I’ve never heard my uncle swear like this. Never heard these terms come out of his mouth. Has the power of stepping into my father’s shoes, albeit temporarily, gone to his head? Or is the stress of trying to balance this shitstorm on his shoulders just forcing him to crack under the pressure?
“Hate to break it to you, but the engagement’s off. I’m not getting married.”
“Not to Joshua Grayson. To Nathan.”
I’ve been disconnected, floating on a high and then getting pummeled into the ground by trauma and fear. Enzo’s words bring me back to earth with a bone-crushing impact. Nathan feels it, too. I can tell by the way he gapes at me, stunned. Horrified.
“What?” I can’t believe he’s saying this. I can’t believe he’s saying this like it’s completely reasonable.
Enzo clears his throat, straightens up. Just like he has in a thousand meetings before. For a thousand deals. This one’s different, though.
“The marriage would be purely for show, of course. The purpose would be to salvage your reputation. To pacify the shareholders. And to tide the board over until you can earn their respect back.”
No, I want to say. Not a fucking chance.
“That’s not happening,” Nathan spits. “I’m in love with someone else.”
I meet Nathan’s stricken gaze before returning my eyes to stone-faced Enzo. “He’s my cousin. That’s incest.”
Enzo has turned himself into a human steamroller. Nathan’s complaint goes down without so much as a whisper, crushed along with my objection. “He’s your adopted cousin. You are not blood related. There’s nothing illegal or incestuous about it. In case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t even meet him until you were twelve years old.”
He says it with such certainty and confidence that it pins me to my seat. Nathan opens his mouth, then shuts it again.
“And there is the matter of Rome Montague.” Enzo looks me in the eye. “Let me be perfectly clear, Avery. You will do what I say. If I tell you to fucking jump, you’ll say off which building, dear uncle? I’ll do whatever it takes—and I mean anything—to ensure that you never see Rome Montague again. And if you defy me, I’ll make sure that little punk is thrown back into maximum security for the rest of his pathetic life.”
Nathan gets up from the windowsill and storms out. He can’t slam the door after him because they’re specially designed to close quietly, so his exit is marked by a hushed click. To me, it sounds like a thunder crash in the distance. Deep. Booming. Final.
“It’s for your own good,” Enzo says. “One day, you’ll thank me for this.”
I look across the desk at my favorite uncle, who stares back at me as blankly as if I were a temp who’d messed up a financial report. A shudder goes through me, cold and strong.
Can you trust him? A little voice in the back of my head says. All my life, I’d have said yes. Yes without a moment’s hesitation. Uncle Enzo? Of course I can trust him. I could trust him with my life.
Can you? It asks again.
And this time, I don’t know.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AVERY
There’s no time to sit around and wait for life to keep swinging. There’s no time for inaction.
No time at all.
If Enzo’s big plan is for me to marry Nathan, then things have gone seriously off-track. At the conclusion of our meeting, which ends with Enzo looking back down at his paperwork as casually as if we’ve just been talking about the fucking weather, I grab my purse - now gun-less - and get all the way to the employee garage before I remember that I don’t have a car. Mine is still at home, where it’s been since before I was kidnapped. Usually I’d have a designated driver in lieu of my own vehicle, but that didn’t happen today, did it? No. Because today, I was being driven around by Nathan, then Detective McRae, before finally bribing a priest to borrow his car. And where is that car, now? I can only hope Elliot had the forethought to somehow return it to the church in one piece.
As far as days go, this one’s been long. I’m exhausted, and angry, but the rage Enzo has lit inside me keeps me going. I wonder if he knows how much I wanted to leap across his desk and slash his throat with his goddamned letter-opener.
It doesn’t take long for me to call up to reception to arrange a chauffeur-driven car. Five minutes later, I stew inside a cream leather interior as I let the air conditioning in the brand-new Mercedes cool what feels like a raging fever. When my ride pulls up in front of the Capulet mansion and I step onto the paved circular driveway, I’m steady, if not a little shaken.
