Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice Book 5)

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Calliope?”

  I glanced at the door, not noticing when he had come back in.

  He looked over me, frowning. “What is it?”

  I shook my head. “I just realized tomorrow is Sunday. Since people saw us out today, we have to go to church tomorrow.”

  “Are you afraid you will run into those nuns again?” he asked—again with his humor.

  “You are not funny!” I snapped, throwing my fist at him, but he caught it. I couldn’t help but laugh. Even though in the back of my mind, I knew, my grandfather was still waiting.

  I had six more days.

  17

  “As the lily among thorns,

  so is my love among the daughters.”

  ~ Solomon Ibn Gabirol

  NARI

  When I arrived at the manor, I felt the hair raise on my arms. I looked up at what had always been my home, not sure what to expect. Was I welcome? Was I still in the doghouse? Was I supposed to meet them somewhere else? I wasn’t even sure which church we were going to yet. Our family church was still under construction.

  I could have called. But then I didn’t, and I knew why. For the first time, I felt…nervous. I didn’t want to hear the answer. Or worse, get no answer at all. Since I had left, no one had called me. Not my father, brother, or even my mom, and I knew then the only reason they wouldn’t. They were told not to. Or it was clear they were expected not to. Despite the fact that my father was Ethan’s uncle, my father truly believed in the order of this family. You do not go against the Ceann na Conairte…or his wife.

  “Ma’am?”

  I glanced up at my driver, who stood, holding the door open for me, even though I hadn’t gotten out. I tucked my hand under the bottom of my skirt before stepping onto the gravel. The doors were already open. O’Phelan stood in the middle of the entryway dressed to the nines—always a proper butler, even with a gold pocket watch in the vest of his three-piece suit. I looked at him, wondering, and he gave me a small nod.

  Exhaling, I turned my attention to my driver. “You may go. I’ll be with my family.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, going around to the driver’s side door.

  Walking up the stairs, I tucked my clutch under my arm, smiling at him. “Good morning, O’Phelan.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Khan.”

  I froze and looked at him.

  Again, he just nodded. Telling me he—and most likely, all of the staff—had been directed to call me that.

  Let the humbling begin.

  “Well, look who the cat dragged back in,” Helen said with a smirk on her face, dressed in a deep orange, fitted cocktail dress which went below her knees, a white blazer on her shoulders, and a pair of Prada shoes, the heels of which were adorned in crystals. Her brown hair was pulled back into one big curly ponytail.

  “Miss me?” I asked, kissing her cheeks.

  “You’ve been gone for four days.” She laughed, and I looked around.

  “Are you sure it’s only been four days?” Because too much had changed in just twenty-four hours. The whole place looked different.

  “Calli doesn’t waste time.” She chuckled, looking around herself. “She basically had people working around the clock.”

  Calli? We were calling her by a nickname now? “Why? Are we hosting someone?”

  She shrugged but didn’t reply as the rest of our family got off the elevator. The first person off was my mother. She was dressed in a deep purple dress, her brown eyes focused on me…she looked sad…and relieved. All I could do was smile.

  “Welcome back,” my father said as he got downstairs, dressed in his favorite navy suit and fedora, a purple tie to compliment my mom’s outfit.

  “Thank you. Nice gangster hat,” I teased.

  “Don’t be jealous. It takes a certain swagger to rock this hat,” he said, and both my mom and I gave him a look.

  “That’s the look for when you’re trying too hard, Uncle Neal,” Wyatt said.

  “Yeah, just like that suit,” my dad shot back.

  Wyatt was dressed in a dark-brown, double-breasted suit and tie. I looked at him and Helen; they fit together, but discreetly. He held a black umbrella, not because it was going to rain but to help him stand up straighter—also discreetly. Seeing as he was still healing, he had to be in a little pain, too.

  “I like the suit.” Helen smiled, pulling something off his shoulder. They both shared a look.

  “Oh God, please don’t kiss, or I’ll hurl,” Darcy said as he came out of the living room with Uncle Declan and Aunt Coraline right behind him.

