As he moans and writhes in the chair, Makaio grabs one of the tools from beside him and prods a sharp-looking object into the man’s side.
Franco arches, his voice cracking on a scream before it dies down to another sob.
The sight of his tears tugs a smile that I bury in the last of my drink. “Turns out, you were right, Franco. I am fucking crazy.”
Chapter 33
Lucian
Eight years ago …
Annoying giggles echo down the hall as I pass the atrium on the way to answer my father’s summons. The sound is as much a nuisance as the girl’s presence, and when I catch sight of Amelia, sitting on one of the chairs beside my mother, while the two of them appear to trim flowers, I can’t help but wonder how much longer this will go on. What started as an invitation to spend the week with us has turned into nearly a month of her and my mother running around this place like two obnoxious teenagers.
Amelia flashes yet another flirtatious smile, one of many in the last month, and I turn my head to dodge it and keep on down the hall, toward my father’s office.
It seems she’s always there, wherever I am. Whether it’s in the pool, the gym, the garden, the hallways. I can’t stand that she’s everywhere. Always flirting and offering things I’m pretty sure my mother wouldn’t approve of, if she heard them.
Of course, I always refuse.
I don’t know what it is about her. She’s undeniably one of the most beautiful girls in Tempest Cove, and yet, I’m not attracted to her in the least. Not since I’ve been forced to spend every day avoiding her, anyway. I’m waiting for my mother to bring up marriage, and that’ll be when I put my foot down.
There’s no way in hell I’ll marry Amelia Boyd.
The elevator opens, and I slow my steps on entering my father’s office, where he sits across from Mayor Boyd. Frowning, I keep my eyes on Boyd, while I take my seat beside him and look back to my father, whose flat expression offers no indication as to what this meeting is about.
“Hello, Lucian,” Boyd says, his voice tense as he stares down at his entwined hands.
“Hello.”
“Lucian, you know I’m not one to beat around the bush, so I’m just going to get right to the point of this meeting.” My father has a way of setting my nerves on edge with his honesty, and today will be no exception. “Did you fuck Amelia?”
A bolt of shock pierces my chest, squeezing my lungs, and I sit forward to cough. “I’m sorry, what?” I try not to look at Boyd, whose glare is practically burning a hole in the side of my head right now. The last time I touched the girl was the night of my party, holed up in the cleaning closet, and I haven’t had the inclination to go near her since. “I mean, we fooled around. A little.”
“Did the two of you have sex?”
“It’s … not what …” I swallow a harsh gulp and glance to the side, catching sight of Boyd’s stern brows and unamused expression. “I wouldn’t call it sex, really.”
“’Fucks sakes, boy. Did you stick your dick inside her?” My father’s questions have my hands sweating.
“For a couple minutes, I guess. Yeah.”
Rolling his eyes, my father groans.
“Why are you asking me this?” Shifting my attention between Boyd, whose flat lips and balled hands are a pretty good sign he wants to kill me, and my father who slouches in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face, I don’t know whether to duck or run. “It was completely consensual between us. She wanted it as much--”
“She’s pregnant, Lucian.” My father’s words punch my gut, and I clutch my stomach as bile shoots up my throat.
“Pregnant?” The back of my hand muffles the question, as I try to hold back the torrent of vomit itching to break free. “I didn’t even … I wore a condom. And I never …”
“Condoms break. Surely your prestigious education has taught you something on sex ed.” The ire in Boyd’s voice confirms what I already suspected--the man would probably try to kill me, if my father weren’t sitting across from him right now.
“Are you sure it’s …” I know the answer to this, though. Amelia hasn’t left the Manor since the night of the party, a month ago. As terrifying as it may be, I am the most probable suspect.
“Come on now, boy.” My father swipes up the glass of liquor on the desk in front of him and guzzles what’s left of it. “If that girl pined any harder for you, her feet would be stuck in the dirt, with roots coming out of her ass.”
Boyd clears his throat, rolling his shoulders back. “Kindly bear in mind this is my only daughter.”
“The Boyds are Catholic, as you know. It’s not their way to terminate a pregnancy, or get knocked up out of wedlock, for that matter.” Tapping his finger on the desktop, my father stares off for a moment, seeming to chew on his lips. “You’re going to marry her.”
Another punch to the gut. This one harder, the pain of it shooting up into my ribcage. “What? No. I can’t.”
“You have no choice, Lucian. You got yourself into this mess.”
“I’ll be there for her. I’ll raise the child. Ensure that it never wants for anything, but I cannot marry her.”
“You can desecrate her, though? Put your filth inside her?” Boyd speaks through gritted teeth, his anger burgeoning before my eyes.
“It doesn’t work that way, Son. Mayor Boyd has a reputation to uphold. How do you think it looks if his only daughter is pregnant, without a husband?”
I don’t care how the fuck it looks. It’s my life he’s looking to muddle, and it’s not like she didn’t have a say in what we did that night. “This isn’t the seventeenth century. Women get pregnant and have children, without marriage, all the time.”
Cheeks puffed, my father lets out a long, dramatic exhale. “The decision has been made. You’ll marry Amelia Boyd, and that’s final.”
Chapter 34
Isadora
Nearly two weeks have passed since the incident with my mother and the drug dealer. I’ve texted Aunt Midge every day, twice sometimes, to see how she’s doing. If she’s heard anything. Seen anything. Gotten a sense that he might come back.
Everything has been quiet.
Lucian hasn’t said a word to me since I braved barging into his office to thank him. We pass each other in the hallway sometimes, but it’s like two ships passing on a placid sea. Not a word spoken between us. I’ve caught him watching me a few times, when I’ve been out in the garden, or playing piano, but never longer than a fleeting moment before he looks away.
Maybe I’ve thought too much of it, because I’ve had more dreams of him lately. Dark dreams I wouldn’t dare tell a soul about, not even Kelsey. Ones where he keeps me imprisoned in this place, and I find myself questioning whether he’s good, or evil. The other night, I woke up sweating and panting, calling out for him.
Humiliating to think that Giulia may have heard me.
I suppose I’ve always been drawn to older men, having developed well before most girls my age. The boys I grew up with were immature and plain stupid, always touching. Fondling.