Page 125 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

Three weeks and he hasn’t so much as made one call to me.

He’s spoken to his mam, to Dec. He knows where I am.

But he didn’t tear the world apart to find me like he said he would.

He hasn’t come for me, to take me in his arms, to take me home.

A sudden rash of noise assaults my ears. I sit straight up and Arnold and Clawzilla scramble off the sofa, then race back into the house. Mam always has treats and Declan spoils them to death.

Isabella appears in the doorway. “Declan is going to take the animals out for a walk,” his mam says, her American accent still making me smile. I expected her to be Irish, even though I know she came from a mafia family in New York, one that’s been absorbed by Callahan. “Can I get you anything, love? Tea? Coffee? Whiskey?”

I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

A few minutes later, she comes out with a tray of cookies and two mugs. She looks so much like Callahan, it hurts myheart. Isabella eases down onto a garden chair and holds out a mug to me.

“You look like you could use it. Whiskey with a splash of this morning’s coffee. And plenty of sugar.”

I smile and take it. “Thank you.”

“It’s before five p.m., so mug it is. Cal’s da is doing well. We had a meeting with his lawyers at the prison earlier. Maybe the appeal will go through this year.”

There’s something else on her mind, though, I can sense it.

“Has my son called you?”

“Of course not. I’m… I’m just the person he had to marry to get his hands on more power,” I say before taking a sip of the drink. It burns and bites my throat but tastes strangely delicious.

Anyone else, I think, would wince at my words, but she doesn’t. She just hooks a salt-and-pepper curl behind her ear. “If he didn’t want you, he’d be done with you. Callahan’s a particular man. He never sticks with one woman, and if it was just a means to an end, he’d have taken out the prick who called himself your father the moment he knew the man was trying to double-cross him. I know my son. If the man breathed a single second longer than he should have, then it’s because of you.”

She puts her hand over mine.

“Is that too harsh?” she asks. “I’ve spoken to your mother, and she’s relieved he’s gone. She… well, you need to talk to her.”

I let out a deep sigh, feeling completely alone in this moment. “If my mom wants to talk to me, then she has to talk to me. Really talk. I’m not… I don’t have the space to be the big grown-up here. She needs to make the first move and fix things. Maybe Dad—Vincent?—”

“Call him whatyou need, love,” she says.

“Maybe he was right, I’m a stupid child.”

“You’re young, but you’re not stupid. At all. And I can see how you feel about my son. Give him room, be patient.”

I take another sip of the coffee and sugar-laced whiskey. “For how long, Isabella? He killed my father and then never came for me. He…” A sob breaks free and she squeezes my hand.

“God always has a plan.”

“Maybe,” I whisper. “But I don’t believe in God.”

Not anymore.

Not since Callahan destroyed my world and left me all alone.

“Ah, come on. You can run faster than that,” Declan says a few days later as Arnold tears down the dirt road next to us.

He’s not his brother. I can easily keep up with Dec. Callahan is way more punishing.

Was.

He left me, and now I need to make plans for the future I wanted so badly.

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