  Both were wearing all black and gray. Uncle Declan just glared at Wyatt, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “Uncle Declan, aren’t your eyes tired of all that glaring?” Wyatt asked with a smile. “You know you love me.”

  “I’d love to break your legs…again,” Uncle Declan muttered, looking away from him.

  “Dad—”

  “Did he do something bad, Nana?”

  We all looked back to see Ethan’s daughter and Evelyn coming from the kitchen. She looked so sweet dressed in all white, with a little cape on her shoulders, a green, white, and red ribbon on her chest and a hat with her hair in full curls underneath it.

  “Nana, did Uncle Wyatt do something bad?” she asked Evelyn, who wore a simple beige dress and jacket on top, with one small lily pinned to her jacket. “Uncle Declan said he was going to break his legs.”

  “Good morning, Giovanna. How are you?” Wyatt asked, moving to her. “We didn’t get to hang out last night.”

  “I know.” She nodded and smiled back “You were sleeping.”

  Wyatt made a face at her. “You were sleeping, too!”

  “I’m a kid.” She shrugged.

  “Uncle Wyatt thinks he’s a kid, too,” Evelyn teased.

  Giovanna made a face and shook her head. “Uncle Wyatt, you can’t be a kid!”

  “Why not?” Wyatt asked.

  “’Cause you’re too big and old. There was a person like that back at our other home. He was big and old, but he didn’t know and acted like a kid. Mommy said it was because he was sick and that I shouldn’t be mean to him. Uncle, are you sick?”

  “Wow,” Wyatt muttered, standing up straighter and looking back to the rest of us. “Even his daughter lectures me?”

  “She’s smart.” Uncle Declan grinned until Giovanna looked at him.

  “Uncle, you can’t be mean to sick people,” she told him, and he just stared down at her. “He’s family, Uncle. You have to love your family.”

  Helen and Aunt Cora both laughed at him.

  “It’s like young Ethan all over again,” Uncle Neal replied, shaking his head.

  “Well, I’m not sick. I’ll do my best to be more grown up—if you promise to play with me and tell me all about your time in Italy,” Wyatt said.

  Evelyn sighed before saying, “So that is all it took? And here I’ve been trying to get you to grow up for years.”

  “I’m starting to feel picked on,” Wyatt pouted, causing all of us to roll our eyes.

  “We can play next Saturday,” Giovanna said, and we all just looked at her.

  “Why next Saturday?” Helen asked. “You don’t want to play when we come back?”

  Giovanna frowned and shook her head. “Mommy is gonna say no, ‘cause I need to start school and training.”

  Everyone froze at the word training. For a second, we’d forgotten. We’d forgotten how Callahan children were raised like we hadn’t all gone through it.

  “What kind of training?” Wyatt asked softly, the usual joy and light-hearted mood in his voice gone.

  Giovanna opened her mouth to speak; however, it wasn’t her we heard.

  “You’ll just have to see tomorrow,” Calliope’s gentle voice spoke out from above us.

  We all looked at the top of the stairs where she stood in a one-of-a-kind, custom, white, long-sleeved Sal Fallaci coat dress, made of the softest and most expensive material—prized
Vicuna wool. A normal coat or dress made of it would cost half a million, but it wasn’t a normal coat or dress. The inside of it was embroidered and lined with Mulberry silk. The buttons were made of authentic ancient Roman coins that had been hand-painted with gold. All this was why it was one of a kind and one of the most expensive pieces ever created by Sal Fallaci.

  How did I know this? I knew because I had just tried to bid on it a few weeks ago, during Fashion Week, only to be told it had already been purchased. The owner allowed it to be displayed and not walked. I offered more money. They refused. I tried to find out who had bought it; they declined. She’d even customized it more; it was now pleated in the sides…which meant they added more material to it and a little bit above her knees, which meant they had cut it.

