I laugh. “I know the risks. We’re mobsters.”
He clutches my shoulder. “Stop joking. This is serious business.”
His voice has me on edge, a sliver of me contemplating whether or not I’ll shout back. But what’s the point? He doesn’t care.
“We cannot fail. This is our family name and legacy on the line,” he says. “You must succeed and bring the Baas family to their knees. For all the hurt they’ve caused this family. Destroy them or make them surrender.”
I nod, and he clutches the nape of my neck like he always did in the small moments he was actually content. He sighs and looks out over the horizon again. “Oh, if only your brother could’ve seen you now. He’d be proud.”
I snort. I doubt it. And I doubt I’d be standing here today if it wasn’t for his death.
“Liam … I miss you, boy. You would’ve made the perfect heir.”
My nostrils twitch as I clutch the banister.
Fuck this.
I turn and march off.
“Luca? Where are you going?” my father asks. “Oh, c’mon. Can’t you indulge your father for once?”
“I have. But the rum is gone, so I am, too,” I bark, raising that same middle finger I know he disapproves of.
But even as I’m finally ready to take over the De Vos business, I will never stop being the Luca he despises. And that brings the biggest smile of all to my face.
And as I leave, I make a promise to myself to never fucking care about anything anyone thinks of me ever again.
Except maybe that one girl sitting in my bedroom at home.
That one girl I’m headed back to with all my seething hatred.
Time to go fuck it out of my system.
Chapter 9
Jill
* * *
Sweat drops roll down my forehead, but I ignore them as they tumble onto my cheek. With the only wire I managed to tear out of the fake flowers in the vase near the window, I’m prying away at the lock around my neck.
It’s already late in the evening, and I’ve been left on my own for hours. But I haven’t closed one eye. I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror for the last few hours since Luca was gone, hoping I can get this collar off before he comes back. But my hands are shaking, and every muscle in my body hurts from trying.
“Fuck!” I groan, stopping for a second to take a breather.
I can’t catch a fucking break.
Closing my eyes, I sigh. I have no clue what I’m doing. I’ve never had to break out of a place before, let alone get a collar off my neck.
Who in their right mind even does this to a person?
A monster, that’s who.
And that monster could come back any moment now.
I have to think. I chose to make this deal, but there are more ways to make sure my sister is safe, and one of them is running and taking her with me. But what else can I do to make sure I get out of this house unscathed?
I look at the door lock and decide to pry it open instead. I can’t waste any more time on this collar. I’ll deal with that thing once I get out. First, I need this damn door open, so I can escape.
I stuff the wire into the lock and fold it, pushing it around to find the right shape. After being busy for so long, I now understand why picking a lock is such a tough job, but I’m not giving up. Even though I’ve never done this before, I have nothing to lose at this point.
Suddenly, a door slams shut.
I stop. Drop the wire. Suck in a breath.
Nerves are killing me.
Footsteps come closer.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
There’s no more time.
He’s here.
I scramble and rush to the curtains, where I pick up a vase from the floor, chucking out the remaining fake flowers that I destroyed for the wire. I hold it close to my heart as I try to calm down while the footsteps loom closer and closer …
Click.
I peek behind the curtain.
The door handle moves.
I quickly move back and take in another deep breath, preparing myself.
If I can’t escape quietly, I’ll have to try by force.
C’mon, Jill, you can do this.
You’ve seen fighting before. Your father’s men did it all the time even though he never brought you to any of the dangerous stuff. And don’t forget about Easton and his trigger-happy guards. You know how violence works. Now do it.
I swallow back the nerves and brace myself.
The door snaps shut softly.
Shoes tap across the floor as someone stalks toward me.
It has to be him. He wouldn’t allow anyone else in my room, I’m sure of it.
One more step. Two. Three.
In a swift motion, I spin on my heels and lunge forward, attempting to throw the vase as hard as I can.