Page 187 of A Vicious Love

Politely, if possible.

Violently, if necessary.

I was developing sainthood by even considering the first option.

The gifts went into three cars.

One car for me and Reeves. Two for apology freight.

The flowers took their own refrigerated van because apparently romance required climate control. The jewelry came in two locked cases with biometric seals. The ballet things sat packed in soft cream tissue, which had taken a woman named Alina forty minutes to arrange before Reeves told her she could stop trembling because I rarely killed people over ribbon.

We left Harlan late morning.

The road toward the Bellemere retreat curled through too many trees. I despised the view. Eventually, after five hours. The estate gates appeared after a private bridge, pale stone pillars wrapped in climbing roses, Bellemere crest cut discreetly into iron.

Reeves was staring at the gates as if he had just witnessed my whole downfall.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“I can hear your silence.”

“I was remembering the first invitation.”

Ah. The first year.

Someone had expected me to attend because I had recently become engaged to Sienna. I had written absolutely fucking not across the invitation and sent it back. Then I had made a note in the family system.

Avoid lake cult.

I’d forgotten about that. Only to be reminded, after I grilled the receptionist for not telling me about Sienna’s retreat. That was yesterday before Celeste’s name appeared beside mine.

The gates opened.

The retreat spread beyond them like a painting made for people who used inheritance as a personality.

My gaze locked onto it on one of the signs.

House Alder → East Walk.

A fucking sign. Pointing straight to where Sienna slept. My stomach dropped so hard my fingers curled against the seat.

“Reeves.”

Reeves had his tablet out already. “Sir, I’m pulling the estate map.”

“Pull staff records.”

“I requested access.”

“And?”

“The Bellemere office declined.” Reeves did not look up from the tablet. “Their exact wording was that Crow equipment would be unnecessary and intrusive at a private family retreat.”

I laughed once.

The driver’s shoulders tightened.