Page 90 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
“I will stay to the end of the wedding.” I force out a breath, along with words that taste sour on my tongue. “Then I’ll be gone, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
His brow drops over calculating eyes. “Fine.”
“But promise me you’ll get some surveillance for your fiancée. She doesn’t want to be caged in, and she’s demonstrated that multiple times in your absence. If you go ahead with this marriage, Sav, I suggest you get protection on her twenty-four-seven.”
Sav’s eyes darken further.“If?”
“If what?”
“No ...” His tone is measured. “You said ‘if’ I go ahead with the marriage. Why wouldn’t I go ahead with it? I want that port. This is a business transaction, and I don’t back out of those.”
I raise my hands. “Fine.When. And until then, you will treat me like a brother,” I say with grit in my voice and sadness in my throat. Then I walk out before he can object.
I can still feel his accusatory glare burning into my back as I step out into the harsh midday sun. I should feel hurt by his coldhearted dismissal, but the main sensation I have is one of sheer relief. I’ve never wanted to admit it before now, but being friendly to Savero has always been a struggle. His cool eyes have never reciprocated warmth, and his harsh words are often so hard to swallow. Even Father avoided him on occasion. But the relief is tempered by guilt. I’m leaving Castellano in this man’s hands. If anything were to happen to her while under his watch, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself. I’d cause him equal harm without a thought.
I stand on the stone path leading to the gardens, close my eyes, and breathe in deeply, trying to fill my lungs with the same conviction I felt when I last left this place ten years ago. Back then I couldn’t wait to get away. Mama’s murder was stillfresh at the front of my mind, and Father had disappeared on a rampage that resulted in more than a hundred bloody deaths.
This time feels very different. Much as I want to be out from under my brother’s hostile gaze, I don’t want to leave. And the reason why is shaped like an hourglass and tastes like sweet hope and dangerous distraction.
I could so easily stay. I have easy access to Savero’s movements; I could find out exactly when and where I’d catch Castellano alone. All I’d need to do is press those pretty lips to mine and wrap her legs around my waist, and I just know she’d be as far gone as I would be. Despite our resolve to pretend nothing happened, I know for a fact the conviction went only skin-deep. The second my soul speaks to hers again, we’ll be fucked.
Her panties are still tucked into my pocket, and her sweetness still sits on my tongue. I’m so far under her spell I can hardly think straight. When I’m not making plans to head back to my businesses, I’m scheming, dreaming up ways I can see her again, get her alone, have a taste of her justone more fucking time.
I’ve seen enough addicts in my lifetime to be able to spot them a mile away. They loiter around every dark corner of my casinos, their fingers sizzling with the need to stack some chips.
That’s me in the corner.
She’s my winning hand, my lucky dice, the millions that no matter how hard you gamble you can never quite grasp. And that’s why I’m leaving. No matter how much I crave her, she isn’t mine to have.
I open my eyes and focus them on a cluster of planters across the yard. Mama adored her flowers and insisted on doing all the gardening work herself. When she died, Father didn’t have the heart to get rid of her beloved plants, so he hired a full-time gardener. Mama had a particular fondness for yellow—Iremember growing up in a sea of sunshine. She hated dark pink, and especially red. Said she saw enough of that whenever she stepped out of the house. I never really understood what she meant until after she died. Then everything looked red to me, and I quickly grew to detest it too.
This is what makes me look twice at a plant nestled in the center of the cluster. Its berries are white, which isn’t unusual for this garden, but the stalks are the color of fresh blood. It looks eerie, the fruits resembling the eyes of small children. A shudder uncoils down my spine.
That’s my sign.
It’s time for me to go.
Trilby
Sera clasps my hand beneath the table and gives it a squeeze. It drags my thoughts from where they seem to reside permanently in the master bedroom of Cristiano’s apartment to the present. We’re sitting on the terrace of what is about to become my home, and it doesn’t feel real.
Living with my fiancé before we’ve wed is unconventional, but no one is going to argue with New York’s deadliest don. Still, Allegra doesn’t like the thought of me being thrown headfirst into this world without some sort of support, so she’s sent Sera to keep me company. And on evenings like this, where I’m expected to dine with Savero and his top capos, I’m so grateful for her.
I squeeze Sera’s fingers beneath the table and dip my head. “Thanks for coming. I’m sorry you’re missing out on the college trip. I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Don’t worry.” Her small smile doesn’t convince me. “There’ll be other opportunities to meet top hoteliers. And with Savero’s connections, I might even secure some good positions where I can train while I work. Maybe I’ll get to do an internship in the Hamptons. I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Guilt gets the better of me. “Hey, you know, I could try to talk to Savero now ...” My voice tapers off, because even now, that feels like a stretch of the imagination. Despite living in his house, I haven’t seen him around much, let alone had a chance to talk to him.
“You don’t have to do that,” Sera says quietly. “Give it time. You have enough to be worrying about with the wedding in only a few days.”
At the word “wedding,” I glance across the table at Savero. Apart from a brief exchange of greetings when we sat down to eat, he hasn’t looked at me once. Then again, I’m not sure I’d know if he had; his gaze doesn’t leave the same burn on my skin as his brother’s.
My eyes travel to his side, to the empty chair where I expect Cristiano would normally sit, and my chest aches. He would have pushed it back to accommodate his long legs, and he’d be resting his head back, looking down at everyone, rubbing his jaw in thought. I imagine his upper body lounging casually like he has nothing to prove.
I force myself to blink and immediately feel anxious. Savero is watching me, and the look on his face isn’t pleasant. In fact, it’s almost hostile. I smile nervously and focus my attention on my plate of largely uneaten food.
“Penelope’s going to kill you,” Sera says as I push a piece of fish around with my fork. “She’s had to take the dress down three sizes already. I know this is a big deal, marrying the don, but you can’t starve yourself. You’ll be a bag of skin and bones before you know it.”
