Page 75 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“So ...” He lifts my chin gently. “We’re going to be brother and sister, Castellano. And even though it’s not exactly whatI want, it’s preferable to what we could have been. Which is nothing at all.”
I force a smile through my quivering lips. “Brother and sister.”
Trilby
The thick, heavy bass is welcome music to my ears as we walk back into the house. I’m lightheaded from the cigarette I just took a few sips from. I don’t smoke—I don’t like the taste or the smell—but I’m in the mood for rebellion, and no one knows I’m here. Well, no one except Lorna, one of Savero’s maids, who saw me escape under the veil of darkness.
Since the night I met Cristiano I’ve hardly recognized myself. Not since I was a young girl have I felt the need to rebel. It’s as though that young girl is still inside of me, itching to get out, but years of concealing my grief and trying to protect my family from the strength of my feelings have muzzled her.
Savero barely spoke two sentences to Cristiano when he arrived to collect me two days ago. I’m beginning to wonder how close they really are. I sat in the back of his car watching the streets pass by, getting no prettier as we entered the sunnier streets of Long Island. My fiancé spent the entire journeyscrolling through his phone and occasionally ranting in Italian to his browbeaten capos. Then, if I weren’t already feeling surplus to requirements, he deposited me in a deserted wing of the house, which had been sparsely furnished with little to no heart, and promptly left again to go who knows where for who knows how long.
I felt relieved, when I should have felt disappointed. I still have no idea where he’s gone, and forgive me, Father, but I can’t bring myself to care.
While I hated being alone in that enormous, silent house, I needed the space to process the fact I’ll have to forge a relationship with my new “brother.” The thought makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out, and I don’t especially want to deal with it now.
I just want to dance my sorrows away.
That’s why I took the risk and slipped out from beneath the noses of Savero’s security guards, under the guise of visiting my supposedly “sick” sister. And now, as the lights of the house party follow the swirling nicotine in my brain and ill-advised punch as it trickles down my throat, I’m beyond smug that I did.
“Not going for the ripped hem and pink hair tonight then?” Sandrine jokes as we walk toward the makeshift dance floor. We’re at a fellow classmate’s house party – a venue I’m pretty sure isn’t owned by a Di Santo.
I arch a cocky brow. “No need. No one knows I’m here.”
She high-fives me as I twirl around, then she slurps on her drink. “What happened with the gun-toting pimp?” she asks, laughing.
“He is not a pimp,” I gasp with an eye roll.
“He certainly behaved like he owned you, honey. And jeez, how did he get into that place with a gun? There were metal detectors, like, everywhere ...”
I groan into my glass. “His family owns the bar.”
“Well, that’s one way to get around the rules,” she replies. Another slurp. “So he’s going to be yourbrother-in-law?” She has a glint in her eye that makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And . . . is he single?”
My chest hollows. “I think so.”
“In that case, honey, I need an invite to that wedding.”
I gulp down half the liquid then force a smile.
“Did you know, something like thirty percent of women meet their future husbands at their friends’ weddings? This could be it, Tril. He could be the one. And we could besisters. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Something bitter twists inside my chest. “I think you’re forgetting you snuck out the back with a stranger that night.”
She stops dancing and stares at me. “Trilby, what on earth do you take me for? I’mjoking. The man couldn’t take his eyes off you, and when I came back inside, he’d cleared out the entire club because—what, you danced a little too close to some guy?”
Every part of my body tenses. I know I just got caught in that forbidden land of acting all jealous over someone who isn’t mine, then getting called out for it by someone who’s seen the truth.
I don’t have time to dwell on it, because Sandrine’s focus narrows on something over my shoulder, and her face pales.
“Um, Tril, are you sure no one knows you’re here?”
“Yeah. Why?”
A loud crash stops the music dead, and a few screams of surprise ring out from the edges of the room.
