Ashes (Web of Desire #3) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,51

couldn’t separate Sparrow from Allister, Madeline would deserve the same. Neither did. The only thing either shared with that evil man was blood.

I focused on the surroundings: the tree-lined streets and freshly shoveled sidewalks. Above us was a clear sky. The unusually cloud-free winter morning’s sunlight reflected off the frost- covered fences and trees as if they’d been sprinkled with glitter. It was impossible from the street to have any notion of the decisions and depravity that went on in many of these homes over the years. Allister’s consigliere, Rudy Carlson, lived near the Sparrows. His wife, Martha, still resided there. Essentially her financial status was Sparrow’s gift to his mother—maintaining the status of her friend. The death of her husband near the time of Allister’s death was essential to our coup.

The Sparrow outfit had sat behind these mansion walls and sentenced women and children to death by exploitation. Yes, some like Madeline and Jana had survived, but the list of others who didn’t would never be complete.

Romero pulled the car up the driveway, coming to a stop before Mrs. Sparrow’s home.

Walking together, Sparrow and I stilled on the front step. Without knocking, the door opened from within. The woman in a maid’s uniform smiled. “Mr. Sparrow, Mr. Kelly, I’ll let Mrs. Sparrow know you’ve arrived. Please come in.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Sparrow said as we both stepped onto the marble floor of the foyer and the door was closed to the outside world. Without another word, Molly disappeared down a corridor to the left.

Everything about this mansion oozed regality, from the staircase before us that twisted with landings on the second and third floors, to the sitting room to our right and the lead-glass doors through which we’d just entered. Three stories above, a crystal chandelier shone. The marble entry was alive with rainbows dancing through prisms from both the sunlight through the doors and the chandelier above.

“This way, gentlemen,” Molly said as she reappeared, gesturing us down the corridor from which she’d just returned.

Through a parlor, dining room, and hallway we were led until we came to a stop at the entry to the atrium. Sitting at a small table with a dainty cup and saucer was Sterling’s mother. Dressed immaculately as if she’d been anticipating our visit, she turned our way. The overly sweet scent of her perfume grew stronger as we approached.

“Sterling, Mr. Kelly,” she said, feigning a smile.

It was no secret that Genevieve Sparrow was not a fan of her son’s inner circle. Perhaps it was that Allister’s men came from at least the perception of money. Reid, Mason, and I were—in her eyes—leeches her son had acquired while in the army. Perhaps she blamed her husband’s demise on our influence. If she did, it proved she knew very little about her own son.

Sterling Sparrow sought advice from the three of us, but decisions were his and his alone.

Mrs. Sparrow gestured to two other chairs at the table. “Please, have a seat.”

My gaze went momentarily to Sparrow, wondering if the delicate chairs would hold our weight. It wasn’t that either of us was heavy. It was that the chairs with their frail frames and woven cane seats looked like they were designed in another time for smaller people.

“Gentlemen,” Molly said, “may I bring you something to eat or drink?”

“Oh, Molly,” Mrs. Sparrow replied, “I’m certain my son doesn’t have time for that. He hardly has time for his own mother. He can’t give me more than five minutes’ notice of his arrival.” She turned to Sparrow as he pulled back a chair and gingerly sat. “Did it ever occur to you that I had plans?”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Have plans?” he clarified.

“Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I’m meeting some of the ladies for lunch today at the tea room.”

“It’s ten in the morning. I think you’ll make it.”

After taking a sip of her tea, she placed the cup upon the saucer. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit? Will I be able to tell my friends that I will finally have a grandchild?”

My eyes widened as I too sat, avoiding Sparrow’s expression. Technically, Ruby was Allister’s grandchild. It would be a cold day in hell when Genevieve made that connection with anything other than repulsion.

“Not today,” Sparrow replied.

“Of course not. That wife of yours is too busy with her business and foundation. There was a time when women in the position she’s acquired through marrying you would do what was expected and acceptable.