Chapter 14
SAVANNAH
Idon’t even see Romeo leave my dorm. I’m too focused on the sound of my father’s voice as he says my name, the anger in it that tells me that everything is about to get so much worse.
"Savannah Marie Beauregard." His voice is ice. Pure, cold fury wrapped in the veneer of Southern civility. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer."
My hands are shaking, but I try to keep my voice steady. "Yes, sir."
"Have you been spending time with Romeo Ciresa?"
The name sounds wrong in my father's mouth. Like a curse. Like something dirty.
"I—he's in my graduate seminar. We've worked together on—"
"Don't lie to me." Each word is clipped and precise. "I have photographs, Savannah. I have documentation. Thaddeus has had you followed for the past three weeks, and the reports are—" He pauses, and I can hear him breathing, trying to control his anger. "Disturbing."
The room tilts. Thad had me followed. Of course he did. Of course. He’s been absent physically because he’s been letting me walk into a trap, not because he’s been busy with work.
"Daddy, I can explain—"
"You can explain why you've been seen with this man in your dorm room? Why you've been photographed with him at restaurants, at the library, at—" Another pause. "Why have you been conducting an affair while engaged to be married?"
"It's not—it wasn't an affair. We were just—"
"Just what? Just friends? Just study partners?" His voice rises for the first time. "Do you think I'm a fool? Do you think I don't know why a boy would be in your dorm, Savannah?"
Tears roll down my cheeks as I think frantically of how to salvage this, how to keep it from getting worse. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry." He’s silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is tight and angry.
"You're sorry. You've embarrassed this family.
You've jeopardized your engagement to one of the most prominent families in Charleston.
You've been consorting with—" He stops himself.
"Do you have any idea who Romeo Ciresa is? What his family does?"
"He's a graduate student—"
"He's the son of Dante Ciresa. The Ciresa crime family, Savannah. Organized crime. The kind of people who could destroy everything I've built."
The words hit me like a slap. Crime family. I can’t bring myself to believe it. Romeo, a criminal. I think of how dangerous he’s seemed to me at times, how arrogant, how he believes that what he wants is his, regardless of what he has to do to get it.
But a criminal?
"I didn't know," I whisper. I’m not entirely sure I believe it, and that this isn’t just a way for my father to convince me that I have to stop seeing him.
"Well, now you do. And now you're going to fix this." His voice is controlled again. "You're coming home. Tonight. You're going to pack your things and fly to Charleston, and you're going to be here by tomorrow afternoon. Do you understand?"
"I have classes—"
"I don't care about your classes. You're coming home, and we're going to discuss your future."
"Daddy, please—"
"This is not a negotiation, Savannah. You're coming home, or I'm cutting off your funding. All of it. Your tuition, your living expenses, your stipend. Everything."
The threat steals my breath. "You can't—"
"I can, and I will. You're living on my money, attending school on my money, and if you want that to continue, you'll do as I say."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" His voice hardens. "You want to talk about fair? You've been lying to me for weeks. You've been lying to Thaddeus. You've been conducting yourself in a manner completely unbefitting of a Beauregard. And now you want to talk about fair?"
I'm sobbing now, unable to hold it back. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You have twenty-four hours to pack and fly home. If you're not here by tomorrow afternoon, I'm making a phone call to the university to withdraw my funding. And then I'm calling Thaddeus to move up the wedding date. If you're going to act like a child, you're going to be treated like one."
"Please don't—"
"Twenty-four hours, Savannah. Don't make me come get you."
The line goes dead. I stand there, phone in my hand, feeling like the world is collapsing around me.
Thad had me followed. My father knows… not everything, but enough to be suspicious. And if I don't go home, I lose everything—my degree, my funding, my freedom.
I'm trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.
I'm throwing clothes into my suitcase an hour later when someone knocks on my door. For a moment, I think it's Vivian, coming to check on me. But when I open the door, it's Romeo.
He looks terrible. His hair is disheveled, his eyes are red, and he's staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. I sent him away an hour ago, and now he’s here, and I know I should remind him that I didn’t ask him to come back.
