The Mafia princess left my estate on her father's arm, dressed in a pale pink fairy dress and ballet flats. For a girl, she was tall, and I preferred shorter women I could tuck under my arm. She made me promise to have dinner with her family. Despite my reservations, I agreed, though I was hoping my dad would never force a merger between our families.
I said goodbye to the last of our guests. The Knights spread throughout the room, drinking and talking amongst themselves. All night, I wasn’t in the mood for people. Well, I was never really in the mood to entertain, or talk… or do anything social. I liked to be alone and preferred to work far away from home.
I stood by the bar, drink in hand, and observed Rhi. She chatted with Sonny, forcing a smile as she gave Cillian Cormac a nasty look from across the room.
Maybe Luca was right.
Cillian was Sonny's uncle on his father's side and had no relation to Rhi. He was in his early fifties with two sons who had attended Astor Prep at the same time as her. Sonny's mother was an O'Shea before she married into the Cormac family. The Devil's Creek elite once shunned the only sister of the Irish Mob boss. Savanna was an outcast, despite having married into one of the most powerful families in the country.
It had taken years for people to accept Sonny's mom. But Rhi didn't have a chance in hell, not unless she followed in her aunt's footsteps.
Rhiannon's gaze swept across the room and landed on me.
Cillian gazed at her body like he owned every inch of her inked skin. When she noticed my eyes wander between them, she turned her head away. Rhi was never good at keeping secrets from me. I could usually read the lie right on her lips.
My dad is right.
She's fucking that pig.
Our eyes met again, and I shook my head in disapproval. She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, then glanced down at the floor as if she were ashamed.
I was an idiot for following her upstairs. Now she was on my father’s radar, which was never a good thing. That girl fucked with my head and made me do stupid shit. Around Rhi, I was reckless and out of control, two things I couldn't afford to be when my family was at war.
Cillian raised his arm and tapped the face of his watch. They were meeting, and I had every intention to follow her.
Chapter Five
Rhiannon
Heart clambering in my chest, I stuffed the gun I stole from my father into my bag. I stared into the mirror above the dresser and fixed my hair. It was still curled and styled for the masquerade party, with only a few errant curls falling from the pins. I swapped out the fairy costume for a pair of skinny jeans and a black halter. Just in case Cillian tried to take advantage before I shot his ass, I wanted him to have one hell of a time taking these clothes off me.
I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. I never thought I would turn into my father, but Cillian left me no choice. My family specialized in violence and destruction. I learned from an early age that if you wanted something, you had to take it. And I wanted my freedom from Cillian Cormac.
After all of this was over, I planned to tell Marcello the truth. I wanted him to know all of my sick, twisted parts because I knew he would welcome my darkness. He lived there, with his demons and ghosts that tortured him, haunted by all the horrible things he had done in the name of his family. If anyone would understand my choices, it was Marcello.
At least killing Cillian would serve its purpose. I had never been free, not a single day in my life. Powerful men controlled every second of my existence, and I was sick of being under their thumbs.
I took one last look in the mirror before opening my bedroom door. When we got home from the Salvatore Estate, my father went into his study with his closest men, armed guards, who had worked for him for decades. They were already drunk, which made it easy to grab a gun from his office. Not like he would notice when he had enough weapons to start an armory.
My dad would never approve of me meeting with Cillian this late at night. Well, he wouldn’t have approved of me sneaking out to see any man. After a rival family kidnapped and murdered my mother, men guarded our house twenty-four hours a day. Thankfully, I didn’t have a personal guard.
I stepped into the hallway and slid my back against the wall, inching my way toward the stairs. The camera in the corner slowly turned, and I waited for it to move to the left. The security team checked the cameras regularly. They would alert my dad if they saw me on the feed.