  Oh…I didn’t know why I was so pissed. But I was. I loved that dress. I wanted it badly. How in the hell?

  And as if she needed to stand out more, on the breast of it she had military medals and honors—she’d poked pins into the material—and it looked nice. She looked better than nice. Her long hair was down in waves over her shoulders. She wasn’t just beautiful or dignified but almost royal or something. It was only when Ethan stepped up beside her wearing a navy, slim-fit suit with a gray waistcoat, did I realize my mistake. It wasn’t like she was royal…they were.

  “Good morning, everyone,” she said.

  As she came down the stairs, I saw her white pumps, the bottom and heels of which were gold. She walked directly toward me and stood in front of my face, her gray eyes piercing mine, and just like that, the world fell silent, and that fear crept back slowly.

  “I’m not one of those people who quietly accepts apologizes.” Translation, she wanted it here and now, in front of everyone.

  I had to inhale to push the feelings back down my throat before I shook my head no and forced myself to smile. “You were right. I’m sorry about how I acted the other day. I was out of line, and it won’t happen again.”

  A grin spread across her face, and it was not sweet or kind but mocking.

  Kill me now.

  “Apology accepted.” She nodded and turned from me, looking to O’Phelan, who came to her with a small tray of lily flowers without the stem. “Today is November 7th, also known as Giorno dell 'Unità Nazionale e Festa delle Forze Armate—the National Unity and Armed Forces Day. Those who did not serve show their respect by wearing the flower of Italy…the lily. We’ll be going to a church service for the fallen and then brunch today for the veterans,” she said.

  Taking one of the flowers, she moved to Ethan, who watched her like a hungry hawk. She lifted his lapel without bothering to ask him, pinning the flower to it. O’Phelan passed around the flowers to the rest of us.

  “What happened to your face?” Wyatt asked Ethan, pointing at a cut over his eyebrow.

  “He slipped,” Calliope answered, clearly lying.

  “Really? Like he somehow cut his hand shaving a few days ago?” Wyatt pressed, looking to between them both.

  “Ethan, I think your brother thinks you are a victim of domestic violence,” Calliope grumbled.

  “Oh?” Ethan looked at his brother. “And how do you plan on saving me from her, brother?”

  Wyatt simply shook his head.

  “Mommy,” Gigi yanked on her hand. “What’s dogestick violence.” Funny how the kid knew how to say the word violence.

  “It’s when mommies and daddies hit each other,” Calliope surprisingly answered somewhat honestly.

  Gigi’s eyes widened when she looked at Wyatt. “No, Uncle, Mommy and Daddy don’t do dogestick violence.”

  Ethan walked over to her, placing his hand on her head. “Don’t mind Uncle Wyatt, he is always making things up in his head.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to dishonor the Italian Armed Forces, even though we are American,” Ethan spoke, not at all acknowledging his brother.

  The little girl grinned and giggled, wrapping her arms around him.

  “You’re an Italian Irish American. You see how American goes last in that order?” Calliope shot back, rising to her feet and glaring at Ethan as he spoke.

  He was trying to pick a fight with her.

  “As my last name is Callahan. I believe the correct order is Irish before Italian—”

  “I think whatever you think is irrelevant, especially if you do not want to lose the small percentage of Italians that still support you, Mr. Callahan,” she snapped back with a smile.

  It was a smile Ethan did not return. His glare was hard; his nostrils even flared once. The one thing Ethan truly hated was to be belittled, chastised, or criticized in front of family…hell, anyone, actually.

  Aunt Cora and Uncle Declan both stepped forward, ready to defuse the situation before Ethan actually smacked the hell out of his daughter’s mother right in front of her. However, either because she didn’t care or she didn’t realize the danger she was in, she stepped closer and tapped her daughter’s round little nose.

  “What’s our mission for today?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Her daughter grinned. “Help Papa.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s Papa,” she stated.