There’s no time to be shaken.
This is my house. It’s time to reclaim it. These people need to get the fuck out of my space before this twisted game goes any further.
I go in through the massive front doors. The clean scent in the foyer still smells strange. I wish it would smell normal again, but maybe that’s one of the things I lost in that dungeon. Halfway up the stairs to my bedroom, the sound of voices filters up from the kitchen.
Enzo.
He beat me here.
How?
It doesn’t matter.
I stomp back down, making my footfalls heavy, like a petulant child. Let them think I am one. I don’t care. Enzo stands by the sink, the light from the window crowning his head like a halo. My aunt sips a cup of tea in the corner, oblivious.
“Pack your shit and leave.”
I drop the command on the kitchen island, right where our cook used to prepare all the meals I remember from my childhood.
Enzo smirks. “I don’t think so.”
“I do. This is my house. It’s time for you to go.”
My aunt blinks at me. “Avery, I’m not sure that’s the best idea, for—for you to be alone.”
Nathan sidles into the room from the opposite direction. He chooses a spot part-way between his parents and me.
“It’s a better idea than your husband’s proposal.”
“His proposal?” Her eyes flick between me and Enzo. “The only proposal I know of is that we stay close to keep you safe.”
“He wants to be even closer than that.” A rush of righteous anger sparks along my veins and fizzles out. I grab onto the remnants and hang on hard. “He didn’t tell you? He’s planning a wedding. Aren’t you, Uncle Enzo? He wants me to marry your son.”
My aunt’s face goes blank, then to shock, then to disgust. “Jesus, Enzo.” She bows her head over her tea, shaking her head. “Is she telling the truth?”
“Unfortunately, she is,” Nathan interjects. “Father thinks it’ll end the PR nightmare Avery has attracted.”
“What are you thinking?” Eliza snaps. “You want our son to marry his cousin? That’s in-”
“Not incest,” Enzo cuts her off sharply. “He’s adopted, remember?”
Eliza’s shock turns to an ice-cold disdain. “Of course. How could I forget my inability to give you a biological child.” Her eyes are ablaze, her tight grip around the teacup almost enough to shatter it.
“The old man’s losing his mind,” Nathan says sombrely.
“I am the only one who’s thinking clearly here,” Enzo shouts. “I’m the only one who is thinking at all about the bigger picture of our family. You could bring it all down around you, Avery, if you really need to be a selfish bitch–”
Smack! I’ve never heard a louder slap than when my aunt hits Uncle Enzo, square across the cheek.
Nathan sucks in a breath. I stop breathing. Enzo puts a hand to his face, startled. Eliza’s not even the type to raise her voice. And here she is, slapping Enzo for me. What kind of upside-down world are we living in?
My aunt sets her tea carefully down on the counter, then heads for the guest bedroom.
“Let’s get our things, Enzo.”
He looks like he wants to argue. His face goes red, then redder, her handprint standing out starkly. His mouth opens, closes. He glares at me like he wants to strangle me with his bare hands. “You,” he seethes.
“That’s eno
ugh, Dad,” Nathan says quietly. “Just go.”
Enzo finally leaves, taking the long path through the living room so he doesn’t have to brush by me.
Nathan whistles, long and low, and it breaks the remaining tension in the room. He steps to where I’m standing and throws his arms around me. In a way, it brings me back down to earth. Not like when Rome did it earlier. There’s no way it will ever be like that. Not with Nathan. It makes me sick to think about that. But at least Nathan smells familiar. The soap scent of his skin is the same way it’s always been, for as long as I’ve known him.
He detaches himself from me and looks into my eyes. “That was fucked. I can’t believe he went there. And for the record, I had no idea he was thinking of that. He’s lost his mind.”
“Capulet men will do whatever it takes to save the company.” It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but I’m used to it. I’ve swallowed it a hundred times by now.
