I stepped back from the tractor. My sister strolled toward me in black riding boots.
“I’ve been here a while,” I answered. “Just looking around.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t get away from Brandon,” she explained.
“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows. “He could have joined us.” I still didn’t feel like I knew much about my brother-in-law. Over five years I’d only seen him a few times. He wasn’t interesting. He seemed to care about Seraphina. He was proud to be in the steakhouse business and whatever else the Castilles ran on the side. It wasn’t much of a brotherly bond.
I also knew things had taken a new turn now that Seraphina was pregnant. We were about to be tied together for the rest of our lives. The Castilles and the Corbans.
“No.” She shook her head. “I need to talk to you. Without him anywhere near here. He hates the stables. It’s safe.” I didn’t like her tone.
Her call last night I had sounded urgent. She seemed frantic and impatient. I was distracted. I was more concerned about my date with Kennedy being interrupted. I tried to read Seraphina’s body language now. What was going on?
“Safe?” I questioned.
She twirled her hair. “Can we walk back together?”
“Sure. But I need to know what’s going on.” I led her out of the equipment building.
She pulled wide-brimmed sunglasses over her eyes. “Tell me about the vineyards. How are things at the champagne caves? Do you think things are running smoothly? What about the grapes?”
“They’re fine. It’s a good grape year.” I eyed her as she walked next to me.
“You loved Paris? Epernay? It was good there, wasn’t it?” she questioned. I sensed nervousness and excitement.
I groaned. She was hinting. Going in circles. Missing the mark. “Yes. You know I enjoyed the vineyards. I finally got used to living there. What does that have to do with wanting to see me? You said it was important.”
“It is. I want to know about the vineyards. I’m thinking I should go there.” She walked faster. I couldn’t believe I was trying to catch up to her.
We arrived at the stables. Seraphina seemed to instantly relaxed. She approached one of the stalls.
“Why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?” I kept my voice low.
She looked left then right. She stepped toward the same chestnut horse I had patted and pressed her forehead against the bridge of his nose. “Knight, I’ve done something.”
“Okay?”
Her eyes closed as if she was mustering the strength to tell me. I placed my hand on her shoulder.
“What is it? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
She sighed, her hand resting on her stomach. “I need you to help me get out of here.”
“Is someone after Brandon? Did something go sideways? I can take care of that for you and him.” I squeezed her arm lightly. “Now that I’m back, I can add security detail for you. I have more resources than the Castilles. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t need security detail.”
“But you just said—”
Her eyes blinked open. The lashes were damp with the first tears. “I said I need your help to leave, not to stay and be locked in a prison.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
She broke away from the stallion. “I don’t know if it’s going to be safe for the baby and me to be here once Brandon finds out, but regardless, I have to leave. I have to get out of here. I want to go to France and run the vineyards.”
I inhaled. “Tell me what he’s done.”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “He’s done absolutely nothing.”
“Shit, Seraphina. I’m starting to think he’s abusive or drinking until he passes out every night. Cheating on you.” I stared at her. It was the last sentence that made her flinch. “Is that it?” I tried to figure out how to talk to her what would probably not be the last time Brandon cheated.
“Stop, Knight. Just stop.” She threw her hands in the air and stormed away toward one of the apartment doors. She walked inside and I followed her.
I didn’t expect it to be decorated in soft blues and off-white antiques. There was art on the walls and two cases crammed full of books. I pivoted in the room. “Who lives here?”
“It’s mine.”
“What?”
“This is my place. My sanctuary. Can you believe my husband has never stepped foot in here? Never asked. Never noticed. I hate the Castille house. I hate living with Brandon. I knew what was expected of me. Daddy made that clear on the day of my wedding. I’ve done what I had to do to get out of bed in the morning every day for four years. Until…”
“Until what?”
“Until I met someone.”
“What do you mean you met someone?”
Her shoulders straightened immediately. “I didn’t know it was possible, and it wasn’t like I was looking for him, or maybe I was. But he’s the one.”
“The one?” I stared at her. “What are you talking about? You’re married to Brandon. There was a contract. Money was exchanged. Brandon is supposed to be the one.”
Her blue eyes hardened. “No,” she snapped. “I had no say in the contract. No say in Brandon. No say in the house. No say in my life.” Her voice kept rising. I closed to the door to the apartment in case one of the stable hands was nearby.
I put my hands out to steady her. “I know all of that. I was there, remember?”
“And you did nothing while I was sold off to the most boring bland man in New Orleans.”
“That’s not true,” I argued. “I fought to get you out of it. I guess Dad didn’t tell you I had him in a chokehold on his desk.”
The information surprised her. “No. He never said anything.”
“He wouldn’t.” I finally exhaled. “Shit. You’ve met someone.” I shook my head. “Who’s the guy?”
“Tell me you aren’t going to go crazy. You have to promise,” she pleaded.
I clenched my jaw. “Tell me who it is.”
“He’s
