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I sighed. “You know what I meant.”
“I do. And yes,” he said. “White picket fence, all of that shit. We have roles and we play them.”
I gave him a long, hard stare. It was crazy. Completely, utterly ludicrous. A madman’s plan if I’d ever heard one. Yet…there was an odd sense of comfort in his words. A strange sense of safety that I couldn’t deny.
“My family will not just let me disappear to Delaware, Tristan,” I said, a wave of anxiety washing over me. “Neither will yours.”
He nodded, his gaze unmoving from the road ahead. “I know,” he replied in a calm tone that seemed to contradict the gravity of our discussion. “That’s why we will have to be careful.”
“Careful?” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “Tristan, this is not some game where we can just hit the reset button if things go wrong. These are our lives, our families...”
“I’m well aware of that,” he cut in, his voice firm yet still steady. “This might come as a surprise to you, Adriana, but I’m not naive.”
“I didn’t say you were naive. I’m just processing the situation.”
“Well, process all you want. You’re going to have plenty of time to.”
“Plenty of time?” I retorted, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “You make it sound as if we’re going on a holiday.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “It’s either this or we stay and risk losing everything,” he said. “Including our lives.”
“If you let me go back, I can take care of myself.”
He glared at me. “We’re going to Delaware,” he said with certainty. “I have to keep you alive. Whether you want me to or not, honestly, I don’t really care.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but he was right. My choices didn’t matter anymore.
And I had to start getting used to that.
Chapter Seventeen: Adriana
Turns out a seven-hour road trip while pregnant is not the most pleasant vacation–especially not when you’re a crazed mafia prince’s prisoner.
We passed multiple state lines, going from the urban sprawl of Boston to the coastal highways of Connecticut, through the gridlock of New York and Philadelphia into Delaware. It was a fairly ugly drive–with numerous bathroom breaks, because I was pregnant and staying in the car for the whole day wasn’t ideal–but as we got closer to our destination, the road opened up to a wide open blue sky along the expanse of the ocean, lighthouses and cute beach cottages peppering the freeway.
“You okay there?” Tristan’s voice broke through my thoughts, his usual cool demeanor slipping to reveal the faintest hint of concern.
“Just nervous,” I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady. “About…”
I trailed off–because what, exactly, was I nervous about? Having a baby? Being trapped with Tristan, away from my family? Faking domestic bliss?
Even if I didn’t get specific, Tristan seemed to understand. He nodded, his piercing blue eyes flicking back to the road as he maneuvered our car around a bend. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”
“We’re still on the run from murderers, Tristan. I don’t know if we’ve gotten through anything.”
He laughed. It was a rumble of a laugh. Deep, resonant, and troubled with an undercurrent of bitterness. “We’re alive, aren’t we? I’d say that’s something.”
Before we knew it, we were pulling up to a narrow three-story building nestled between two larger ones. The sign above the door simply read: “Dr. Montgomery’s Clinic.”
A shiver crawled up my spine as we got out of the car. Tristan gently grabbed my arm, offering silent support with his comforting grip.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered more to myself than to him, bracing myself for whatever might come next.
He nodded and followed me inside, his hand remaining on my arm. “She knows what you’re here for. And she’s a close family friend of Malachy so…”
“Will she tell your father?”
His expression darkened for a second. “No,” he said.
