Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(43)

His smile is smug. “That it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen in her life.”

He whips out a business card from his suit pocket and writes something on the back. Then he slides it across the glass case toward me.

I pick it up, read the price of the red diamond, and almost laugh out loud.

Twenty million dollars.

Flipping over the card to read his name, I say, “Tell me, Lorenzo, if you were an eighteen-year-old girl, which of the pink ones would you like?”

He frowns in confusion. “Eighteen?”

“It’s a long story.”





On the drive back to the house, Reyna is silent.

She has an expression on her face that I’ve never seen before. It’s a mix of longing and loneliness, pain and sadness.

A kind of sadness that makes her look lost.

“You want to talk about it, viper?”

She glances at me, then turns away, shaking her head. “Talking never helps anything.”

“I know a few therapists who’d disagree with you.”

“You say that like you actually know therapists.”

“I do.”

I feel her attention sharpen, but she doesn’t look at me. “Personal friends of yours, or…?”

I shrug. “I went to counseling for a few years. Tried a few different ones.”

Now she does look at me, swinging her head around to stare at me in shock. “You?”

I grumble, “Don’t make it sound so bloody implausible.”

“Not implausible, impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re you!”

“Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Did these therapists know what you do for a living?”

“No. I never talked about my work.”

“What did you talk about?”

After a moment to gather my thoughts, I say, “The meaning of life. The futility of revenge. How forgiveness isn’t for the other person, it’s for you. How to go on when you don’t have a reason for living.”

Her silence is profound. I don’t risk looking at her.

I can feel her looking at me, though, and that’s enough.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I exhale heavily. “When I was a young man, there was a time when all I did was think about dying. I wished for it, every day. I’d put myself in all these crazy situations, tempting fate.” My chuckle is dark. “I was suicidal.”

“Why is that funny?”

“Because I could easily kill another man, but I never found the guts to kill myself.”

She says softly, “Oh, Quinn. Not killing yourself wasn’t an act of cowardice. It was an act of courage. It takes so much more bravery to keep living when you’re in pain than it does to give up.”

When I look over at her and our eyes meet, it feels like I plugged myself into a socket. Electricity, snapping hot, courses through my veins. Even the air feels charged with a current. My hair is probably standing on end.

She murmurs, “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re alive.”

I can tell she immediately regrets that, because she closes her eyes, shakes her head, and turns away.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. As soon as I pull up into the circular driveway and stop, she jumps out of the car and hurries into the house. I sit there with the engine running, fighting the need to run after her.

Then I text Declan that I need something to keep me distracted for the next week.

Preferably something violent.





17





Rey





The rest of the week flies by.

A rep from the Vera Wang atelier in Manhattan comes to the house with wedding gowns for Lili to try on. Since we don’t have enough time to have a custom dress made, we have to buy something off the rack and have it fitted. Luckily, Mamma is an excellent seamstress and can do the adjustments.

Lili runs to the restroom twice to throw up and breaks down into tears three times while trying on dresses. But we get through it and decide on a gorgeous A-line chiffon-and-lace gown. The skirt is flowing with a short train, and the bodice is detailed with sequins and seed pearls. She looks like an angel in it.

A teary, miserable angel.

When I ask her how she’s holding up, she says darkly, “You don’t want to know.”

The last time I felt this helpless, a premeditated murder was right around the corner.





On Friday, the day before the wedding, we fly to Boston on Gianni’s jet. I’ve packed everything Lili will need to start her new life. Except for antidepressants.

She has a wild, desperate look in her eyes that I don’t like.

With a dozen armed guards in tow, we check into the Four Seasons under an assumed name, taking the presidential suite for the four of us. The rest of the rooms on the floor are empty, because Gianni made sure to book them all.

Paranoia is driving him crazy.

He still doesn’t have any idea who the men were who invaded the house. Despite all his power and his contacts in the underworld, he hasn’t been able to unearth a clue.

The lack of information is unnerving. There’s always someone willing to talk for a price—or be persuaded to, under threat—but not this time. No one seems to know anything.