By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(68)

“Thanks for your warm words, sis,” he said as he put a cigarette in his mouth. “My reputation serves a purpose. I like it when people underestimate me. It makes beating them all the sweeter.”

I shook my head with a laugh.

“What about Clifford?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to ditch him for Santino?”

I gave Leonas a disbelieving look and raised my hand with Clifford’s huge engagement ring. “I honor my promise.”

Leonas shrugged. “There are promises you should honor, and others you should ditch. Clifford is the latter.”

I rolled my eyes then snatched the cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. “Do you realize what kind of scandal it would cause if I didn’t marry Clifford? Our families made a deal. Our parents are counting on me.”

Leonas shrugged. “Promising you to Clifford was a mistake. The Clarks won’t ever be part of our family. You’ll always have to be careful what you say around him, even Clifford. You are a means to an end to them.”

“But so is Clifford to our family,” I argued, squinting into the darkness outside of the window.

“A shitty base for a marriage.”

“Most arranged marriages are built on a shitty base.”

“If you say so. You’re the one who’ll have to share a bed with Clifford.” Leonas’s voice made it clear he disapproved.

“I can handle it. I can handle him.”

“If you think so. Just know that I’ll have your back no matter what.”

I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Leonas shrugged. “That’s what family is for. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

I didn’t say anything in turn only nodded. We opened the window and dangled our legs over the sill, staring out into the night. I knew ultimately my family would always have my back. How would it be to find myself in a marriage that wasn’t like that?





I’d have never thought the day would come that I was relieved to leave Chicago and return to Paris, but the sneaking around and secrecy grated on my nerve. After our quickie in the guardhouse, Anna and I had only managed to meet for sex one more time. Two rushed fucks in two months. A dismal quote. I missed touching Anna whenever I wanted, at least in the safety of our apartment. I missed spending time with her. While we were careful not to act as a couple in public in Paris, we could still be much closer than we could ever risk in Chicago.

When we landed, I could already feel a huge weight lifting off my shoulders.

“This feels like coming home,” Anna said on our ride back to the apartment in our car. I touched her thigh and squeezed. In a weird way, it did. Chicago was still my home and would always be, but it also felt like a prison right now. Anna linked our fingers.

Dad had warned me to be careful before I left. He didn’t know about Anna and me, but he suspected something. Holding hands in broad daylight probably wasn’t being careful, even if an ocean stretched between us and the watchful eyes of the Outfit.

I squeezed her hand. We needed to be careful. There was no doubt about it. But returning to Paris had made me realize again that our togetherness was limited. I wanted to enjoy the time we had. Paris allowed me to do that, and forget about Clifford.





We sat in our favorite breakfast spot, a small café around the corner from our apartment. We had breakfast here every Sunday and spent hours people-watching.

The owners thought we were a couple. We never corrected them and eventually we started holding hands, like we did now. We’d grown careless over time, or maybe it was just that keeping a professional distance became more difficult over the years.

“I thought we could spend a few weeks in Provence this summer,” Anna said one Sunday morning in early May.

“Won’t we have to return to Chicago?”

As the first summer, Anna and I had returned to Chicago last summer as well, and I assumed it would be the case this summer too.

“It’s our last summer in France,” she said softly, her eyes strangely wistful.

Our last summer here. It hit me suddenly. Anna would be graduating next February and afterward we were expected to return to Chicago indefinitely. Fuck. I’d tried to ignore the truth, but now it glared back at me.

“It is.”

“I asked my parents if I could spend at least part of it traveling through France and they agreed. We have the first three weeks of July.”

“A last summer of freedom before you marry Clifford next October.”

Anna’s expression twisted with shock. Had she really thought I didn’t know? I hadn’t mentioned it because I didn’t want to think about it. The idea that I’d have to give up Anna soon felt like a burning arrow in my chest.

“My parents think we shouldn’t wait much longer.”

I nodded. That Dante had allowed Anna to study abroad and that she was marrying an Outsider were already bitter pills to swallow for the conservatives in the Outfit. Anna would be twenty-two next September. Time to marry in our world.

Anna glanced down at our linked hands then back up at my face. I tried to keep my expression calm, even if I felt anything but. Our time was running out and for the first time, I could practically see the sand grains trickling away in the hourglass.

“It’s still more than one year,” she said.