Crowned by Fate (Crowned 2)

She stammers toward me, her hand pressing against my cheek. I want to slap it away, but I fight the urge. “Give me a few days to get my head back in check.”

I watch as she disappears into the foyer. I’ll give her those days, after all…

Pulling my phone out from my pocket, I hit dial on The Reaper.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, but the sass in his tone is obvious.

“Isa is back and she’s out for blood.”

“Oh, I know.” Devon chuckles. “But it’s not my blood she wants.”

I roll my eyes. “When do you get back?”

He pauses, and I hear chatting in the background as he answers. “I’m already back.”

If it doesn’t make sense, then don’t pay it a cent.

-Isa

The longer I sit and think about everything that I’ve been through over the past year, the more clarity I tend to get. Devon and Brooke. How their roles played out with my internal battle. My mind has been so manipulated that it doesn’t feel like I own it. My plan is to take back that power from my father.

“Are you sure about this?” Max asks, looking at me from over his arm.

I nod. “Devon won’t hurt me.”

“But when you were out, he was an enemy. You had put him on the bad side—” My blood pressure drops to dangerous levels at the near mention of her name. Saying her name inside my head was easy, but hearing it out in the open makes me uncomfortable.

“Brooke was an enemy. But Devon, I’m not sure where he came in to play when it came to my mental characteristics.”

Max reaches over and squeezes my knee. “I’m here. Always.”

I give him a polite smile as we pull up right outside the coffee shop Devon and I would go to while we were in New York. The dark maroon paint that’s glassed over the entry brings back memories of all the good times Devon and I had together.

All of them.

Before I was married to Bryant, we would travel to New York a lot. It was our playground before my world spun out of control.

I climb out of the passenger seat, slamming the door closed behind me while turning to face Max, my hand flying up to his chest. “You can wait here. Devon and I need to have this conversation with just the two of us. Is that okay?”

Max looks over my shoulder briefly before meeting my eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”

“Good.” I pat his shoulder before making my way to the entry, the bell dinging above my head as I walk over the threshold.

I find him right away. His styled blond hair sticks out as his lean body rests against a table, chatting with one of the waitresses. He sees me come in and smirks at her, tapping her shoulder and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I sass him, pulling out a chair that’s tucked beneath a graffiti-ridden tabletop.

Devon’s face falls as the girl disappears behind me. “What? I don’t get a hug?”

I glare at him. “No. Maybe if you had tried to rescue me, you would, but the answer is no.”

Devon drags a chair around the table and plants it directly in front of me. He sits down, his hands coming to my cheeks. “Isa, I thought you were gone.”

I whack his hand away from my cheek. “So what? The Devon I knew would have taken me even if I was crazy Brooke.”

Devon kicks out his legs and squeezes his hands into a fist. “A lot changed since you married my cousin.”

I sigh, massaging my temples. Devon looks good. His blond hair combed back and his bright blue eyes twinkling in mischief.

“Who was that that you came with?”

“Hmm?” I try to play dumb, as if that would ever work on him. He comes from a long line of over-intuitive family members.

“The tall, hulk dude. Who is he?” Devon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees with a devious half-smile on his mouth. “Does my cousin know about him?”

I wish I could remember the clear details of finding out that my best friend and my husband were related, but the niceties are hazy. All I know is that I know. I’m hoping someone can clarify the parts that don’t come to me straight away.

“He knows, but I don’t care. Since he has a fiancée living in his house now and won’t let me move out.”

Devon chuckles, shaking his head while leaning back in his chair. “Moving you in? Damn. He’s always so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” I raise my eyebrow, signaling to the waiter that we were ready to order. “I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use, considering the man is Bryant Royal.”

Devon seems to ponder over my words, his index finger working the top of his lip. “Who’s the man, baby?”