Chapter 45:
Piecing together what she knew of timelines and aliases, Rylie had her suspicions — Deandre fit the puzzle as the shadowy candidate poised to inherit the Costa empire.
She also remembered how that online post had drawn a swarm of killers to the hunt, making Deandre the second most valuable target in the world. In short, danger was always closing in around him.
Deandre’s gaze lingered on Rylie, noticing the distant look in her eyes. “Hey, Rylie, what’s on your mind? You seem a little lost,” he asked gently.
A soft blink brought Rylie back, and she managed a small smile. “Oh, it’s nothing really. I just can’t help worrying about your safety. You’re always in harm’s way. Maybe it’s time you had more people around you for protection.”
Hearing the genuine concern in her voice seemed to lift Felix’s spirits. He grinned with a hint of swagger. “You don’t have to stress about me. I’m tougher than I look. Even Brad can’t outmatch me — I promise you, I can hold my own.”
Rylie gave a quick nod, but deep down, she wasn’t convinced. In her mind, she resolved to have a few people track the Costa Syndicate and quietly bolster Deandre’s security.
Finding someone who truly cared for her was a rarity, and she wasn’t about to let anything threaten her family.
That night, the entire Owen family gathered to celebrate Rylie’s return.
Every inch of the dining table was filled with dishes from across the country, each one more tempting than the last. Kendrick motioned for her to sit by his side, his tone warm. “Come, Rylie. See if there’s something you like. If not, just say the word and I’ll have the kitchen whip up anything you want.”
She reassured him easily, “Honestly, I’m not picky — everything looks great.”
She sipped her soup and couldn’t help but appreciate how flavorful it was, but Laurel’s sharp voice interrupted the calm. “Percy, how many times must I remind you not to make noise when you eat? Look at Paola. Learn some manners.”
Percy responded, “Alright, I get it. I’ll eat like a civilized person.” He cast a sideways glance at Rylie as he said it.
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Across the table, Rylie’s spoon tapped softly against her bowl just as Paola glanced over. Instantly, Paola straightened, perfecting her posture, sipping her soup with a kind of practiced grace that belonged in etiquette books.
Rylie watched, amused. Paola truly knew how to play the part. Sure, Rylie could do it too if she wanted — but there were better ways to spend her evening than obsessing over such unnecessary table manners.
If she wasted the whole night pretending to be a proper lady, she’d end up missing out on tonight’s racing event.
Noticing the tension, Deandre quickly tried to break it. He grabbed his soup bowl and finished it off in a single gulp, then set it down a little too loudly, pulling a face. “We’re family. It’s just dinner — let’s keep it real, yeah?”
Awkwardness crept into Laurel’s features, though she couldn’t really argue against Deandre. “You’re right, Deandre. I guess I’ve just always been strict with my own children. I’ve always asked them to be cultured all the time and—”
Deandre retorted, “So now, just because my bowl made a sound, I’m uncultured? Please. All these manners make me itch.” Years spent running wild among rough company had left him immune to fake decorum — and he didn’t want to see Rylie boxed in by such nonsense. He gave Rylie’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Let my sister eat however she wants. She’s fine just the way she is.”
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