Sempre (Forever Series #1)(118)

“It’s still wrong,” Haven said.

“Maybe, but I needed to write down the Antonellis’ address.”

She froze, her expression panicked. “Why?”

Sitting down, he brushed some wayward curls out of her face. She looked so vulnerable, and he wanted nothing more than to right every wrong and make the world better for her sake. “You wanna see your mom, don’t you?”

She blinked rapidly. “Can I?”

He ran his fingertips along her cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes glassed over with tears as she threw herself at him, knocking him back onto the bed.

* * *

Carmine punched the address into the car’s navigation system, and it led them back down the same remote highway from the night before. After a few miles, it alerted them to a path cutting through the desert, and Haven tensed a fraction of a second before the navigation system announced they’d arrived. She recognized it, he realized. She could sense it in the middle of nowhere.

Haven trembled as he crept down the path, her fear so powerful he could feel it. The ranch came into view, and she inhaled sharply as Carmine parked behind Corrado’s rented sedan.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Haven said, shaking her head so frantically it made him dizzy.

Carmine grabbed her hands. “Listen and listen good, tesoro. You may wanna run as far away from this place as possible, but you can’t. Not anymore. You can’t let them control you. You can’t let them win. You’re strong, Haven. These motherf*ckers tried to tear you down, but it didn’t work because you built yourself up. You’re a force to be reckoned with. You’re tough and passionate, and you can’t let these people get to you. That’s what they want.”

The anxiety in her expression was replaced with something else, a look Carmine could recognize anywhere: determination.

“So we’re gonna get out of this car, and we’re gonna go in this house, and we’re gonna tell these people to kiss our asses, because they can’t touch us. And you’re gonna go out there and tell your mom you love her, because you deserve that chance.”

Having said everything he could say, Carmine got out of the car. He groaned at the heat, the bright sun blinding him. Grabbing his sunglasses, he put them on and unbuttoned his long-sleeved green shirt. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

Haven stepped out timidly. “I remember it being hotter.”

“Well, I’m about to burn up,” he said. “It’s hot as Hell.”

“It is Hell.”

He gaped at her. “You cursed.”

“Hell isn’t a curse word.”

“Yes, it is.”

She shook her head. “It’s in the Bible, Carmine. If you spent more time reading it and less time tearing pages out of it, maybe you’d know that.”

He laughed, but a slamming door interrupted the moment. Haven went rigid as Carmine glanced at the man standing on the porch, his eyes a familiar deep brown shade Carmine knew well.

“If this is Hell,” Carmine said, “does that make him the devil?”

40

Michael Antonelli stood on his front porch, a glass of whiskey in his left hand and a lit cigar in his right. He wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t blinking. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.

Haven stared at him, stunned by how utterly unchanged he looked. It had nearly been a year, but seeing her old master in his khaki pants and polo shirt, too tight around his bulging gut, made it feel like no time had passed.

The tense silence shattered when the door behind Michael opened, jolting him back alive. Blinking rapidly, he moved out of the way as Corrado stepped onto the porch. “Carmine, Haven . . . nice to see you. Are you enjoying your trip?”

The nonchalance of the question surprised Haven, but Carmine didn’t appear to be put off as he answered. “It’s been fine, except for the fact that I feel like I’m being boiled alive.”

Haven smiled involuntarily at his complaining as Corrado’s gaze turned to Michael. “Are you going to invite the kids in, Antonelli, or do you intend to let my nephew burst into flames? I was under the impression you remembered how to be hospitable.”

“Oh, yeah!” Michael stuck his cigar into his mouth and opened the screen door. “Come inside.”

Carmine took Haven’s hand and led her into the house, the two of them following Corrado down the hallway to a cramped office in the back. Haven hesitated, scanning the cluttered walls. For years she had lived on the property, trapped and forced to work in servitude, but never in that time had she been in that room. Michael said it was private, his sanctuary.

Michael walked in behind them and took a seat in front of a shiny mahogany desk as Corrado stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re waiting for one more.”

Haven looked to Carmine, but he offered no explanation if he had one.

After a few minutes there was a knock on the front door of the ranch. Corrado walked out to answer it, returning with another man carrying a briefcase. Michael tensed as he eyed him, blinking rapidly. “What are we—? Why’s the lawyer here?”

“Let’s get this done,” Corrado said, ignoring the question. Haven sat down, slinking into a chair in the corner so not to make a scene. Michael glared at her from across the room, uncomfortable silence enveloping the space between them, an invisible wall of pressure separating their chairs.