But instead, I just take a step back. I want him here, even after everything.
It helps that he looks as if realizing what he did wrecked him entirely.
"What are you doing?" he asks, looking past me at the suitcase on my bed.
"I'm packing."
His jaw tightens. "Why?"
"Because I have to go home. My father—" My voice breaks. "He knows. About us. About everything."
Romeo's expression darkens. "How?"
"Thad had me followed. He has photographs. Documentation. He told my father, and now—" I can't finish the sentence.
"Now what?"
"Now I have to go home. I have to—I have to fix this."
"No." He steps into my room, closing the door behind him. "No, you're not going anywhere."
"I don't have a choice—"
"There's always a choice." He's pacing now, and I can see his mind working. "We can handle this. I can handle this."
"Romeo, no—"
“I’ll find a way to get Whitmore away from you. Or I can talk to your father directly. I can explain—"
"Explain what?" I stare at him. "That you've been sleeping with his daughter? That you stole my birth control? That you're the son of a crime boss?"
He stops pacing. "He knows who I am?"
It doesn’t escape me that Romeo just admitted to it being true. My stomach turns to ice, but there’s so much happening that I can’t focus on anything but the most imperative thing that’s right in front of me, right at this moment.
"Yes. He knows everything. And he's furious. And if I don't go home right now, he's cutting off my funding and moving up my wedding date." I shake my head. “You didn’t tell me who you were, Romeo. I thought I knew you but… this is a mess. It’s all a mess.”
"Then don't go. Stay here. I'll take care of everything—"
"You can't take care of this!" I'm crying again, frustrated tears streaming down my face. "This isn't something you can fix with money or leverage or—or violence. This is my family. My life. And I need to handle it myself."
"I can help—"
"No, you can't. Don't you see? If you interfere, it'll only make things worse. My father will see through any manipulation. He'll know it came from you. And then—" I take a shaky breath. "And then I'll lose everything."
"You won't lose everything. You'll have me—"
"That's not enough!" The words come out harsher than I intended, and I see him flinch. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but it's not enough. I need my degree. I need my independence. I need—" I gesture helplessly at my suitcase. "I need to go home and convince my father that this was a mistake."
He looks stricken. "Don't say that."
"It's what I have to say. It's what I have to make him believe."
"And what about us?"
I look at Romeo, at the hurt on his face, and I steel myself. “I have to fix this. I can’t lose my family, my degree, all of this. I just met you. I can’t do this.”
“You don’t mean that—”
"Yes, I do." I have to make him believe it. "I have to go home. I have to fix this. And I need you to stay out of it."
"I can't do that."
"You have to. Please, Romeo. Please just—just let me handle this myself."
He's staring at me, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. The desperate need to fix this, to control the situation, to make everything okay. But for the first time since I've known him, he seems to realize that he can't.
"How long will you be gone?" he asks finally.
"I don't know. A few days. Maybe a week."
"And then?"
"And then I come back and—" I don't know how to finish that sentence. "And then we'll see."
"We'll see." He repeats the words like they're foreign. "That's not good enough."
"It's all I can give you right now."
He takes a step toward me, and I force myself not to step back. He reaches out, his hand cupping my face, and I close my eyes.
"I know you don't want to hear it,” he says softly, “I know you think what I did was unforgivable. But I'm not giving up on us."
"You have to."
"No, I don't." He leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. "Go home. Talk to your father. Do what you need to do. But don't—" His voice breaks. "Don't marry him. Please. Don't marry Whitmore."
"I don't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
"Not this time."
I pull away from him, turning back to my suitcase. I can feel him watching me as I pack, but he doesn't say anything else. When I'm done, I zip the suitcase closed and turn to face him.
"I need you to leave now," I say, forcing my voice to be firm and hard. Sure of myself, when I don’t feel sure of anything anymore.
"Savannah—"
"Please. Just go."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he nods and walks to the door. He pauses with his hand on the handle. "I'll be waiting for you. When you come back. I'll be here."
I can feel my heart cracking open. "Don't."
"I will."
And then he's gone, and I'm alone with my suitcase and the crushing weight of everything I'm about to lose.