to protect myself against a family like the Scarpinatos.”
Leaning back against the seat, I stare out the window at the green blur of trees that pass on the highway. “They’re not stupid. I expect they’ll try to negotiate.”
“To which I expect you’ll decline.”
“Of course. In the meantime, Franco is anticipating a shipment this week, worth over a million. I want it dumped offshore, watertight containers, far enough that their fleets can’t sweep for it. We’ll hang onto it for a bit, and when they realize how crippling it would be to lose it altogether, I suspect they’ll play nice.”
“I wasn’t aware of this shipment.”
“Neither was I. Your second task this week is to find out who dropped the ball and can his ass.”
“I’ll look into the matter, Master.”
“Good. In the meantime, don’t worry about Franco Scarpinato. He’s my problem. And I don’t let problems fester for long.”
Chapter 23
Isadora
The sliver of the moon is high, and a slight chill on the air ruffles the thin fabric of my shirt, as I sit out on the balcony, keeping an eye out for Nell. She should’ve been back an hour ago, and I feel like every second that ticks off in between is one second closer to Laura’s next nightmare. The last thing I need is to have Lucian storming down here in search of the nurse who skipped off to do God knows what. There’s no way I can lie to a man like that.
A man who’d see right through me.
All my life, I’ve constructed walls to protect myself from a world that has no regard for boundaries. Some have ‘dozed their way past my barriers with little care. But never has a man seen through them, as if they’re translucent.
The sound of yelling steels my muscles, and I freeze in my chair, until it occurs to me that the voice belongs to a man, not Mrs. Blackthorne. Reaching me from somewhere above.
Pushing up from my chair, I lean over the railing of the balcony, craning my neck toward the roof of the turret, and Lucian’s office above.
My heart skids to a stop, and a gasp flies from my mouth.
With trembling hands, I attempt to reach out, but draw them to my face in shock.
Balanced on the edge of the parapet, Lucian sways with a drink in his hand, shouting obscenities that are so slurred, I can’t even entirely make out what the hell he’s saying.
To avoid startling him, I don’t bother to call to him, and instead scamper inside, making a beeline toward the elevator.
“Fuck!” Halfway there, I stall and turn around, hustling back toward the balcony to close and lock the door so Laura won’t escape, before darting around to the elevator again.
Oh, God, please don’t jump. If I get to the damn roof and find him lying in a pool of blood on the ground below, I’ll probably end up in a psych ward after.
My finger jabs the up button, my whole body shaking with adrenaline, while I wait for the goddamn car to slide to a stop and open its doors. Once inside, I press the third button, and when the doors finally open again, I glance around the dark office, hardly taking in much of the surroundings, and find a door at the opposite side of the room. I don’t even know if it leads to the roof, but I head toward it anyway.
Another quick sprint through the door and up a flight of stairs brings me to the flat roof of the turret. Ahead of me, Lucian stands with his back to me, his black suit in disarray, the coat falling off one shoulder.
Careful, so as not to startle him, I tiptoe closer.
“N’body fuckin’ threatens a Blackthorne. Isn’at what you said t’me? Fuckin’ lyin’ prick.” Bottle of liquor in hand, he attempts to balance himself as he sets the mouth of the bottle to his glass like he’s trying to fill it. A small bit trickles over the edge of the glass, and he chucks it off the roof, tipping back the bottle, instead.
My heart is beating so fast I can scarcely draw in a breath, watching him teeter on the edge. Approaching him might make him stumble, though.
“I wanted t’be free of this shit. B’you … y’had one more punishment t’dole out, didn’ you? One more fuckin’ hell f’me t’walk through.”
I quietly clear my throat and step closer. “Mr. Blackthorne?”
His arm flies out as he spins to face me, and he loses his footing just