Maybe I really was insane. Maybe both Lucian and I were. Maybe we were so blinded by our love for each other that we wanted nothing more than to show that off to the world rather than accept that it might get us killed. I just hoped the gossips wouldn’t find out where we were headed to on the weekend. The last thing I wanted was to be shot dead on the first red carpet we stepped onto.
I headed down to see Francesca after I’d showered and dressed, loving life in a decent pair of jeans that actually fit me. She was all smiles as we sat down to breakfast together, telling me all over again just how good my outfit choices were yesterday.
I saw genuine friendship in her eyes and craved more of that, trusting fate enough to have put a genuine friend in my path in this new world.
She clearly wasn’t expecting me to share my truth with her, not over her breakfast cereal. She nearly spilled the milk she was pouring onto her cornflakes when I looked her right in the eyes and said the words.
“Our families are probably going to try to kill us when they find out we’re here together. I just hope it’s not in the West End on Saturday night.”
She stared over at me for a few seconds before she responded. “Well, yes, I, um…I have heard plenty of stories about the rivalry between the Morellis and the Constantines.”
“Rivalry enough that they would want to wipe us out rather than see us together.”
“But surely they won’t be able to?” she asked me. “Not when you’re publicly declared as together and the whole world knows about it. Wouldn’t that point all the fingers directly at them?”
“I don’t know. I just know they’re going to try. Once we’re established in public and everyone is getting used to it, then maybe they won’t risk it, not without people speculating it was them with a grudge, but straight up that won’t mean anything to them. They’ll be too damn angry at being betrayed.”
“That’s what Devon said. He said the first round of revelations in public will be intense. Likely on both sides of the Atlantic. He said that’s why it’s been so important to get Lucian’s signature on so many deals and partnerships and so much set in stone.”
“Did he say he thinks we’ll get ourselves killed?” I dared to ask.
She poised her spoon on the way to her mouth, clearly taken aback. “He, um…he said there might be some…difficulties.”
I held her stare. “He thinks we’ll get ourselves killed, right?”
“He thinks it might be dangerous for a while, but he doesn’t think the West End will be the venue to wipe you out. He thinks the whole world is going to be cheering and flashing cameras and screaming it all over the globe.”
The idea of that still gave me excited tingles. I so much wanted to be in front of flashing cameras along with Lucian. I wanted people to be screaming it all over the globe.
I poured milk over my own cereal, managing a much easier smile as I shifted our chat onto much easier ground.
“So, tell me some more about Songbirds in the Wind,” I said.
She bought into the change of conversation, giving me a much easier smile herself. “It’s most certainly going to be a good one,” she said.
By the time she finished talking, I had no doubt about that.
I only hoped we’d survive it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucian
We had just a few days before the paparazzi would go insane. Just a few days before our presence would be known around the globe. I’d already seen the gossip columns. I knew the rumors were flying and I knew that our course ahead was clear. Me and her, standing strong.
I needed to be ready for it.
My web of connections was sealed in stone, secure and invested. Devon Quentin was at the head of a network that would keep Elaine and me at the heart of an empire. I could run Morelli Holdings from here for now. The location was temporary, but my companion was not.
She was my life now. Forever.
As well as setting up the Morelli-Constantine Manor, I was going to demonstrate my love for Elaine in the most spectacular of ways, and had already started on the arrangements, but first of all I had a much more pressing engagement to be putting my attention into.
“Are you sure this is a sound idea?” Quentin asked on the limo ride back to the manor. “The West End will be a fantastic venue to strut around in your first public appearance, but it will be…dramatic.”
“Are you trying to back out of the invitation to have us included on the VIP list like a pussy?” I asked him with a smirk on my face.
He rolled his eyes at me. “No, of course not, Morelli. I’m no pussy. I’m just well aware it will cause some controversy overseas.”
“Not as well aware as I am,” I replied. “I’m very well aware it will cause some controversy.”
He’d been looking into US gossip news too, I could see it. It was probably being whispered about behind every closed door in his corporate HQ. Morelli and Constantine, shhh. He was probably shitting his pants that he’d be caught up in the crossfire if my family opted to take us out on the red carpet that weekend.
“Fine, then,” he said. “If you’re signing your own death warrant, that’s your call.”
I’d been weighing that up myself, and I was undoubtedly signing my own death warrant. Whether they’d come for us outside a London West End theater was a different matter. I didn’t think even my family or Elaine’s would be quite so brazen as to take us out so blatantly in public. Still, I could be surprised. They could try.
Hopefully they wouldn’t. Hopefully both sides of the battlefield would realize that we weren’t just escapees on the run looking for an easy life anymore, we were standing proud and firm, ready for the fight.
At least, I was. I’d fight with flying axes and fists and machine guns happily enough all day long, but my Elaine was a beautiful little darling who deserved protection from every flying fist on the planet. I’d give everything to give her that protection.
We were approaching the driveway when Quentin’s cell buzzed. His eyes went straight to mine once he’d read the message.
“Those things you wanted,” he said, clearly aware of the driver’s ears in the front seat.
“Yes?” I prompted, knowing full well what things he was referring to.
“They’ll be ready soon,” he told me. “Sunday evening most likely. They’ll be delivered by nightfall.”
I was pleased. Very fucking pleased. “Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
My tiredness was catching up with me as we left the limo on the driveway and stepped back into the manor. I’d barely slept the night before, but my senses were on high alert as Elaine came charging down the hallway, flinging herself into my arms.
“Welcome home, baby,” she whispered, peppering my cheeks with kisses.
Home.
Another use of the word out of the blue.
I couldn’t wait to see her exclamation when she saw the home of our own. It appeared the impetus to move out of Quentin Manor wouldn’t be coming from the Quentins anytime soon, though. Both Francesca and Devon looked very enthusiastic when the housekeeper approached us about dinner that evening, asking us what time we’d be sitting down to eat.