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“Don’t tell me what to do,” Colm said.
I stood up then and moved close to Sam. “You should go,” I said.
Colm smiled sweetly at me then slipped past us. Shaun gave me one last deadly stare before following his boss. I kept them both in sight as I put my hand on Sam’s arm. She was trembling, and I could almost feel the anger radiating out of her.
“Those bastards,” she whispered. “They never meant any of it.”
“No, they didn’t,” I said. “I have a feeling he only took this meeting so he could say he met with us. I’m sure he’ll spin some lie to the rest of the family, and Shaun will back him up, because Shaun wants war above anything else.”
“God, you’re right.” Sam stared at me, her mouth hanging open. “What are we going to do? He’ll never back down.”
“We’ll get married.” I grabbed her hand. “That’s all we can do right now.”
She shook her head and pulled away. “I need to think,” she said, wandering toward the door. “I just— I need to think, okay?”
“All right,” I said, catching up with her. “Come on, let’s go.” I led her back through the bar and out the front door.
Nobody attacked. No guns, no clubs, nothing but quiet suburban streets. Colm and Shaun were gone, likely already in a car and driving fast back to their turf before the Don could spring a trap on them, if that was what he planned. I steered Sam into the truck, got behind the wheel, and drove her back to the mansion, thinking about that conversation the whole way.
There’d never be peace. I knew it and Sam knew it, too. Not with Colm standing in the way, pushing for more war.
There was only one solution, and it was bloody.
12
Sam
I couldn’t sleep that night. My hands shook for an hour after the meeting and I barely managed to eat the very nice dinner Bea brought up to my room. She tried to cheer me up, and even offered to keep me company, but I didn’t want to be around anyone, not yet anyway. Matteo disappeared as soon as we stepped into the mansion to talk to Don Valentino, and I didn’t expect to see him anytime soon.
Around midnight, I finally gave up on sleep and got out of bed. The floor outside my room creaked as I walked down the dark hall toward the black staircase. The mansion at night was pretty creepy, and all the old art didn’t do much to make me feel at home. It was like living in a museum, except a rich person’s idea of a museum. I didn’t want to touch anything, but I couldn’t help brushing against the statues and poking at the oil paintings, just to see if they were real.
The kitchen was empty. I passed through it, into the massive living room, and out the back door. Down in the pool, a blow-up giraffe drifted around on invisible currents. The moon was massive and silver, and bright enough to guide me down the lawn, toward a huge oak tree.
I stood next to it then slid down its trunk and sat at its base, pulling my knees to my chest. It was a little chilly, but I wore a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, and it was warm enough at least.
My uncle didn’t give a damn about me. That much was obvious. I doubted my dad even cared, though maybe more than his brother did. Still, they were all liars, and everything I knew about the family was built on a crumbling foundation.
Nessa betrayed me. Colm forced the family into a bloody war. And it seemed like I had no way out.
He didn’t care if I married Matteo. It was always a long shot to begin with, but now I knew for sure the Healys wouldn’t give a damn one way or the other. Maybe some of them might think twice about trying to kill me in the street or something like that, but really, I was just a traitor to them now.
But I was still going through with it.
That was the strange part. Every time I thought about Matteo, I thought about marrying him, about giving myself to him again. I leaned my head back and squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to suppress the strange twist in my gut, the odd, excited twinge that ran through my chest like a flutter. I wanted him, wanted Matteo, wanted to be his wife, wanted him to raise my child, and it scared the hell out of me.
It wouldn’t end the war. It wouldn’t do anything at all.
I wanted it anyway.
I knew why, and I wasn’t ready to admit it, but the truth was right there, just out of my grip.
He made me feel good. I could admit that much, at least. There were so few people in my life that gave a shit about me at all, and Matteo was the only one that was willing to fight for me. He looked at me like I was some kind of prize, like I was his princess and he’d die for me if I asked him to, and I thought he might really do that for me. I thought if I touched his cheek and commanded it, he’d go out and fight and die with a smile on his face.