Nathan sticks his hands in his pockets. “It’s not up to him. I think it’s up to you. And really, Aves, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I promise.”
“What does that even mean?” I drop into one of the stools at the bar and pull my purse into my lap. They took my gun, so it’s not as comforting as it has been. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“If you decided that marrying me was the only way to save the company, I’d do it for you.” Nathan takes a deep breath and pushes a hand through mussed hair. All my blood has turned to ice. Acid made of ice. How could he be saying this? Why? “I don’t want to, but I’d do it for you. For the family. For the goddamn company. Because as insane as my father is, he’s right. On paper,” he continues, and it’s even more horrifying with every even-handed word out of his mouth. “On paper the marriage would look good for the company. The shareholders would stop being raging assholes.” He presses his lips together tight, then forges on. “The criminal organizations wouldn’t move against us, like they would if you’d married someone like Montague. And you and I would both know it wasn’t real.”
The truth struggles to get free and this time I can’t stop it. Nathan doesn’t want this—I can see that in his eyes. But the fact that he’s willing to do it rattles me. It makes my chest ache. I put a hand over my heart, fresh tears clouding my vision.
“I really love him, Nate.”
Nathan’s eyes go wide at my broken whisper, and I hate that I sound so fucking weak.
“Montague.” He frames it as a statement, not a question, because he already knows.
I nod. “I think I always have. I’ll never marry anyone else for some business arrangement. Not after I almost died. Not after what happened to me. Life is too fucking short to keep doing things for everyone else. I’m tired of being the family pawn. Aren’t you?”
Nathan looks at the floor, his hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s different for me,” he says, his voice heavy. “I wasn’t born into this. The life I was born into… the life I was saved from by becoming a Capulet… my father never lets me forget for long that he could just as easily throw me away again.”
“He wouldn’t throw you away,” I say, horrified at the thought. “He loves you. He’s being an asshole, but you’re his whole world, Nathan.”
Nathan smiles sadly. “I wish I could believe that the way you do,” he says. “But the simple fact is, this family is only my home if I play by the rules. You might not be my cousin by blood, but you’re still the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to marry you. All I’m saying is, I’ll do what I have to do for you. For the family.”
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, too,” I reply. “I wouldn’t have survived losing Adeline if you weren’t here. I would never abandon you, even if everybody else does.”
He gives a slow nod, the weight seeming to lift from his shoulders. “I’m going to go, Aves. You gave us our eviction order pretty clearly. You keep in touch, okay?” He’s already moving, already going.
“Wait.”
Nate stops at the kitchen door, shoulders going back up an inch. I wanted them out, yes. Of course I did. The reality of watching Nate leave feels much different than the decision I made in the car on the way over. He’s been my one constant since my sister died.
My throat goes tight. The XO killer stole more from me than my security and safety. He also stole time. Nate and I are always going to have that missing hollow in our relationship where our paths diverged so violently.
“What is it, Aves?”
“The girl you’re in love with.” It hurts to say this, and not because I wanted to marry him. “It’s Jennifer, isn’t it?”
A smile breaks over his face, lighting up his eyes. “Yeah, it is. I’ve been seeing her for a long time.” Nate’s smile falters and falls. “I was so obsessed with her at your birthday party that I didn’t know anything had happened until it was too late.” He puts a hand over his mouth and seems to steady himself. “If I’d been paying closer attention—”
I run forward and throw my arms around him. It takes me back to before any of this happened, to the truth that lived in my heart then. “You’re the only person in this family I trust,” I murmur into Nate’s shirt.
He lets out a rueful laugh. “And I’m not even a real Capulet.”
Nate presses a kiss to my forehead, and then he’s gone. Ten minutes later, the front door closes behind Nathan and his parents and I’m left alone, the only beating heart in this godforsaken building. The Capulet mansion settles into an eerie silence around me. Can it feel me here? Does it know my father is missing?
