For the next two years, we slowed Mr. Moruzzi down. Made him as useless, toothless, and clawless as one could be. We slipped some of the drugs he let us sell into his drinks and food when he wasn’t looking, getting him unknowingly hooked. When he wanted to take a spontaneous trip to the state where Lawrence attended college, we very mistakenly loosened one of the stairs in the house, which resulted in Mr. Moruzzi breaking his leg and canceling the trip. We began messing with his sanity. Tampering with his electricity. Changing light bulbs to create different hues, different atmospheres. Cut his shoelaces shorter. Made his important documents and work things go MIA.
He became more vicious toward us. The women he’d once brought over to reward us for our good behavior were long gone. He hid food. Locked us out when we came home late. We counted down the minutes, then seconds, until it was all over.
Tom got out first. He found a good college, got a scholarship, and bailed. He asked me to come with him. Said he’d take care of me the last year before I turned eighteen. But I didn’t want to slow him down.
That last year with Moruzzi was a blur. He became the meanest when we were alone. But finally, and through hard work at school, I managed to get out, too.
I remember that day. When I turned eighteen.
I didn’t even bother to return home after work.
Tom picked me up. My pocket was full of money I was supposed to give Mr. Moruzzi.
“Ready to start your new life?” Tom asked. He looked good. Like he was having fun. I wanted to have fun, too. Though, I knew my upbringing had corrupted me, made me a dysfunctional person. Tom, Law, and I, we were going to make up for everything we’d lost.
I nodded. We left Chicago behind in a cloud of dust.
Craig’s allergic reaction excuse sent guests into a frenzy. Nobody noticed him limping into a tinted Lexus through the back door, escorted by a group of frat boys with receding hairlines and dad bods. One of them took the driver’s seat and floored it out of the estate. I slipped into one of the bathrooms to regulate my breathing and scream into the shower curtain.
Brat got hurt.
Brat gotveryhurt.
Brat was more than just a brat. She was a broken-winged swan. One who thought of herself as an ugly duckling.
When I got out, Hallie was standing with her family in the corner of the drawing room, assuming the role of the designated, worried sister with distinction.
“But I didn’t even know he was allergic to wool,” Hera sulked, while Julianne patted her shoulder and Anthony rubbed at Brat’s arm. “I mean, he wears woolallthe time. He prefers cashmere, of course—who doesn’t? But…”
Unfortunately, her shit-for-brains fiancé hadn’t come up with a brilliant excuse. He should have gone with something more believable. Like reptiles or pollinated fruit.
“I read somewhere that allergies can develop as you grow older,” Hallie suggested helpfully, standing a bit to the side from the rest of her family.
“You read?” Hera cocked an eyebrow. “Now there’s a shocker.”
“Hera!” Julianne chided. “What’s wrong with you? Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean you can pick on your sister like that.”
“She’s explaining allergies to adoctor.” Hera bared her teeth. “Now get rid of the guests. I guess I wasn’t destined to have a wedding rehearsal, after all.” She pushed past her mother, trekking upstairs to her room, grabbing a bottle of wine from a champagne bucket on her way there.
The wedding was tomorrow, which meant that Craig somehow had to snap back into shape in that time. I’d kept that fact in mind while smashing his skull into broken glass. His face stayed pristine. Ugly as sin, but unmarred.
Julianne squeezed Hallie’s arm. “Sorry about that. Hera is under a lot of stress. Give us one moment, Bunny.”
She charged after her elder daughter, trying to soothe her. Anthony stayed behind, putting a hand over Hallie’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you stay on the ranch tonight?” He ping-ponged his gaze between us. “I know it’s hectic and teeming with staff. But the wedding’s tomorrow. We can go to the venue together from here. Save all of us the trouble. And we really did miss you.”
“I don’t have my gown with me.” Hallie’s hand fluttered over her midsection. She wanted to stay at the scene of the crime like I wanted to shove my dick into a meat grinder. But leaving hastily might spike her parents’ suspicion. Not that I cared if that bastard, Craig, went down in flames. However, I knew Hallie didn’t want people to find out about the assault, and I had to respect that.
“I’ll send someone to fetch it.” Anthony mustered a smile. “Whaddaya say, Sugar Pie? Make your old man happy?”
I stepped between them, noticing that Hallie felt more secure next to my body than with her own father. “We accept. Thank you for your hospitality, President Thorne.”
“I’ll have Annika show you to your rooms.”
“Room,” I corrected him coolly. Both he and Hallie eyed me curiously.
“Security here is through the roof.” Anthony frowned.