“How do you know about Ella?” I whisper as I lean next to her.
Shiloh pulls out her phone.
Shiloh: They don’t know I know French and understand everything they are saying.
My eye brows go up in surprise. This family is giving me enough ammunition to own them for decades. The cries inside the bathroom start to slow as it seems Harry is finishing up and leaving his underage partner behind in the race to climax. I grab Shiloh’s hand and pull her away before we get caught.
Quietly, we make it to the bedroom, and I lock the door behind us. Shiloh looks around the room, taking in the king-sized bed that takes up most of the space.
“Your clothes are in the closet if you want to shower and change before dinner,” I tell her.
She nods and then points to the bed, questions in her eyes.
“Yeah. You’ll stay with me here tonight. We gave your room to Clara.”
We both know this is a bad idea, but I’m starting to forget all the reasons why.
Shiloh nods and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the shower kick on, so I pull out my phone and text Hans with what Shiloh told me. Money can be very convincing but sometimes a little extra blackmail can seal the deal.
chapter sixteen
shiloh
YOU NEVER REALIZE how small you are until you are surrounded by the ocean. With no land in sight, I feel like a tiny dot on a never-ending canvas. I hang over the deck, looking into the dark water.
I hear his footsteps approaching on the wooden deck. One hand wraps around my hip, skating around my waist to pull me into his chest. He hands me a glass of champagne and kisses my forehead. He has been touching me like this all night.
When they are looking, he makes sure to hold my hand or kiss my cheek. A hand on my back or brushing my shoulder. Every time he touches me, my skin sparks and heats. I hate that I’m starting to like it.
He reaches around and hands me a glass of champagne.
“It’s a done deal,” he whispers in my ear. “Thank you.”
I spin in his arms to look at him. His fingertips push into my back. I shake my head, unsure why he’s thanking me.
“Men like Harold feel like they rule the world when they have a little power. They don’t like to become someone else’s pawn or servant. No amount of money can be enough to put them under another’s rule.”
I glance over his shoulder where Harold dances with Ella. She laughs, throwing her head back. You would never guess the lies she hides under her expensive dress and heavy makeup, or the secrets her husband buries under charm and money.
“Harold would walk away from this deal if I didn’t know that he was having sex with a supposed minor. His own stepdaughter.”
I cringe at the memory of hearing them in the bathroom.
“Now, if I could just learn your secrets,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive skin under my ear.
He can’t ever learn them. I’m now Shiloh Moore, no longer a Blackard. My past needs to stay buried.
“Sir,” Hans calls as he quickly comes toward us. My stomach drops when I see the look on his face. Something is wrong.
Pierce sees it too and pulls away from me. A chill settles over my body. It sinks into my bones, filling me dread. I feel the shift in the air around us.
“Your father is on the phone,” Hans says, handing a phone to Pierce. “Something happened in Vegas.”
Pierce takes the phone and steps a few feet away. I watch as his expression changes. Shock morphs to pain then anger and hate. Sorrow.
He hangs up and turns to face Hans and me. He looks at me, but I don’t think he actually sees me.
“Luca has been killed.”
No.
My stomach drops, falling to the ocean floor. I clench the champagne flute in my hand and glance up at the sky, almost expecting a dreadful black cloud to be rolling over us.
“Tell the captain to turn around. Back to Miami,” he barks as he storms off the deck. “Mother fuckers. Fucking Blackards.”
Glass shatters. I barely register the pain as little shards bite into my palm and champagne drips over my wrist. Hans is at my side already, ushering me away from the glass at my feet and pulling me toward the light.
“You’re bleeding,” he says when he can see my hand. “Come on.”
I hesitate for a second, but Hans tugs my good hand a little harder.
“Leave him be right now,” he hisses. “Trust me.”
I let him lead me inside and downstairs. In the master bedroom, Hans pushes me to sit on the bed and locks the bedroom door. He returns only seconds later with a first-aid kit. Kneeling on the floor in front of me, he looks up and searches my face.
“Damn, he’s right,” he says. “You really do have the most expressive eyes.”
Hans carefully pulls pieces of glass out of my palm while I internally panic.
“Luca was killed in Vegas looking for the dancer Pierce has been searching for,” he tells me. “He will be very upset and you should stay away from him.”
I tilt my head, confused.
“He will be on a warpath. He and Luca were close. Pierce won’t let his death go easily. You don’t want to be caught in the crossfire.”
Silence fills the small room as Hans wipes the cuts on my hand. For once I don’t feel the distaste and hostility rolling off him.
“If you had anything to do with his death, Shiloh, you need to disappear.”
I shake my head frantically. Hans's face is unreadable.
“This just turned into something much more than a fight for territory. You know that, right?”
I nod. The pain and anger that flashed across Pierce’s face promises retribution.
Hans focuses on my hand that shakes in his. I can feel the rumble of the boat engines, revving up to speed back to port.
“I’ve known Pierce for most of my life,” Hans says, methodically wrapping gauze around my palm. “My dad was his dad’s guard. We were raised together.”
He finishes up but doesn’t let go of my hand.
“I protect him from everything,” he says. “Even you, if need be.”