I can’t stay here.
I take the stairs two at a time to my bedroom, into the walk-in closet where I modeled that dress for Nathan a million years ago, and pull down a travel suitcase from the top of one shelf. It’s something the old Avery would have ironically delighted in. Sleek and rose gold and meant for a businesswoman on vacation. I barely pay attention to what I’m throwing inside. Clothes. Underwear. A toothbrush. Toiletries. Hopefully enough to last me.
The lights in my dad’s garage take a minute to warm up. I don’t need that full minute. I already have the keys to the vehicle I want. The other cars sit in a neat row, silent carriers. Waiting.
I toss my suitcase into the backseat and climb behind the wheel of the second car in—a Mercedes AMG C63.
My father’s off-roading SUV.
It’s time to go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
AVERY
Renal failure.
It sounds like something terrible, and it is. As I stand outside my father’s hospital room–the one place I’ve been avoiding above all others–the doctor rattles off a series of problems my dad is having that are only getting worse.
“We’re still waiting to see if any of you are a potential match for a kidney transplant,” the doctor says. I look past the doctor, into my father’s private room, a sense of dread growing rapidly in my stomach.
“How long does he have before he needs the transplant?” I ask, my throat tight.
“It’s a matter of weeks,” the doctor says gently. “But we should have the donor results in the next day or so.”
I thank the doctor, letting her continue her rounds as I step toward the double sliding doors that are separating me from my comatose father. I want to run the other way. It takes every ounce of bravery I possess to press myself forward and propel myself through the opening doors.
My father’s hospital room feels like a chapel. Better than a morgue, I suppose, but not by much. It’s as cold as a goddamn morgue in here, and not much noisier. It’s deathly quiet, except for the muted beeping of the machines keeping him alive. An eerie hush descends as the automatic door slides closed behind me, blocking out the regular noises of the hospital’s critical care unit. I wonder how much it costs to be housed in a soundproof room like this. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine I was at the cemetery, about to make my confession. The illusion is completed by the fact that the same priest whose car I borrowed is here, too.
He sits on the side of the bed, next to my father, head bowed in prayer. I lock eyes on my father first, noticing the tubes and wires going from his face and chest into the different machines hovering around his bed. Machines that help him breathe, machines that measure his blood pressure and heart rate. The thick tube taped to his face, the one snaking down his throat, has to be painful. I can only hope that he’s sedated enough to not feel it. I tear my eyes away from my father, the sight of him almost too much to bear. I’ve been a coward, waiting this long to visit him. True, my family blocked me from coming here at first, but I hardly fought them, did I? I was so mixed up in my own darkness and survival after waking up in the hospital that pushing to see my father seemed impossibly hard. Because I didn’t want to see him like this, the opposite of his usual self.
Augustus Capulet is meant to be strong, and powerful, and a leader. The man lying before me is none of those things, at least not right now.
I can only pray that he recovers.
Speaking of prayer. The priest is still in the middle of his, and now that I look closer, I notice the chain of red and black rosary beads dangling from his palm. I have no idea what he’s praying. Out here in public he wears black slacks and a black shirt with a white clerical collar, no sign of the cassock he was wearing earlier. The man doesn’t look up at me or indicate that he knows I’m here in any way.
It’s kind of a relief, getting a minute to let my heart rate slow after the mad dash from my house. It gives me a moment to slow down and think about where I’m headed after I walk out of this hospital room. Somewhere far, far away from here, that’s for damn sure. I am certain leaving the city is breaking the terms of my bail, but guess what? I’m doing it anyway. Fuck this place. Verona Heights and the larger city of San Francisco are full of people I don’t know if I can trust or not. Even my own family is dubious. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Enzo had my bail revoked to lock me up somewhere he can keep tabs on me 24/7 until he’s managed to wear me and everyone else down. I keep waiting for someone to tackle me here in the hospital.
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