“I believe him, John. Why would he start a war? He has no reason to. I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine. This isn’t the 1920s when families fought against each other for control of empires. Sure, there are families who hate each other. Shit, I can’t stand Ivan. He has no respect for anyone. I don’t like the way he conducts business. I definitely don’t approve of drugs or prostitution. We stand together on this. You and I together. We’ve talked about this. It’s not easy for me, either. For years after Royal left, I listened to my Lola cry herself to sleep many nights, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to ease her pain. I listened to her pray for his safety. For him to return home and get the help he needed. We both still mourn for the son we lost, my own goddamn flesh and blood in a living, breathing monster of a man. But what can I do? I can do right by the people who have done right by me, or I do nothing at all. I’m doing what I have to do, not what I want to do.”

Manny jumps up.

“We kill him, that’s what we do! Fucking wipe them all out.”

“Sit the hell down, Roan!”

Whoa. That’s the first time in years I’ve heard Salvatore call Manny by his given name.

“No, damn it, I won’t! Do any of you know what it’s like to be restrained? Feel helpless as you sit back and get brutalized by your own brother? Watch a woman who you’ve sworn to protect be drugged, bound to a chair, and beaten? Do any of you know how that feels? Those visions rattle around in my fucked up head every day. I close my eyes and I see the hatred in Royal’s face. I take a shower, I see his face. Everywhere I look, I see him. My own brother, who tried to kill me. He failed at that, yet he still managed to take something precious away from all of us. Do any of you know how much it killed me to see them torture her like that?”

Manny starts to pace the floor. His breathing is heavily labored. His hand is clasped at the back of his neck.

“Manny,” Salvatore stands and walks cautiously towards his son. “I’m sorry, son.”

He opens his arms wide. Manny stands there for several long seconds. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for, that we’ve all talked about. Manny has kept this all to himself. He hasn’t spoken a word about it at all, up until now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I carefully regard John’s reception of hearing the things that Calla was subjected to. Neither he nor Salvatore have mentioned the video since that night. The flash drive has been destroyed, stomped into pieces by the heel of my boot and scattered somewhere alongside the road. There was no need to save it, it’s not like this crime will be reported to the police and Royal will be prosecuted. His punishment will be death. His body will be disposed of just like Monty’s, Emerald’s, and Kryder’s were.

It’s late in the afternoon the next day by the time we leave the house with John and Cecily and head toward the city and our new apartment. Make that two apartments. John and Cecily own one in the same building.

After Manny’s breakdown, Salvatore called an end to the meeting and asked Calla if he could come to her and talk, leaving her very suspicious as to what’s going on. Then he packed a bag and took off with Manny.

I’m worried about my friend. Either he’s really beating himself up over this, or something else is going on. What? I’m not sure. I can’t even bring my own mind to try and conjure up what these two have been through. Calla seems to be dealing with it fine. Then again, she’s really only had a little over twenty-four hours to think about it. The loss of our baby. The beatings. The drugs. When I tried bringing it up last night before bed, she told me she wasn’t ready to talk about it. I’m not going to push her; she’ll talk when she’s ready. But as a man, to have to sit there and know you can’t do a fucking thing to help a person you care about, let alone a woman being abused and damn near killed, I can’t even fathom the kind of shit going through my best friend’s head.

That brings us to right now. We’re riding in the back of a hired car to deter any suspicion from us.

“Are you nervous?” I whisper into her ear, the tall buildings of New York City coming into view.

“Anxious is more like it. I can’t believe we’re staying in a penthouse on Park Avenue. It’s crazy.”

I pull her into me, her breath blows warmly across my heated skin. The smell of her hair envelops me. My dick goes nuts, even with her mom and dad sitting in the seat opposite of us. I exhale and will the son of a bitch to keep himself in check, my brain telling him she’s still hurting.

“Calla. I almost forgot. Here.”

Her mom digs through her bag on the floor then slants forward, handing her a large envelope.

“What’s this?”

I look up at her mother, who sits back at ease with a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Nothing major, just some papers my mom printed off for me.”

I seize the envelope right out of her delicate little hands.

She laughs, not even trying to attempt to take it back.

“It’s an application for the NYU School of Law. Happy now?”

I kiss the top of her head.

“Very fucking happy.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Calla

I have never seen a building so tall, the outside so modernly constructed in my life. Craning my neck towards the sky, I stare up.

“How tall is this building? And please don’t tell me we’re all the way at the top?”

Cain’s arms snake around me from behind.

“Not all the way. About three quarters up. I’m not sure how tall it is. Enough to give us a perfect view of the city. You’re going to love it.”

The idea of being able to see the city excites me, although it may take some time to get used to. Heights and I don’t seem to get along very well. I remember the time my parents and I were on vacation. I had been so determined I was going to go on the new roller coaster. The minute we started the slow climb up, I squeezed my dad’s hand in a death grip and wouldn’t let go. As we started to descend, my stomach flew into my throat. I had to hold my breath all the way down, scared out of my mind.

Dad thought it was funny. Me, not so much. Especially when the moment we jumped off, I threw up all over the place. Not a pretty sight for a thirteen-year-old girl to have her head shoved into a garbage can while she throws up her lunch.

I chance a glance at my dad, who retrieves the last of our bags out of the back of the car, tips the driver, and gives me a knowing look as if he is remembering the same thing as I am.

“It’s nothing like that roller coaster, Calla. Now grab one of these suitcases and move your ass.”

I comply without delay, grabbing the handle of the suitcase and following behind my parents inside.

“Wow.”

I freeze for a moment, giving myself time to check out the lobby. It’s very chic and extremely elegant. A red wall runs down one side. The other side is all windows and doors leading back outside. Black and white leather furniture is grouped into small seating areas. My heels click across the marble tiled floor when I have to pick up the pace to catch up. The sound is delightful.

My favorite pair of Louboutins survived that horrible night I would just as soon forget. Even though at the time I would have loved nothing better than to have been able to stab both of Emerald’s eyes with the heels of my shoes, now I’m thankful I didn’t.

I continue on, feeling safe, shoving that night deep into the back of my mind. We stop briefly at the security desk where I’m introduced to two of the security guards. Both men are young and good-looking.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” they say in unison.

The bigger one of the two eyes me from head to toe. Cain growls from behind me.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I say politely.

“Let us know if you ever need anything, Mrs. Bexley,” he says.