  “Exactly.” Calliope nodded and giggled. “He’s made a big mess, and we can’t live in messes, can we? We’re too special, and special people deserve the best things. The best things are made by Italians. Which is why we need as many Italian friends as we can get.” Her eyes drifted up to him. “That’s why we need to help Papa because he’s not good at making friends.”

  “Don’t worry, Papa; everyone loves Mommy and me!” Giovanna said with a childlike seriousness that would have made us all laugh, if not for the tension. She placed her hands on his cheek to reassure him she was up for the job.

  He turned and kissed her small hands softly and then smiled. “I thank you in advance then. But how are you going to help exactly, little one?” He walked away from Calliope and toward the front doors, giving his full attention to his daughter.

  “I’m going to smile and be nice. Mommy said that was all I need to do. Oh, and maybe draw a picture or maybe…” Giovanna went on, explaining as he carried her out the doors.

  “I guess I won that argument,” Calliope muttered, rolling her eyes as she handed a note to the maid. “For dinner.” It was all she said before walking forward, everyone else following her.

  It was so weird. How the hell was she walking around like she owned the place? How the hell was she speaking to Ethan that way? Why was no one stopping her?

  “You did well,” my dad whispered, pinching my arm slightly and giving me a smile.

  “Wouldn’t it have been better if I hadn’t messed up to start with?” I whispered back. “I feel like an idiot for fighting with her, Dad.” I should have waited to better understand the situation before acting.

  He gave one of those dad smiles, that was kind and made me feel like I was making a big deal out of nothing he couldn’t fix.

  “No, you’d look like an idiot if you held on to your pride and avoided the family for weeks like I did before my brother humbled me,” he said, leading me out the front door.

  I looked at him, not knowing, and he just nodded. “Just proves you’re my kid, right? Stubborn blockheads.”

  I laughed softly to myself but stopped when I got outside to find Sedric glaring at me. “What’s his problem?”

  “Because he stuck his nose in, he’s basically been pushed to the side by Ethan, and now, Darcy is the one standing next to Ethan and Wyatt.”

  My mother came up beside me, frowning as she looked at me. “When will you realize that your actions affect him, too? You owe him an apology as well.” She walked down the stairs, smiling and placing her hand on his shoulder.

  I looked at my dad, and he just made a face. Like…I can’t help you with this one. He did make a fist and mouth “fighting” before walking toward the car.

  This was going to be a long fucking day.<
br />
  HELEN

  Wyatt winked before offering my mother his arm, leading her to his Range Rover. She got in on the driver’s side as I stood with my father next to the Porsche.

  “So, the plan is to divide and conquer?” my father muttered to himself.

  “Are you really going to be this way, Dad?” I asked him.

  “Be what way?” he asked, opening the passenger side door for me.

  I frowned, and he just smiled back. Sighing, I got in carefully, tucking my skirt underneath me. I waited for him to go around to the driver’s side and take his seat behind the wheel before just coming out and saying it. “Do you want me to die an old maid?”

  “You’re being dramatic. He isn’t the only man in the world—”

  “He is the only one I love, though.”

  He froze for a moment, his mouth twitching in annoyance. Sighing, he nodded. “I prefer you being an old maid.”

  “Dad!”

  He chuckled, taking my hand. “I’m just kidding.”

  “You’re only partially joking,” I muttered back, pulling away and crossing my arms. “And it sucks, Dad. This sucks. Having to be on my toes all the time around you both. I don’t like it. I love you, Daddy. But I’m in love with Wyatt. I want to be with Wyatt. Could you imagine how you’d feel if your dad hated Mom?”

  “He did,” he whispered as he pulled out of the driveway.

  “What?”

  He glanced at me. “Sedric, Liam’s father, my uncle and adoptive father, hated your mother. Why? Because we are a family of tradition. Or at least we were. He didn’t care about her per se, but he cared about how my relationship with her would affect the other families' views of us. Do you know what she did?”

  “What?”

  “She got Sedric to accept her. She got all of us to accept her. After Evelyn, who do you think is going to the matriarch of this family now? The men of this family need to be able to do more than just—”