He stared at it for a moment before clasping it tightly in his own. I jerked him forward roughly so he stumbled hard into my chest. Pain seared through me but I wanted my pale gaze–– decidedly un-Morelli––to be the only thing he could see when I said, “Prove to me there’s more to being brothers than blood.”
3
BIANCA
Most people spend their entire lives wishing for their dreams to come true, but no one ever wonders what will happen once they do. When we’ve reached our goal or achieved our happily-ever-after. Was everything you went through to get there worth it? Does it last?
Was it everything you thought it would be?
I’d dreamt my whole of being enfolded into the heart of the Constantine clan, but the reality was incredibly sobering.
I was heartbroken, lost, and alone in the rambling mansion taking up acres of prime, perfectly groomed real estate in Bishop’s Landing. What was left of my heart after Tiernan Morelli broke my trust remained back at Lion Court with my baby brother, Brandon.
I’d never, not once in my life, been separated from him before now.
It was day eight without him.
Caroline assured me her lawyers were working on transferring custodianship of Brando and myself to her, but even her cutthroat, hundreds-of-dollars-an-hour lawyers couldn’t strike a compromise with Tiernan.
Caroline seemed almost disturbingly unfazed by the proceedings, but I grew more distressed by the hour.
How could I trust Tiernan to take care of the most precious being in my life? Even though we’d lived there for months, long enough for the entire household to know how to handle Brandon’s epilepsy, I worried endlessly. I’d started to pick at my hangnails until they bled, which Caroline told me was a filthy habit, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
The only thing that kept me from panicking was that Walcott was keeping me up-to-date on Brando over the phone. Apparently, they’d lied and told my baby brother that I was away on a last-minute holiday so he wasn’t even concerned about me, thank God. I wanted to stay happy and oblivious until I could get everything sorted out for us to be together again.
The Compound was disturbingly empty even though Christmas was fast approaching and Caroline told me most of the kids would be home for the holidays. I was both excited and sick to my stomach at the thought of meeting them.
In my fantasies, Brandon was with me, and they knew exactly who we were to them.
Now, I was alone, and Caroline told everyone she introduced me to that I was a ‘friend of the family.’ I should have been honored to be taken in by the matriarch of one of the most beautiful and formidable families in the country, but there was something…off about her. A coldness that nothing could permeate. If I hadn’t clasped her hand and felt the warmth of blood in her veins, I would have believed she was a beautiful robot.
It was clear, she expected the same behavior from me.
I adjusted uncomfortably in the high-backed wooden chair at the colossal dining room table. Caroline had given me some of her daughter Tinsley’s old clothes and they were too tight across the bust and hips, cutting into my skin in a way that made me feel self-conscious. Clearly, I had gotten my exaggerated curves from Aida’s blood and not Lane’s, because every Constantine I saw in the professional family photos on the walls and in the tabloids was willowy and graceful.
“Stop fidgeting, Bianca,” Caroline admonished mildly as she took a sip of white wine, staring at me over the glass. “It’s unbecoming on a beautiful young woman like yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, wincing slightly as the engraved wood dug into my spine. “It’s a hard habit to break.”
“A lifetime of bad habits will take a concentrated effort to fix,” she agreed. “We have our work cut out for us.”
I wasn’t usually an ungrateful woman. Lord knew, in my seventeen years, I didn’t have much to be grateful for, but what I did, I cherished with every breath. So, I knew I shouldn’t give voice to the lingering suspicion stalking my thoughts, but I’d never been much for impulse control.
“Our work cut out for us towards what end?” I asked, swirling my spoon through the bright red soup in the thousand-dollar China. “I’m so grateful for your help, Caroline, but what is it you…expect from me if I stay here?”
She studied me in that way she had. A cool, almost-reptilian regard. Idly, I wondered if she played poker, because she’d be a shoe-in for success with that unreadable expression.
“Well, I suppose it would be the same things I expect from all my children,” she mused lightly. I watched one long, elegant finger laden with diamonds run circles over the rim of her wineglass. “Decorum, work ethic, and success, perhaps. If you stay here, Bianca, I want you to thrive. I want you to go to the best college and make a name for yourself. If you are connected to this family, you must do right by us.”