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Chapter 37
The dayI return to Aplana, Jonas is waiting on the Asphodel’s porch, drinking something dark from a mason jar. He holds it up in greeting as I approach, nodding his chin.
“The king of our little underworld returns,” he says, leaning back in the white rocking chair. “How was Boston?”
“If I never go back, it’ll be too fucking soon.”
Marcelline opens the door for me, having returned to the island not long after we touched down on the mainland, noting that she didn’t feel comfortable being an accomplice to any more of my crimes. I walk past her, trying not to linger in one spot too long, unwilling to let the emptiness of the house get to me.
Moving into the kitchen, I pause in the doorway, spotting Elena’s hairbrush on the island. Her pink nail polish on the sink. The copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth that I had her read aloud to me one afternoon while I shoved my head between her legs.
Her giggles, her attitude, the way she could easily match my intellect, holding conversations with me without me needing to slow down or catch her up.
Her love.
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking a sharp turn and stalking down the hall to my office, pushing the door open with so much force the doorknob knocks into the drywall.
“I couldn’t help noticing the lack of a certain lass,” Jonas says, looking over his shoulder as if expecting Elena to materialize from thin air. “Am I correct in thinking you’ve come to your senses about this marriage?”
Pouring two tumblers of scotch, I bring them to my desk and settle in behind it, sliding the opposite one across to him. He sits in the leather armchair in front of me, accepting the glass, his mason jar abandoned.
“You’d be... correct-adjacent,” I say, taking a drink, allowing the burn of the liquid sliding down my throat to momentarily dull the ache in my chest. Scrubbing my hand down my face, I exhale slowly, circling one finger around the rim of my glass. “I dissolved the trust.”
Jonas blinks once. Twice. Three times. He swallows his drink audibly, leaning forward, his leather jacket creaking with the motion. “You what?”
“Violet’s not taking my calls, and she’s been extremely adamant about not wanting my money, or my presence in her life at all, really. What’s the point of me letting the trust sit unused, if the one person I want to have it won’t take it?”
“It’s accumulating interest—”
I nod, already aware of any angle he might go over. On the plane ride home, my grandfather’s estate attorney explored every potential avenue of funneling the money out, and while I could’ve donated it to charity, or kept it for a rainy day, ultimately I decided to buy myself out of Ricci Inc.
“Wait,” Jonas says, holding a finger up. “You bought your way out of your wife’s family’s company?”
“I wanted to retire, anyway. I’m getting too old for this lifestyle.”
Jonas rolls his eyes. “Bloody hell, mate, you’re thirty-two. Are you sure this isn’t one of those crazy, impulsive moves you make when you feel backed into a corner?”
He doesn’t have to come outright and say it, but the implication is there: like my marriage.
At least, how he saw it.
To him, it was something that appeared out of nowhere, sprung suddenly because I was being blackmailed, and needed an out.
It was reckless, and dangerous, and resulted in far more than I ever could’ve imagined.
But it, just like my decision now, had nothing to do with impulse.
‘Every single decision I’ve made in my adult life has been carefully coordinated after exhaustive consideration. I don’t take risks unless I’m sure of the outcome.’ My words to Elena all those weeks ago pop up fresh in my mind, proof that even back then, I was trying my best to be honest with her.
I couldn’t give her all the details, but I tried.
“Nothing impulsive about it,” I say, gulping down another mouthful of scotch. “I wanted out of the mafia world, and I’m taking the steps to ensure that happens.”
“You’ve said yourself you don’t ever actually leave that world.” Setting his drink down, Jonas folds his hands together, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you so special?”
“On paper, I won’t exist to these guys. When the feds come for Ricci Inc., at least I’ll be left out of it as they expunge my name from their records.” Pausing, I shrug. “My reputation, the power my name holds, though, that doesn’t go away. Notoriety is forever, my friend. I’m just stepping back from the more public aspect of things.”
Blowing out a long breath, he shakes his head. “Boston must’ve done a number on you, eh? Never thought I’d see the day.”
