11. Juliette
ONE YEAR LATER
W earing a blue evening dress that fell softly around my body, I headed toward the booked room where everyone agreed to meet. My heels clicked against the marble floor, drawing glances my way.
I ignored them all, entering the room, decorated with lights and glittering balloons floating against the ceiling.
It was a kickoff party to Emory’s birthday celebration tomorrow at her home outside Las Vegas.
It made no sense to me to have a party at the Bellagio hotel the day before her actual birthday party, but a party was a party. So, here I was.
Spotting Ivy’s signature red hair and Wynter standing beside her, I walked over to them. Ivy’s eyes landed on me and a wide smile spread over her face, her hazel eyes instantly lighting up.
“Finally!” Wynter muttered. My dear cousin had become less and less inclined to attend any of the events taking place this weekend. “I thought you weren’t going to show up until tomorrow for Christ’s sake. How long does it take you to get ready?”
I ignored her comment. Her meek personality was replaced by a cranky one when she got knocked up.
“Where is your husband?” I asked instead. It was rare to see one without the other. Like they were joined at the fucking hip. It was annoying as fuck.
“He’s talking to Dante.”
“They look to be in deep discussion,” Ivy said, rolling her eyes. “All the DiLustros.”
I followed Ivy’s gaze and found all four of them—Dante, Basilio, Emory, and Priest—discussing something, their faces serious and their heads close together.
Well, except for Emory. She looked like a little kid playing with the big boys.
I still couldn’t get over the fact she ran the Las Vegas crime world for the Syndicate.
The girl was barely five foot four, yet I knew her looks were deceiving.
She was just as lethal as her brother and cousins.
“They’re probably up to no good,” I noted. “None of the DiLustros are ever up to any good. Especially Dante.”
Then as if he heard me mention his name, his gaze drifted over the large room and makeshift dance floor and caught mine. His eyes sparked and burned as if igniting a fire. They slid down my body and goose bumps rose over my skin.
It was exactly for this reason I couldn’t bear to be around this man. I fucking hated this damn reaction my body had to him. No matter how hard I tried to steel my response to him, it always failed.
“God, I can’t stand him,” I murmured.
“Then stop staring at him,” Wynter deadpanned. “I swear, this game of cat and mouse is getting old.”
“Not if I’m the cat,” I said, amused, turning my back to Dante. Yet, it did nothing to ease the burn of his stare. He might as well have been right in front of me.
I noted my father approaching with Davina, both of them smiling softly.
“You look beautiful, Juliette.” He pulled me into a tight hug. “Your mom would be so proud. You’re the spitting image of her.”
It was only since I learned of my birth parents that he dropped comments like this.
I appreciated it, but it was also a reminder to myself.
That I’d make those responsible pay. My body count kept growing, but I wasn’t finished yet.
It started with Brandon Dole. After him, I’d moved on to Sam Dallas, the second boy who did nothing.
Travis fucking Xander was untouchable—hiding behind his parents’ walls—so I’d moved on to my parents’ killers.
I didn’t have all their names. Only six.
Killian had put four into early graves. I had done the same with two, unbeknownst to him.
Four more were left, and they would pay for their sins. Sofia Volkov included. But she’d get hers, I would make sure of it.
What goes around comes around, and all that .
Liam had hidden us from the world. Juliette Ava Cullen was my birth name, and he’d changed it to Juliette Brennan. He couldn’t bear to erase all traces of me. But I’d be damned if I stayed silent. They’d learn you never fucked with a Cullen.
“Thanks, Dad.”
I still loved Liam. He raised me and he was a good dad. I sighed happily as I soaked up his strength and love.
“You know, your mom gave your dad a hard time too,” he said casually. “Although they settled their differences a lot sooner.” His insinuation didn’t escape me, but I chose to ignore it.
“You’re a lot like her,” Killian added, showing up out of nowhere.
Guilt pierced through my chest because what little I knew about her, I was nothing like her.
She never killed. She never tortured. And she certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed either one.
In the deepest corner of myself, I actually liked making these men pay for what they’d done—to me, to my parents, to our family.
“Except you’re wilder,” Dad said. “You must have taken after Aiden in that regard.”
Pulling away from Dad, I gave Killian a playful scowl. “Let’s not ruin the night.”
He shook his head, but thankfully he let it go. I turned to my big brother and wrapped my arms around his waist.
