How can it, when Blair is claiming I’m a father?
Despite this, my attempts to get in touch with her have failed. She isn’t taking any of my calls and her responses to my texts are minimal, to say the least.
The car lurches slightly as Archer pulls away from the chop shop’s warehouse and I type out yet another message to Blair, demanding a meeting to talk about what she told Cara.
As I hit send, a gnawing pit begins to form in my stomach. With such a large target on my back, I need to find out the truth sooner rather than later. I can’t have this information falling into the wrong hands.
Blair can’t hide from me forever.
7
CARA
Being escorted from place to place takes me right back to my childhood when permission was required in any form in order to visit friends or spend time away from my family. It frustrated me back then and it frustrates me now even though I’m fully aware that it’s for my own protection.
Even if I had my freedom, I don’t know where I’d run to.
I’ve spent the better part of the last week in bed on an emotional roller coaster. One minute I’m wallowing in the pain at losing my father, and the next I find myself angry, thinking about all the poor decisions he made. Killian has been kind and attentive to my every need but as the brewing war takes him from my bedside, I’m forced to seek out other sources of comfort and Sienna is perhaps the only other person who can understand what I’m feeling.
Killian wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway.
She seats me in the lounge and I settle into a large plush chair that almost swallows me whole as she discusses something with one of her guards. A guard stands near the door. He’s temporarily taken Archer’s place but his presence doesn’t deliver the same level of comfort Archer’s does. Sienna perhaps notices my discomfort and addresses him directly.
“Timothy, why don’t you check out the gardens?” she asks with a polite smile that matches the softness of her blue blouse and cream slacks. It’s a quiet order and a note of relief swells in my chest as Timothy takes the hint, nods once, and leaves the room.
I take a deeper breath and Sienna turns to me, her eyes brimming with warmth as she approaches and sits opposite me.
“Cara, darling, how are you doing?” She smiles and I’m distracted by how glamorous she looks while also maintaining the relaxedI just threw this onlook.
How does she do it?
“Sienna, thank you for inviting me over,” I say with practiced politeness. “I’m… okay,”
To my surprise, Sienna laughs and waves one of her hands in my direction as she reclines.
“Please, we don’t need formalities here. I dismissed Timothy so that you would relax, now please.” Her brow tweaks up slightly and my heart gives one single, painful thump as she speaks again. “How are you?”
I try to maintain my composure for a few more seconds but her soft voice is like a key in the lock of my faux strength and my shoulders slump forward.
“Struggling,” I admit. “Everyone is being lovely and supportive but I-I feel…” The words I’m seeking flee my mind, nothing seems appropriate enough and I slide my hands down my thighs, digging my fingertips slightly into my knees.
“Smothered?” Sienna offers and I smile weakly.
“Killian is wonderful, and I know he understands the pain. Archer has been amazing too and my friends are incredibly supportive but…” I pause and Sienna rises from her chair, moving to a decorative oak cabinet that rests near the large bay window. “They don’t quite understand.”
“Grief is unique to all who experience it,” Sienna says as she opens the cabinet and pulls out two glasses along with a various selection of alcohol. “But for people like us, mafia wives? It’s even more unique. We can’t be seen as weak and yet losing a loved one can bring us to our knees.”
Sienna busies herself with pouring from the various bottles, whipping up some cocktail as I tip my head back on the chair and take what seems like the first deep breath I’ve had since my father was murdered. It’s nice to hear such sentiments from a woman I admire.
“I admire you, y’know. How you seem so powerful and well put together all the time.” I wet my lips, trying to ease some of the sandpaper that’s grown in my throat from all the excessive crying.
“You think I’m well put together?” Sienna asks with a light chuckle as she sweeps a lemon wedge around the rim of each glass.
“You seem to… thrive in this life. I could barely get out of bed to come and see you.”
Sienna approaches me, cocktails in hand, and offers me a glass. I take it, grateful to have something to occupy my hands as she retakes her seat.
“The pain you carry Cara will be with you for a long time. Please, don’t rush the healing. I imagine there are many…complicatedfeelings about your father after everything he’s done.” She takes a sip, smacking her lips lightly together then she smiles, satisfied.