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Somewhat.
I run a hand over my face. “I’ve been going over that day over and over again in my head,” I whisper hoarsely. “Why would they take Celine? She doesn’t have anything to do with whatever dispute they have with Ilarion.”
“Yes, but the Bellasios got wind of their engagement. They see Celine as a bargaining chip they can use to control Ilarion,” she explains.
I hate that it makes so much sense.
“What about my dad?”
Her expression remains hard to read, but I get the feeling she’s trying not to upset me further. “I don’t know, Taylor,” she hedges after a long, hesitant pause. “Maybe they took him as insurance. I can’t claim to know what Benedict Bellasio’s plan is.”
I shake my head. “Celine can’t have known about all this. The Bellasios, the feud, any of it. She would never have gotten involved with Ilarion if she’d known.”
Mila raises an eyebrow. “Or maybe you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do.”
“You know, I’m getting really sick of people telling me that,” I snap, jumping to my feet. “Maybe you guys are the ones who don’t know us.”
“Okay.” Mila follows me with her calculating gaze. “You think you know your sister so well? Tell me: how will she react to your pregnancy?”
My hands flutters to my stomach automatically. “I… That…” I take a deep breath. “As far as I’m concerned, Celine doesn’t have to know who the father of this baby is. But she’ll be happy for me nonetheless.”
I feel like an asshole for even thinking it, but that’s the only path forward that I can see.
Mila nods. “There’s things you don’t tell your sister. Well, maybe the same is true for her, too. You can know a person your entire life and still not reallyknowthem.”
“Who hurt you?” The question flies out of my mouth before my brain can even register it.
I expect her to avoid answering, but she meets my eyes levelly. “My mother was the first. My father was the second and the last. The only person who has ever had my back is Ilarion. Which is how I know he’ll get your sister back. Whatever my brother does, he does for the family. For his Bratva. And he doesn’t let emotion get in the way of what he knows he must do.” She sighs and rises to her feet. “Now, I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to pick the flowers for your mother’s funeral. We can’t linger here forever.”
Something nags at my brain as I follow Mila to the front of the store.He doesn’t let emotion get in the way of what he knows he must do.Mila might think that’s a positive characteristic.
But it scares the shit out of me.
“Well?” Mila says when we’re faced with the florist. “What’s it going to be?”
“I want yellow,” I tell the lady behind the counter. “Yellow sunflowers. As many as you have.”
“Yellow?” The florist looks at me, a bit uncertain. “Are you sure, ma’am? People usually go with white for funerals.”
Given how I feel right now, I’d be picking out rotting black flowers if I could find them. But this is not about me or what I want. This is about what my mother would have wanted.
And she wanted to go.
The least I can do is make her last moments above ground a little bit brighter.
31
ILARION
I’m in the gym pushing through the burn of a bench press when Dima finds me.
He’s dressed in a scruffy black hoodie and ripped jean shorts that end just above his knees. “What the hell are you wearing?” I scoff, looking at his clothes with distaste as I rack the weights.
“Kiss my ass, man. I was undercover.”
“As what? A douche-y high school jock with a room temperature IQ?”
Dima rolls his dark eyes and sits on the bench across from me. “Do you want to know what I found out or not?”
