“I can’t do that.” His eyes were sharp and narrowed, and I could tell he didn’t believe that I’d walk out on him.
But he didn’t understand what had happened with Cora. He didn’t understand because he’d never felt it—Hedeon had never been close to anyone in his life. He’d had women, plenty of women, but I’d never seen him keep one around for more than a few days, a week at most, before moving on to something else. He didn’t do attachments, didn’t do emotions, and there was no way he’d understand that sort of thing in someone else.
I couldn’t expect sympathy from him, and so I’d take care of this myself.
“Goodbye, Hedeon,” I said, and for a second I wondered if it would be for the last time.
He said nothing as I strode out that door and to my car. I sat behind the wheel breathing hard, trying to stay calm. I felt like I’d walked out on the crew and that there would be no going back.
That was probably true. If I went through with this—Hedeon would never let me return.
I put the car in gear and pulled out, face set, sure that I was making the right choice, even if it meant leaving my old life behind.
20
Cora
Halfway to the mansion, Dante shoved a black bag over my head.
I struggled at first until Dante pinned me down. “Keep fighting and it’ll be worse,” he growled, and I gave up. I knew they had me and there was nothing I could do.
They hustled me inside. I thought I recognized the sound of the mansion’s entry, the way the sound bounced off the tile. They dragged me up some steps, along more halls, and finally deposited me into a room. I heard them lock the door as they left, and after a few minutes, I pulled the bag off my head and took in my surroundings.
It was dark but my eyes were already half adjusted. There was a single bed against the wall, a desk across from it, a dresser, and a small closet. Another door led into a sparse, cramped bathroom, barely more than a sink, a toilet, and a tight standing shower. One window overlooked the street outside, but black bars kept me from trying to climb out. I considered yelling for help—but that would only draw Vincent’s ire and make this situation worse.
I sat at the edge of the lumpy bed and bounced up and down. It was the least comfortable room in the whole mansion as far as I knew, and I wondered how many more there were. I tried the door, but it was locked from the outside, and I got the feeling that this place was specifically designed to keep someone locked away.
I stared at my feet and thought about Reid. I tried to picture him coming home and finding it a wreck, the place ripped to pieces, his life thrown onto the floor and broken to bits—and wondered if he’d be more upset that his house got destroyed, or that I got taken away.
I hoped the latter. I wanted him to miss me, although I knew that was selfish as hell. He couldn’t do anything for me now, not without sparking a huge city-wide gang war, and that was something we’d both been working hard to avoid. I wished I could talk to him, tell him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault—that he didn’t need to do something stupid for me.
But I wanted something stupid. I wanted his arms around me, his body against mine, all the hours we spent in bed together learning to enjoy what our marriage had to offer, I wanted it all back. I needed him to know that something happened, that whatever we’d been growing, whatever we’d been thrown into, it was real, it was all becoming real, and it could be something good if we let it.
None of that would happen now. I was gone and there was nothing he could do about it, not while I was locked up in the most heavily defended place in the whole damn world.
I was back in that hell all over again. For a little while, it felt like I’d gotten away from the Leone family and was starting to make a new life for myself with Reid, but now I was sucked in again, back in the one place I didn’t want to be and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I didn’t know how long I paced around trying to release some angry, frustrated energy, but as the light dimmed outside and the shadows grew longer, I heard sounds from the mansion. I heard people moving around, voices, conversations. I couldn’t tell who was talking or what was said, but people were coming and going, and that was strangely comforting.
Then as the sun set, I heard the locks in my door open. I stood up, stomach rumbling. I half expected food and after—but instead, Vincent stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
He regarded me for a long moment with tired eyes. His shirt was rumpled, his suit jacket wrinkled, and I wondered if he’d had a difficult day then decided I didn’t give a damn.
My day was a lot worse.
“You caused me a ton of trouble, you know that?” His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting most of the afternoon.
I laughed and shook my head. It was fucked up, hearing that come out of his mouth, as if I should feel bad for him somehow. “Yeah, well, you’re causing me a lot worse, so I guess it’s even.”
His face twisted into rage. “Even? You don’t get it, do you?”
I stepped toward him, setting my jaw. “Why don’t you tell me then?”
“Everyone’s watching me.” He stalked across the room, hands clasped behind his back like a caged tiger. “Do you know what that’s like? Every rich person, everyone with an ounce of power, they’re all watching, waiting, and wondering how I’ll fuck this up. Every single one of them.”
“I almost feel bad for you,” I snapped, “except here I am, stuck in a prison.”
He turned and stared. “I’d much rather be in your position.”
“Then let’s trade places.”
He smirked and shook his head. I wished I could slap him in the face, but I knew that would only cause more problem than it was worth. Hurting him wouldn’t buy my freedom, and really it would only make him crack down on me harder.
I wondered if there weren’t some way out of this—and then it occurred to me that he didn’t give a damn about me at all. This whole thing was about his stress, his workload, his problems, and I was just a consequence of all those things. He didn’t care what happened to me so long as all his problems went away, and I was only here because he wanted to take it out on someone. I was nothing to him and I never had been.
“You’re lucky, you realize that? All this hard work turned out for nothing. Your husband made my life very, very difficult, and you get to walk away.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell—then stopped myself.
“Walk away?” I asked, not sure what he meant, and wondering if this was some kind of trick.
“As much as I want to punish you for all this bullshit, you’re still family, and it would look pretty damn bad. So I’m going to pay you the million you’re owed and send you on your way.”
“Pay me… what?” I felt like my world tipped on its side. I had to lean against the dresser to keep from tilting and falling over.
He laughed and shook his head. “I know, it’s stupid, isn’t it? But yes, I’m going to pay you, but there’s a catch.”
“What?” I managed.
“You’re going to stay in the city and work for the family. I’m thinking of naming you our liaison to the state government.”