Cruel Saints

A knock at my door has my head snapping up. I scramble off the bed and go to open it. I’m surprised to see Aunt Ursula.

“It’s time for breakfast. Come join me on the veranda,” she says, and then she walks away.

I step out of the room, and shutting the door behind me, I follow after Aunt Ursula.

Crap, I should’ve changed out of Lucian’s shirt. I pull an awkward face as we walk through the house and then out two massive sliding doors that have been pushed open. Stepping out onto the veranda, my lips part as I take in the backyard.

The lawn is perfectly manicured and in total contrast with the black mansion. I realize why Lucian also gravitated to the secret garden.

There’s a huge fountain in the middle of the yard, easily the size of a swimming pool. Different levels of water shoot into the sky only to gracefully fall back to the pool.

Trees are scattered around the property, offering plenty of shade, and flower beds provide a rainbow of colors. In the distance, I can see the ocean.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aunt Ursula asks.

“Yes,” I breathe, still awestruck.

“Morning,” I hear Lucian say behind us, and when I spin around, he’s taking a seat at the table where three plates are waiting.

He’s dressed in an immaculate suit again, and for a moment, it feels as if last night was just a dream.

Maybe it was.

Then he glances at me, and the anger etched on his face assures me it was definitely not a dream.

“Let’s eat,” Aunt Ursula says.

I take a seat at the table and look down at the bowl of muesli, fruits, and yogurt. Picking up a spoon, I scoop some up and take the bite even though I’m not hungry.

We eat in silence, and then Aunt Ursula asks, “How did you sleep, cara?”

I lift my eyes to her and force a smile around my lips. “Good, thank you.”

I feel Lucian’s gaze on me and focus on my breakfast.

A moment later, he says, “I have a meeting this morning.”

“Here?” Aunt Ursula asks.

“Yes. When I’m done, will you come with me to the morgue?”

I swallow hard on the bite I just took.

“Of course,” she answers, sorrow shimmering in the two words.

The rest of the meal proceeds in uncomfortable silence, and when we’re finally done, I excuse myself from the table.

When I start to walk away, Lucian says, “You need to attend the meeting. It’s at nine.”

I stop, and glancing over my shoulder, I nod. “I’ll be ready.” I hurry to my room, and not knowing what to wear, I dig through all my clothes. It takes me twenty minutes to decide on black pants and a blouse.

It will match the house.

The thought makes my lips curve up as I change into the clothes. I take extra care with my makeup and style my hair in a loose French braid. Slipping on a pair of high heels, I walk to the full-length mirror in the bathroom.

I take in my appearance, and satisfied, I leave the room. I have no idea what to expect, and when I walk down the stairs, and the living room comes into view, my eyes widen at all the men gathered there for the meeting.

I recognize Alexei, Demitri, and Carson but none of the others. As my gaze sweeps over everyone, it stops when I spot Lucian. He turns, and the moment he sees me, the grim expression fades from his face, and then his lips part.

It’s only for a moment, then he walks toward me. When he holds out his hand to me, I take the last couple of steps and rest my palm against his.

He leans into me, murmuring, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. “Who are all these men?”

“Allies.”

Franco comes toward us and informs Lucian, “Mr. Lucas just arrived.”

My head snaps up. “My father’s here?”

“Yes,” Lucian mutters, and then he pulls me away from the stairs. I stand next to Lucian, not knowing what to expect.

The moment my father walks into the living room with Dante right behind him, it feels like my chest is going to close up.

Lucian pulls a gun from behind his back, where it was hidden beneath his jacket, and trains the barrel on Dante.

My heart instantly begins to race, and I hold my breath.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” my father demands.

“Killing this piece of shit,” Lucian growls low.

My father steps in front of Dante, leveling a dark glare on Lucian. “Then it will be war between us. Are you sure that’s how you want to start your reign as head of the Mafia?”

The air slowly leaves my lungs as Lucian lowers the gun. Instead of killing Dante like he said he would, he barks, “Capone, get out of my house.”

No.

I yank my hand from his and lift it to my racing heart.