He rises from where he was crouched on the floor. His hard eyes bore into my own, searching. I let him look. I let the fear and worry seep through. I don’t hide my desperation.
He nods as if he found what he was looking for.
“Here’s what is going to happen. Stay in this room. Do not come out until I get you. When we arrive in Miami, things will move quickly. The family will meet and most likely stay together to mourn Luca’s death.”
Hans points to my clothes in the bathroom and my suitcase, silently telling me to pack.
“Pierce will be angry and irrational. After the funeral, there will be blood.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
“Pierce wants to keep you around for some reason. You’re a fascinating little puzzle for him to solve. A game to win. But if you betray him, he will kill you just like any other traitor.”
Hans doesn’t wait for my reaction. I’m glad because I’m not sure what he would see on my face. Fear? Guilt? There’s too many emotions to bury them all.
The next three days fly by. The ride back to the penthouse was tense, and Pierce spoke on the phone for most it. I’m dragged from one place to the next, hustled behind guards and into waiting elevators and cars. Mr. Gallo is waiting for us when we arrive.
I force myself to stay away from Pierce. His eyes are black with loss and hate. Hans watches him carefully, like he’s afraid he will snap any second. The tension is so thick I fear I will drown in it.
Pierce never sheds a tear but that doesn’t surprise me. My father wouldn’t have either. Men of their power and reputation can never show such a weakness. They never let you know when you’ve made them bleed.
But I see Pierce bleeding. It’s not in the form of tears or crimson red drops. It’s in the way his eyes close, trying to block out the reality that someone he loved is really gone. It’s in
the way he pounds his fist into the table when his anger resurfaces. I see him bleed with harsh words and curses.
When it’s late and I think everyone is asleep, I sneak out of my room. I see the suspicion and distrust when Mr. Gallo looks at me, so I stay scarce as Hans suggested.
I head to the kitchen where I fill a glass of wine to take the edge off. The funeral will be tomorrow. Funerals are depressing but it’s afterward that I fear. Pierce will retaliate against my family. He blames them, and I might too.
Mostly I blame myself. I intervened that night at the club. I left Pierce with the mysterious dancer. I am keeping that I saved him a secret. Because of all this, he sent his cousin into my territory to look for her.
Trying to tiptoe back to my room, I see a shadow on the patio. I pause in the shadows, realizing it’s Pierce. He sits on the floor, leaning his back against the windows. He looks so defeated.
Knowing I was told to stay away, I turn back to the kitchen and grab the whole bottle of wine and another glass. When I slide the glass door open, Pierce doesn’t even look up. I hand him the glass of wine before sitting and pouring another for myself. Silently, we sip on our glasses and watch the traffic down below. Our shoulders touch and our hands brush each other’s.
This is the first time I’m grateful for my inability to speak. I don’t have words of comfort or wisdom to offer him. He doesn’t look to me to say them either. The pressure to ease whatever haunts him isn’t weighing on me.
Alexithymia (n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally.
There’s a slight chill to the air even though the day was hot and humid. The sky is clear above us but the stars are dim from the city light stealing all the light. On the island, the stars pollute the sky.
When our glasses are empty, Pierce takes a drink straight from the bottle, and I do the same when he passes it to me. We share the wine in a comfortable silence. I feel the sorrow that hanging over us slowly start to thin. It doesn’t disappear, but it’s as if my presence alone makes it bearable.
“I’m no stranger to death,” Pierce says. His voice is raspy and low. “Death is just the last stage of life.”
Morbid but true. I tilt my head toward him to take in his profile. His eyes are lidded, scruff lines his strong jaw. Despite his words, this death is hurting him. He doesn’t understand it. He rolls his head to the side, finding my eyes. Our faces are only inches apart, and I smell the sweet wine on his breath.
“Luca was acting on my orders, and I got him killed.”
I open my mouth, snapping it shut, and shake my head instead. It’s not his fault. It’s mine.
We stare at each other, and I feel the air thicken. It’s no longer chilly on the balcony. The sexual tension had been growing between us and ended abruptly with the news of Luca’s death.
It’s now simmering beneath the surface, ready to boil over. My eyes fall closed, keeping the hurt, fear, and lust that swirls in them.
“It’s too dark to read your mind,” he whispers.
I put the bottle to my lips, taking another mouthful of wine. I’m okay hiding in the dark tonight.
“I sent him to go for look for someone who doesn’t want to be found. I sent him to look for a girl I thought saved my life.”
I hand him the wine and he takes a drink.
“I promised her anything she wanted if she helped me. I was trying to be a man of my word.”
The bottle gets passed back to me. I grab it, taking Pierce’s hand in my empty one. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t.
“Do you believe in Karma?” he asks, rolling his head to the side to look at me.
Do I? It’s a great concept. I would like to think that for all the good you do, there is compensation. But that would mean for all the bad you do, something bad happens to you in turn.
I shake my head no. I have seen enough men get rich on crime and violence. They don’t always pay for their sins.
“No?” Pierce is quiet for a moment. He didn’t expect that answer. “If I didn’t believe either, I could let go of the dancer I search for. I wouldn’t believe that Luca’s death is my Karma for my crimes.”
