fund holding up?”
“Cut the crap, Benedict! Let her go!” Alex’s voice is strained, a mix of anger and panic. He takes a step forward, but Benedict moves in front of me, almost protectively.
“I’m not an idiot,” Benedict says, his voice calm and cutting. “I don’t let treasure go.”