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But she hasn’t asked about the cuts and bruises, because she already knows how I got them. She’s no better than Greta. She cocks her head. Raises a brow. My fingers twitch with the desire to do bad things. But instead, I choke down my bitterness and rise to my feet.
She looks up at me lazily. “What happened to your lip?” “Your father beat the ever-living crap out of me. Thanks for noticing.” It slips off my tongue with ease. The truth tastes good. Her eyebrows shoot up and I raise a champagne flute to toast to her, before sinking it back in one.
She’s right, he is the worst, even to her.
Tor breezes in, a face like thunder, and for once, no giggling girl on his arm.
He wouldn’t leave me here. He promised. It can’t be true. Can it?
Well, the truth came in the form of an automated voice on the other end of the line: The number you have reached has been disconnected.
“He’s gone, Aurora. Forget about him.” “How do you know?” “He told me so himself.”
“You already chose a side.” “What?” “On Friday night. You knew it was Angelo and you covered for him. That means you chose a side.”
Heat prickles my cheeks. Even now, in the middle of his disappearance and the ever-growing rage I have toward him, the thought of Angelo being a know-it-all on picking up women irks me.
“Has he really gone?” I whisper. He swallows, avoiding my gaze. Nods.
He promised. I trust him. He’ll be there.
“He’s not here, Aurora. Just go ahead with the wedding and we can forget any of this happened.” Tor’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard it, and for some reason, it makes me even more angry.
My vision blurs behind the tears I’ve been holding back for so long, but now, I let them fall. Hot and fat, they roll down my cheeks in a mix of frustration and heartache, and I know, I just know, that now I’ve started, I won’t be able to stop. I’m as mad myself as I am at him. I can’t stay, Rory. He’d warned me, more than once, that he’d leave.
But when someone is desperate and hopeful, they’ll cling onto the things they want to hear. Like him promising he’ll get me out of this. Like him asking me to trust him.
“He’s isn’t here.” Gabe’s gruff words physically hurt me.
A tinge of fear colors my expression; he’s as big and as imposing as his brothers, but doesn’t have the same charm to take the edge off.
“You’ve been listening to my…?” He taps the AirPod in his ear. “I listen to every single sin that comes through.”
He knows. Gabriel Visconti knows my deepest, darkest sin, and I’m all alone with him in an empty hangar.
I should beg him not to tell anyone, but I can’t seem to make myself care. I don’t have the energy. Instead, I drag the back of my hand over my wet cheeks and shrug. “Okay.” This time, he lets me pass without stopping me, but then his hand shoots out, grabs my wrist, and spins me around. His eyes are dark and dangerous, smoldering like a sea-green sun. “If Angelo doesn’t come back, I expect another call.” My temples thump. What? How sick and twisted can this man be?
“And this time, I hope your sin won’t be hypothetical.”
I couldn’t care less about him groping other girls—rather them than me—but it’s the blatant disrespect that irks me.
The second plan, to rely on Angelo, was a naive and stupid one.
I’m hardened by betrayal and humiliation, and I am ready.
I’ll plunge right into the dark abyss, and it’ll welcome me with open arms.
She reaches for my wrist as I pass her, but I’m quick to snatch it out of her reach. It’s a sharp movement, one that makes her flinch.
They are all accomplices, and I want nothing more than to chuck a grenade in here and run.
My eyes clash with my reflection and I feel like I’ve been shot in the stomach. I do look beautiful. Any outsider would think I’m a virginal bride about to walk down the aisle and find the love of her life waiting for her at the end of it.
I look beautiful, but I don’t look like me.
It should have been him. Him at the end of the aisle, him who weighed down my finger with a rock. I bite back the emotion rising up my throat. No, it shouldn’t have. But for some pathetic reason, I wish it was. Despite the fact he used me, spat me out, and broke his promise, if it was Angelo waiting at the end of the aisle, I wouldn’t be looking for my opportunity to escape.
Tor. He’s leaning against the side of his car, cutting a sharp figure in a tux. A lit cigarette is halfway up to his lips, but he pauses to rake a suspicious eye over me.
