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The butler nods. “Of course, Mr. Bellamy. Please come in. I’m Ferguson, the Gallos’ butler.”
Ferguson reminds me of Nana’s old butler, Laurence. Is he even still alive? We never had a butler at our place. My father was a little more down to earth, though we did have a live-in housekeeper and nanny while we kids were little, though Mom felt that raising us was her responsibility.
I enter the opulent mansion, the air heavy with the scent of wealth and power. My footsteps echo off the marble floors as Ferguson leads me to a study where Savannah’s father—presumably—sits behind a giant wooden desk.
“Mr. Bellamy,” he says coolly, his expression guarded.
“Mr. Gallo,” I reply, keeping my voice low and determined. Thank you for seeing me hovers on my tongue, but instead, “We need to talk.”
He raises an eyebrow but remains tight-lipped, his face a mask of indifference. But his eyes betray a flicker of unease.
“About what?” he asks, his tone clipped.
“About Savannah’s forced marriage,” I say, my gaze never leaving his.
The tension in the room rises as we lock eyes, each of us unwilling to back down. But I know I must press further, break through his defenses, and get to the truth.
“Tell me,” I demand. “Why are you doing this? What do you stand to gain?”
He speaks in an even tone. “I don’t see how this is any of your business. It’s between the McAllisters and my family.”
“What about Savannah? What about what she wants?”
He stares me down. “You think I’d let her marry you? You’re a criminal.”
I let out a laughing scoff. “You really want to go there, Gallo? Don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?”
No reaction.
“Besides, if you’ve had me checked out, as I’m sure you have, you know I’m innocent.”
“Doesn’t matter. On paper, you’re guilty.” He shuffles through some paperwork. “You confessed. And I’ve never even been under arrest.”
“You want to play that hand already? You kidnapped your own daughter.”
“From what I understand, she went willingly.”
She did, at that. “You sent armed thugs to my place to take her.”
“Did I?” He widens his eyes in a ridiculous attempt to look innocent. “That’s the first I’ve heard of such a thing.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “And I’m just that gullible. They may have been the McAllisters’ men, but you and I both know what’s going on here.” I stand up and slam my hands on the desk, causing a few knickknacks to fall to the floor. “Tell me what it will take to free Savannah from whatever deal you made with the McAllisters. I’ll pay anything. Do anything.”
He eyes my fists but does not stand. “Stay out of what doesn’t concern you.”
“Come on, Gallo,” I urge him, my voice low. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Gallo’s mask slips for a minute. Is that a flicker of regret I see in his dark eyes?
“You think I don’t love my daughter,” he finally says. “You’re wrong.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’s full of shit, but then I think about Savannah.
Her father got her out of the marriage at eighteen. He somehow—after locking her into a meeting room with no means of communication—got her out of the marriage at twenty-two as well.
“Then what’s really going on here?” I ask. “I love Savannah, and I swear to God I will not let her become some slave to Miles McAllister.”
He sighs then, rises, and walks out from behind his desk. “This isn’t something you’ll understand, Mr. Bellamy. This isn’t your world.”
