Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
ANDIE
After exposing my raw, dirty secrets, I needed to be around something good and pure. I have no clue how long I’ve been kneeling at Sarah’s bedside as if I was a Catholic parishioner receiving the Holy Communion. Perhaps I’m praying. Begging a higher power to watch over this precious little girl who has been born into a world that will steal her innocence and bring her nothing but pain. I should know.
The hairs on my neck raise, and I sense him before I see him. I can smell the sandalwood and citrus of his body wash. I can feel his anger and his power with each step he takes into the room. And then, he’s lowering to his knees beside me, his shoulder brushing up against mine, his body heat chasing away the bone-cold chill that has taken up residence deep within me.
“Can we talk?” Keane says, barely above a whisper.
The only answer I can give is a slight nod of my head, because I can’t make myself leave her yet.
Patiently, Keane waits as I watch Sarah breathe, her subconscious lost in a peaceful slumber, her eyes flitting back and forth under her lids. I hope she’s dreaming of butterflies. Mariposita . That’s what Rafe calls her. It’s a perfect nickname.
Butterflies are nature’s beauty personified. Delicate, yet strong. Their bodies actually liquefy while in chrysalis, their cells rearranging to metamorphose from a caterpillar into a winged creature so wondrous, they have been revered and worshipped throughout the ages. Butterflies represent rebirth, transformation, and hope. I read somewhere that some cultures believe that butterflies are a symbol of the human soul. I like that. I like believing that. I wonder what my soul would look like. Clearly, it wouldn’t look like a butterfly. There is nothing beautiful inside of me anymore.
Standing up, I place a gentle kiss on Sarah’s hand. She’s got an arm wrapped around one of her stuffed unicorns. I tuck the blanket securely around her, and then I shut every emotion down and lock them up tight. I have a mission to carry out, and I cannot fail.
“I’m ready,” I tell Keane and silently pad out of Sarah’s room.
Instead of going back to the wing of the house where the other bedrooms are located, I walk outside to the courtyard.
The house has a peristyle like you would see in old Greek and Roman architecture. The beige stone portico and stucco pillars surround an open garden. Even in the dark in the middle of the night, I can clearly make out the fountain in the center of a small reflecting pool that is lit up with in-ground uplights. There’s a musty, earthy fragrance of mulch floating in the air, and I wrinkle my nose at the smell. Low hedgerows of greenery outline the perimeter, and the courtyard has a geometric pattern of paver stones instead of crushed slate. It’s really quite beautiful.
Needing to walk to give my legs a chance to uncramp from kneeling for so long, I leisurely stroll around the perimeter of the portico. I can hear guards patrolling, their footfalls and low voices echoing around us. The night sky is crystal clear with not a cloud to obscure the twinkling of the Milky Way. You don’t get to see the stars like this in the city.
“You were quiet earlier,” Keane casually comments, strolling alongside me.
After baring all of myself to them and reliving what my father did to me, I closed up and regrouped, while the guys started planning on what to do next. From the snippets I did overhear, we’re screwed. There is no plan, no escape, that wouldn’t end up with us dead and Sarah left to survive on her own. And I highly doubt Meribella has the means to protect her against my father. Maybe poke him in the eye with a knitting needle?
So as much as I hate it—no, hate isn’t strong enough a word—I have no choice but to stay and finish what I started. Should I accept and not fight the marriage to Alejandro, as abhorrent as the thought is? If I do, will I still be able to bring my plans for my father’s destruction to fruition? Will I be able to look him in the eye as his life bleeds out in front of me when I rip out his cold, dead heart? Or do I trust my life and that of Sarah’s to Keane and Jax? Rafe has already proved to me more than once that I can’t trust him.
I don’t know what to do. I thought I did, but now I’m at a loss. I wish Tessa were here. I need my friend to bounce ideas off of. Tessa is a tech-genius like Jax. She’s level-headed and has a way of looking at a situation from every angle. Would she tell me to follow my gut and trust the guys? Whatever her advice, I know I can’t let my guard down around them. Not after hearing them leave Kellan to die. How can I be sure they won’t do the same to me as well?
Stopping, I pose a question to Keane. “How would you feel if your father sold you to a drug lord?”
Keane practically grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. The Agostis are well-respected members of our city and have been political allies to the Rossis since before the Great Depression. He had loving parents, a good home life. Maybe I’m wrong. If his life was as picturesque and carefree as I assume, would he be working for my father now, torturing and killing people for a living? Therefore, the simple answer must be that there’s more to Keane than anyone truly knows.
Without hesitation, Keane replies, “We’re not going to let it get that far.”
How can he make such asinine, delusional promises? Is his ego that big that he thinks he will have any power to stop what my father has put into motion? I have a trifecta of I’m-completely-fucked coming at me in the form of Alejandro, Levine, and my father, with nowhere to hide. I guess it’s a good thing I like to fight.
“Get over yourself,” I tell him and start walking again. Lord save me from cocky, narcissistic, handsome men.
Keane grabs my arm and pulls me back. For some reason, I don’t resist.
“You’re not understanding me, princess. You can’t be forced to marry Alejandro if you’re married to someone else.”