“Where have you been hiding, stranger?” I scolded him softly.
The whole fiasco with Branka Russo didn’t seem to affect him, but for some reason he seemed to be around even less.
Shortly after Alessio’s wedding to Autumn, my brother and Branka’s wedding took place.
Much to everyone’s shock, she was kidnapped as she made her way down the aisle to marry Killian.
Long story short, she’d loved her kidnapper way before she ever liked my brother and had never stopped.
“I’ve been in New York,” Killian said, pushing a strand of hair from my forehead. “It’s you who’s been distant. And hiding. What trouble have you been up to?”
My stomach dropped like lead, fearing that maybe he had found out about my extracurricular activities. But he wouldn’t be smiling the way he was if he did. He’d tear me a new one.
“Moi?” I asked brightly, batting my lashes innocently. “My life is boooring.”
Killian quietly observed me, probably seeing more than I wanted him to.
“I’d dare say, your life is more exciting than mine,” Ivy remarked, cutting in. “Try living with my family and you’ll love boring.”
Edward Murphy, the head of the Murphy Irish mafia, and his brothers were anything but boring. And I’d stake my life that living with them wasn’t boring either. They probably sheltered Ivy and that alone drove her nuts.
“At least your brothers are hot,” Wynter chimed teasingly. “I’d have fun living with them.”
Her husband showed up out of thin air and promptly growled. “Jesus, how did you get here so fast?” I muttered.
Wynter immediately blushed and added sweetly, “But not as good looking as my husband. Nobody compares to him.”
Basilio watched Wynter with a volatile yet vulnerable look in his eyes. I couldn’t understand their relationship. That intense longing.
“We’ll come and visit,” Davina told Ivy. “Liam’s dad invited us over again.”
“You mean he invited my son,” Dad corrected her. “He’s okay with us not coming.”
Davina shrugged. “He’s crazy. Good man, but crazy. So to Ireland we’ll all go.”
I wouldn’t be going. I loved Grandpa Brennan, but there was no mistake that he’d only considered his grandchild part of his bloodline. Being adopted, Killian and I didn’t count. I couldn’t blame him, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt a little bit.
“What time do you want to leave?” Davina asked my dad.
“I’m tired already.” Then she yawned as if to emphasize her fatigue.
I really hoped she wasn’t knocked up again.
It’d make hanging out with her and Wynter unbearable.
It seemed sixty percent of our conversation revolved around babies and diapers already.
“Are you pregnant?” Ivy blurted out, obviously having a similar line of thought.
“Well, I am,” Wynter answered, grinning while rubbing her belly at the same time. It didn’t escape me how she diverted the attention from Davina. I narrowed my eyes on my stepmom and noted she wasn’t drinking alcohol.
“Motherfuck—”
“Juliette!”
“You are knocked up!” I hissed. “Again? I mean, don’t they say to wait at least two years or some shit like that. We are too young for brats.”
“ You are a brat,” a voice came from behind me and I whirled around, coming face-to-face with the man who made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“This is an A and B conversation. See yourself out of it,” I muttered. When he didn’t move, I continued, “Why are you always where you’re not wanted?”
He didn’t seem fazed. His hands slid into his pockets and he leaned against the wall, his posture casual and self-confident.
“This is my cousin’s birthday party,” he pointed out, his tone self-righteous. I gritted my teeth at his insolence, but I kept my cool and feigned indifference as I returned my attention to my friends whose eyes were darting back and forth between Dante and me.
Dante leaned forward, his scent invading my lungs and tingles exploded over my skin. The man hadn’t even touched me and my body reacted.
Breathe, Juliette.
I inhaled deeply and that cologne of rain and forest overwhelmed all my senses.
His aftershave wrapped around me. Confidence rolled off of him in waves, his magnetism intoxicating.
It was what pissed me off the most. My body reacted, fooling me into thinking I could overcome my phobia of having sex.
It was a lie. I’d attempted it enough. The moment the man's body pressed on top of mine, cold panic settled in and suffocated me.
Every time. Just thinking about it, an invisible hand wrapped around my throat and almost cut off my oxygen supply.
I released a shuddering breath. Choosing not to tempt my body further, I took a step back to put some distance between us.
“Let’s dance,” I said to my friends.
Basilio was already all over Wynter, his hand rubbing her growing belly, and it took all my self-control not to roll my eyes. Those two had to stop or they’d end up with a whole soccer team before they were both forty.