convenience.”
“Excellent. I look forward to it. Enjoy the festivities.” I excuse myself because I can’t tolerate playing nice for too long. I need to find Ella.
Willow holds on tight and stays silent, which is what’s expected. To the outside world, she’s on my arm to look pretty, and that’s all. Saint is there as reassurance, and when my guests turn to look at us with interest, it seems the point has been made.
I work the room, greeting my guests and making small talk. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air as not that long ago, I was seen as nothing but the enemy, a traitor. These putrid human beings easily discarded me, but now that I’m back on top, they want to pretend it never happened.
I can play the game, but I’ll never forget how I was replaced without a second thought. There is no loyalty between us.
As we walk into the ballroom, I scan my surroundings, desperate to find Ella, but she’s not here. Pavel walks over, and the stern look on his face alerts me to the fact something is wrong.
“She’s not here,” he whispers under his breath.
Inhaling sharply, I keep it together because we’re on display. “All of them?”
Pavel shakes his head. “Santo is here. That’s all.”
Willow squeezes my arm gently, reassuring me. But there is only one person I need reassurance from, and it seems she’s not here.
“Where is he?”
Pavel pulls his lips into a thin line, warning me not to make a scene. “Outside having a cigar.”
Without thought, I let Willow go and silently order Saint to watch over her. This room is filled with circling vultures as they’re all intrigued with the American beauty who was able to bring a leader to his knees.
They want to know why she’s back and what role she plays in my life. As for Saint, their curiosity is sated because they’re still afraid of him. The fact no one will look him in the eye confirms this.
Following Pavel, I attempt to act semi normal and not close to boiling point as people commend me on what a fine party this is. Or how delicious the caviar dip is. I’m half listening to their nonsense because none of it matters.
The only one that matters isn’t here.
Stepping out onto the marbled terrace, I see Santo propped up against the balustrade, laughing at something Austin Bailey just said.
Both men have a taste in high-powered weaponry. However, Austin is a little fish compared to Santo, which gives me an idea. I’ll revisit this later because now, I need to rein in the urge of throwing a smug Santo over the marbled banister.
“Gentlemen,” I say with a forced smile. “Grand of you to attend.”
Santo examines me closely. The last he saw me, I was straddling the line between the living and the dead. Thanks to Larisa’s potions, my external bruising has faded. One is oblivious to how dire things were unless they saw it with their own two eyes as Santo did.
I left him with more questions than answers as he believed I would have been a little more grateful for him saving my life. But him saving me meant Ella was in danger. She still is.
Austin extends his hand, which I shake firmly. Thus far, no one has commented on my cane. It doesn’t surprise me that Santo is the first one.
“I like this look,” he says, laughing as though we’re friends. “Very dashing.”
We shake hands, and it takes all my willpower not to break his. “It serves many purposes,” I cryptically reply. “I’m so pleased you could come. Where are the boys? I haven’t seen them in so long.”
I try to keep my tone casual.
Santo takes a pull of his cigar. “Those boys don’t like to share,” he replies with an arrogant smirk while I barely hold back the urge to elbow him in the face. “When I left home, they were arguing over who was going to play with the new…toy. So I’m unsure if they’ll come. Knowing my sons, they’ll end up making a mess.”
I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.
Advancing, I’m only stopped because Pavel yanks on the back of my vest to halt my attack.
“Oh, what a shame. I was looking forward to catching up with them,” Pavel says quickly, speaking for me because words have escaped me.
All I can do is glare at Santo, envisioning all the ways I’m going to kill him. He seems unaware of my rage.
The “toy” he speaks of is Ella. He