I always say it here, just to see how the truth tastes, and today, it tastes delicious. Another step closer to the edge. The fabric of my dress billows, a gust of wind finding its way up my skirt. The first time I stood on this cliff, I called it. It was always going to come to this. Me, standing on the edge of the Devil’s Dip’s highest cliff and thinking bad thoughts.
I tried doing a good thing, but good doesn’t seem to ever cancel out the bad.
I’m ready. I pop a lid, but before I can look around for my purse, I’m thrown backward by a force so strong that it knocks the wind out of me me. What the hell? Hot hands scorch my rib cage, strong and warm. A familiar scent—one I associate with danger—assaults my senses. “I swear to God, Rory. You better know how to fly, because if you fall, I’m coming with you.”
Even if I wanted to jump, his body is wrapped around me so tightly, I’d never be able to escape him.
“Ask me for a sin.” He stills. Eyes dart to the raging sea behind me, then he gives a small shake of his head. “I don’t want it.” His hand moves to the nape of my neck possessively. “Not here.” I suck in a lungful of air and give it to him anyway. “The day you saw me up here, I wasn’t going to jump.” I swallow. “I was never going to jump. Not then, not today.”
“I was trying to see if it was high enough. Because I need it to be high enough so that if I push Alberto off it, he’ll definitely die.”
“Fuck, baby. Do you know what it feels like to kill a man?” “A man like Alberto? Probably pretty good.” Despite his fury, dark amusement tugs at his lips. He gives a small shake of his head. Disbelief. “My bad girl.”
His slips his over mine, fingering the ring on my finger. Then he tugs it off, rough and fast. “What are you—?” The diamond glints against the gloomy sky as he hurls it, hard, over the edge of the cliff. When he looks back at me, his gaze clashes with mine, the word vicious flashing across his eyes like a warning sign.
Before I can respond, he scoops me up and slings me over his shoulder, roughly gripping the fabric of my dress. His hands are warm and possessive as they find my thigh. He snaps the garter against my skin, hard, and lets out an animalistic growl. “I’m going to burn this fucking dress when we get home.” Home. The word alone makes my pulse flutter.
“I’m taking what’s mine” “Yours?” He drops me onto the passenger seat of his car and leans against the door frame. “Yeah. A capo needs a wife. Guess I choose you.”
“I know. I’ve always fucking known.”
“Are you really coming back?” “Yes.” “For good?” His hand finds my thigh, heavy and reassuring. “For good.”
"I called your number and it was out of service." He considers this. "Fuck, you're right, baby. I disconnected it in preparation of becoming Capo. I need an untraceable line. I didn't even think, I was just so fucking busy." He swallows and squeezes my thigh. "I'm so sorry."
I nod, slowly taking it all in. “But you hate Devil’s Dip.” His eyes harden on the windshield. “But I don’t hate you.”
“Gabe’s going to keep you safe. I’m going to need you to do everything he says until I get back.” I whip round. “Get back? Where are you going?” His expression darkens. “To tell Alberto not to expect you to walk down the aisle today.”
“Stay with me. At least for today? He’ll figure it out soon enough.” His smirk is cold, calculated. Vicious. The darkest part of me wants to clamp my mouth over it and breathe it all in. “It’s not the only thing I need to tell him, baby.”
Angelo might have been on a straight and narrow path for the last nine years, but I’ve never met a man scarier than him. He reigns a quiet terror; it hums off him like a sonic signal when he walks into a room, and it makes the air immediately shift. He was raised to be a made man, but he was destined to be a king. “Kiss me.” Instinctively, his eyes drop to my lips. “What?”
But then he pauses. “If I kiss you, it means I’m not sure if I’ll make it back to you.” He nips on my bottom lip, provoking a pathetic moan from me. “And I’m very fucking sure I’ll make it back, Magpie.”
Angelo greets his brother with a stern expression. “Look after my girl for me.” “Yes, boss.”
“When I come back, you better have taken that fucking dress off, or I’m going to rip it off with my teeth.” Breathless from the venom threaded through his tone, I only have enough wits to nod foolishly. His voice and expression soften. “Good girl.”