Why does this keep happening to me? Was I such a bad person in a past life that the universe wants to continuously toy with me in the most awful of ways?
“Okay, I’m game. Who would that person be?”
“Me.”
I’m struck speechless. My teeth clench with such force, I may crack a molar. I’m raging so hard on the inside that I’m surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted right where I stand. Keane should be glad that there are no sharp objects nearby for me to get my hands on, because I’m already visualizing all the ways I would filet the skin off his bones, starting with his gorgeous face.
“Nope. Not happening.”
And when in the hell did he decide this?
Keane tugs at my long ponytail like a rein when I try to pull away again.
“Let go.”
He twirls his wrist a few times until my hair is wrapped tightly in his fist, then he jerks my head back until I’m forced to look up into his stormy hazel eyes. Even though I’m annoyed and a bit murderous at what he’s doing, my body decides it likes being manhandled by this jackass of a man, as evidenced by how wet I am right now.
“You always react before thinking,” Keane tells me with a tsk . “We’ll need to work on that if you’re going to be my wife.”
My smile is not nice when I reply, “You just get off on telling me what to do. Sorry to disappoint you when I don’t obey.”
“That mouth of yours is going to get you into serious trouble one day.”
Who says it already hasn’t? Because right now, with him daring me with his green-brown eyes and sexy smirk, all I can think is how much I want him to shove me against the nearest wall and take me from behind.
Keane’s pupils blow wide, and I stop breathing when I realize that I said that out loud. Shit! Goddamnit! I do not want to have sex with Keane in any way, shape, or form. I detest the man. Liar .
“I didn’t—” I hastily step away from him, not caring that he’s still fisting my ponytail. I’ll let that sucker rip right off if I need to in order to get as much space as I can between us.
But he’s right. Again. Well, shit. I need to stop letting emotion guide me and use my head more. Maybe if I had done that to begin with, I wouldn’t be in this mess of my own creation. Taking a calming breath and wanting to recreate the most epic facepalm for my stupid word vomit, I retreat until my back hits the side of the house. Crossing my arms over my chest, I ignore Keane’s blatant perusal of my copious rack being plumped up like a grand buffet by my forearms. I’m proud of my C-cup girls. Let him look.
“Alright, oh fearless leader,” I begin. Just because I’m going to start using my brains more doesn’t mean that I can’t do it in the most sarcastic way possible. “Explain the plan that I was conveniently left out of the discussion for.”
Keane smiles, the moonlight reflecting off his pearly whites. I blink. Damn him and his dimples.
“Can you think of a better plan? You don’t want to marry Alejandro. Who were you hoping to marry? Rafe?”
Sighing deeply, I sag against the wall. This conversation is already exhausting. “The thought of marrying Rafe is just as reprehensible to me as the thought of being forced to marry his brother,” I grit out.
Keane’s chuckle is full of warmth and a bit of mischievousness. “Nice one.”
“How long has that been going on, anyway? Rafe and Rita,” I clarify.
I don’t want to know, but my need to know is more persuasive. Was Rafe cheating on me with Rita when we were together? Is that why it was so easy for him to walk away?
“Not long. A couple of months.”
I shouldn’t feel relief by that, but I do.
“Do you honestly think that my father will allow me to embarrass him by refusing the marriage? Mob wars have been started over less. It would also ensure that my decapitated head gets mounted on a stake for public display. No thanks.”
I expect Keane to continue to argue his point with me, but instead, he asks, “Why did you and Rafe break up?”
I can only imagine how Jax would react if he found out what happened to me the last time Rafe and I were together and my father found us in bed. Somehow, unbelievably, the Grim Reaper is on my side. Jax turned against his best friends to stand by me. Okay, he also cut me, and choked me, and threatened to kill me a few times. No one’s perfect.
“It’s actually none of your business,” I snap, not liking the feeling of being cornered into talking about something that still causes me heartache whenever I think about it.
Other than Kellan, Rafe was the second person who I let myself love. And look how that turned out.
Keane lowers his head and stares at the mosaic tile beneath his feet. “Fair enough.”
I hadn’t noticed the mosaic images inlaid into the paver stone design. These weren’t there five years ago. About every ten feet or so along the portico flooring are images of different butterflies created from tiny pieces of colored stone and glass.
“Sarah seems to adore you, Jax, and Rafe. I guess I should thank you for being good to her and treating her well, even though Kellan is no longer here.”
I have seen nothing but a smile on her face. She clearly loves all three men. She gets to play and be a kid and do all the whimsical things a little girl her age should enjoy. I will forever be grateful to them for that alone.
Keane shoves his hands into his back pockets. “We love her with everything we have in us. She may be Kellan’s blood, but Sarah is ours .”
A tightening in my chest alerts me to the softening in my heart at his words. I try valiantly to cement and brick up the crack that has appeared at his beautiful declaration as quickly as I can. But I’m too late. The crack is permanent.
“Keane,” I whisper.
He takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, placing a simple press of his mouth to my wrist and holding it there while he looks down at me through lowered lashes. Then he bends his head slightly, his breath puffing against my oversensitive skin. If I shift just a fraction, our lips will meet.
“Think about my offer. You know where to find me.”
He takes a step back and disappears into the night.