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I can’t breathe, not without pressing my chest into his or smelling the cologne on his suit. And if I can’t breathe, how can I speak?
Still, I try. “Thomas- I-I had nothing to do with-”
One of Thomas’s hands grips my chin, the other gripping one of my wrists and trapping it against the wall above my head. “I suggest you don’t lie,” he says calmly. “Trying to take my sister’s life is an act of war I will not forgive. Your best option now is to make yourself useful to me as a hostage. So, did Morgan decide he was bored after three months of truce between our families?”
I try to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go. Thomas isn’t loosening his grip, and his body is as immovable an obstacle in front of me as the wall at my back. His leg is still pressed between mine, and I’m terrified he can feel the aching pulse pounding there.
“That’s not it!” I gasp. “This has nothing to do with the truce, I swear!”
It horrifies me to even think of jeopardizing such a tentative peace. After my uncle used his status as the boss’s right hand to convince half the Warwick family to leave with him, claiming a vast swathe of the city’s opportunities for himself and setting his old home ablaze in their wake- after ten years of bloodshed between two gangs that used to be one- the truce was the first sign that things could get better.
I couldn’t believe my ears when I learned that Thomas Warwick had actually convinced my uncle to lay down arms for the sake of more lives not being lost. But now that I’ve met him–now that he’s trapped me against a wall–I understand better how he might’ve manipulated his father’s former friend to see reason. How long the truce will last depends entirely on my uncle’s reason holding, which isn’t likely.
Still, I won’t be the reason the truce fails. I can’t be responsible for our family’s feud starting again.
“No?” Thomas asks. “So it’s personal. What exactly did my sister do to you?”
“I would never hurt Raleigh. She was my best friend and I’ve never stopped missing her-”
“Then what were you doing there? Did you think a ten-year reunion sleepover would be appropriate?”
I can’t believe that thirty seconds ago I thought he missed me. Worse, I can’t believe I admitted to missing him. And that I was melting under every one of his touches.
My face must be scarlet. All I want to do is drop my eyes, but Thomas is holding me so I have no choice but to look at him. I try to squirm, but he only presses me more firmly against the wall.
“Answer. My. Questions,” he orders.
He has to feel my pulse pounding between us. “I wasn’t going to be there long-”
“Of course not. Starting a house fire doesn’t take much time at all.”
“I didn’t do it!”
Thomas’s leg grinds between mine, and I choke on a gasp. He’s using my own body against me during this interrogation, and it’s humiliating that I can’t even help but respond.
“I’ve been kind until now,” he warns. “This has been pleasurable, hasn’t it? That ends the next time you lie to me.”
“It’s the truth!” I cry. “I’m running away from my uncle! I needed a place to rest- just for a few days until- until I figured out where to go…” I had no idea the first night would go so spectacularly wrong. If I had, maybe I would have given up on my ridiculous dreams of freedom.
But if I’d stayed one more day, my spirit would have died, and then I would have broken the promise I made to my mother in the last moments of her life.
Thomas is quiet for a moment while he reads my face, immovable as a marble column. I force myself to hold his gaze, willing him with my eyes and the tremble of my lips to believe me.
“What purpose would you have to leave the safety of Morgan’s estate?” he finally asks, but not as though he believes me. He’s poking at the edges of my story, testing what he’s already decided is a lie.
“Because I don’t want to live like him!” I burst out. “I don’t want every decision I make to be based on who I have to hurt and who I have to kill to get what I want. I don’t want every day to be about business meetings and intimidation tactics and trying to decide whether another turf war would be good or bad for profits-” I cut myself off, trying to control my dangerously shallow breaths. “I… I don’t know where I’m going to go, I just know I can’t stay with him. I won’t.”
For the first time, there’s a glimmer of interest in Thomas’s eyes. Does he hear my conviction? Or does he just sense a weakness that I’ve exposed?
“You’ve lived your whole life in a mafia family,” he says. “What would you do besides this?”
I lick my lips, but suddenly, my desperation to be believed can’t force the words out of my mouth. The dream is so dear to my heart. I’ve never told anyone what I want, not since my mother died.
Thomas’s eyes go flat again. He looks down at me with that impenetrable expression, his hand still holding my chin firm.
“And how exactly did you find out that Raleigh was living outside of the estate?” he asks.
My throat goes dry. If I tell him my uncle had that intel, not only will Thomas not believe that I broke into my uncle’s files and found it myself, but he’ll immediately assume my uncle really is planning to end the truce. I’ve never been at peace in my uncle’s house, but I can’t wish death on him. And the wrong words out of my mouth won’t be the reason another war is started.