I look at him. His eyes are glassy as they stare up at the sky.
“But then I wouldn’t have the small piece of relief that I get when I realize whoever did this to Luca has theirs coming too.”
I, too, believe that they have their payback coming. It isn’t because I believe in Karma though. I believe in Pierce and that he is a man of his word. He will find out who pulled that trigger and burn them.
chapter seventeen
shiloh
HANS COMES TO my room the morning of the funeral. He has a black dress hanging on a hanger. In his other hand is a pair of black heels and a pearl necklace. He places them on the bed where I sit.
“For the funeral.” He sees the surprise on my face. I didn’t think they would take me.
“You will stay by his side. You do well playing the doting girlfriend.”
I’ve never been to a funeral before. I have no experience in events people attend. I’ve only been to one wedding before I ran away, when my sister married into the Walsh family.
“Get ready.”
Hans leaves me and I change into the dress. As I expected, it fits me perfectly. After I curl my hair and apply makeup, I put on the pearl necklace. Gently, I run my fingers over the beads. My reflection stares back at me. She is free of the bruises she arrived in. Her skin is lightly tanned from the tropical sunshine. She looks mature and strong. I just wish I felt that way on the inside.
I find Hans in the kitchen where he hands me a banana. The small staff has been sent home, but he has been making sure I eat. Pierce and his father are sitting in the living room, glasses of liquor in their hands already.
The men are quiet, lost in their own sorrow and guilt. The air feels too heavy to breathe. Part of me wants to run and the other half wants to take the pain away.
Yonderly (adj.) mentally or emotionally distant; absentminded
Pierce meets my eyes, and I see what could be relief. He shaved this morning so the light scruff from last night is gone. His black suit clings to his body perfectly, showing the tension in his shoulders.
Soon, we are in a limo weaving through the city. I don’t bother looking out the windows. This city is tainted with sadness now. We pull up in front of a beautiful church. The bells ring from the tall tower.
My heels echo as I step inside. Large stained-glass windows line the stone walls. A casket sits up at the front where the priest waits. My heart pounds in my chest.
“Stay close,” Hans whispers in my ear as we follow closely behind Pierce and his father. “Families from all over will attend. Even ones that we don’t care for.”
Pierce and his father take a moment to talk with the priest. Hans gently cups my elbow, guiding me to wait for them a few feet away. Their whispers echo off the cold walls. The smell of roses fill the room.
The men go silent as the doors swing open and heels click down the aisle. Dark, long hair trails behind her as she approaches Pierce and his father.
“That’s Maria, Luca’s older sister. She never agreed with the family business or Luca’s involvement in it,” Hans whispers in my ear.
She looks like Luca with dark eyes and dark hair. I see blame and anger in her eyes as she glares at the two powerful men. She lightly runs her fingers over the casket lid, her shoulders shaking with tears.
“She and Luca were raised by Mr. Gallo after their parents went to prison when they were just toddlers.”
I nod, grateful for the small piece of info but wanting more. Hans usually ignores me or gives me orders. I don’t want to push and scare him off. He’s skittish like that.
People start to arrive and pay their respects to Pierce and his father before they take a seat. Two lines form: one for Maria and the other for Pierce and Mr. Gallo.
I remain invisible as more people arrive and the room starts to fill. It doesn’t take a genius to know most
of these people are like my dad. Like Pierce and his father. Expensive watches, big diamonds, and paid bodyguards. Even a few cops shake hands with Mr. Gallo and Pierce.
I wait with Hans while guests take their turns hugging everyone and whispering words of regret. I offer a sad smile if anyone looks at me but mostly I am not seen. Except when a familiar set of blue eyes connect with mine. I gasp, startled by my own sound. Hans stiffens and tugs me closer, unsure where the threat is.
Cyrus stands in the back of the church, noticing me at the same time. Surprise, relief, and anger flash across his face. He takes a step toward me, but I shake my head once. I can’t be seen talking to him here. For a long minute, I think he is going to come to me anyway, but he finally takes a step back. I see the frustration in his face as he looks around the room and realizes he has no backup here. I take a deep breath when he pulls his stare away from me.
He’s a fool for coming today. Pierce and his family would love to bury him. Luca’s blood is on Blackard hands.
As my dad’s right-hand man, they would blame him too. It’s a bold and suicidal move to show up here without expecting retaliation.
Did he come here for me? Will he think I am being held against my will? Will he take me home? All these questions swirl in my head, making me dizzy. I sway on my feet, but Hans holds me steady.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod quickly. Too quickly. My head probably looks like a bobble head with the rate I’m moving it up and down, panicking. He looks down at me in concern, but I shake my head, brushing him off.
I look back at Cyrus as he stares at me. He’s so familiar but also intruding. Cyrus has always been a safe place for me, but today he is danger.
Danger to my freedom.
The room gets quiet as the priest steps forward to speak. Hans leads me to the front pew. Pierce sits next to me, his fists clenched on his thighs. His body is rigid and stiff. I twist so my leg presses against his. It’s a subtle move to let him know I’m here.
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