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“No,” I say, holding up my hand. “End of discussion.”
His jaw works as he stares at me. I glare back at him, willing him to back down. I feel like a prisoner already—I don’t need him searching my only friend for hidden weapons. If I can’t trust Phel, I can’t trust anyone, but I refuse to live in a world where danger lurks everywhere.
His expression softens as his eyes lock onto my hand. “You’re not wearing it.”
I don’t know what he means at first until I follow his gaze.
The wedding ring.
“I figured we didn’t have to.”
“Asteraki mu—”
“The second you put on yours is the second I put on mine.” I tilt my chin up, challenging him. “I’m still wearing the engagement ring. But I won’t wear the wedding ring until you do.”
He doesn’t like that, but I’m past the point of caring. With him, it’s too hot then cold, too deep then shallow. One second, it’s like he can’t keep his hands off me, and the next he’s spending more nights away from home than in bed with me.
One second, he talks like I’m his wife, hisrealwife, and he’d burn the city down for me.
Then the next, I’m only some temporary stand-in, a stopgap before the real thing.
“I wish you would reconsider,” he says finally.
“I won’t.” I turn away then head back to Phel and Helen. “I’d appreciate some privacy with my friends.”
“That’smysister,” he points out.
“Still a friend.” I wave him off, smiling to myself. I don’t get to win arguments with him often, but it feels good when I score a point.
Chapter43
Evander
Every muscle in my body groans with weariness.
Days spent patrolling. Nights spent hunting. Every moment of every waking hour is accounted for. I’ve thrown myself into the war with the Italians with every ounce of my being, killing as many of their men as I can, ruthlessly taking the fight to their doorstep.
I’m breaking myself to make them suffer.
And I’m breaking the city too.
The heat’s on. The cops are out in force, threatening to bring us all down if we can’t find a way to stop the violence.
I still don’t care.
“You’ve been single-minded lately, Evander.” Mother walks beside me, her hands clasped behind her back. She wears a long black dress, flowing and loose, her hair pulled up and tucked under a broad-brimmed hat. We stroll through the flower garden on the far side of the house, away from where Camille visits with Helen and her friend, Ophelia.
“Our enemies are closing in, Mother.” I glance up at the sky. “I have to admit, I worried about this exact situation. I stressed about getting into an all-out shooting war with the Italians. Now that it’s here, I find myself enjoying it.”
She clucks her tongue. “That’s not becoming of a crime lord like you, Evander.”
“Am I not supposed to want to ruin our enemies?”
“You are supposed to want to further the fortunes of the family.” She glances at me, her eyes guarded and hard. “You aren’t supposed to go to war over a girl.”
My jaw works. “She’s my wife.”
“Is she? Don’t look at me like that. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
