Page 40

I open my eyes and stare at the phone screen, at Olivia's digital footprint through my past. This thing growing between us, this pull I feel toward her, it's dangerous.

For her.

For me.

It's a vulnerability I can't afford.

Draining my glass, I pour another, heavier this time, the bottle clinking against the crystal. What am I doing, keeping herclose? Making her a part of my life means painting a target on her back. The Iron Serpents are just waiting for leverage against me. Anyone I care about becomes that leverage.

But I can't let her go.

The bourbon doesn't dull the memory of my mother's face. It never does.

I'm still staring at my phone when I hear the soft pad of footsteps. I quickly lock the screen and slip it into my pocket, composing my expression into something neutral as Olivia enters the dining room.

She's wearing one of the dresses I bought her, a simple blue one that flares at her waist. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders. Something in my chest tightens at the sight of her.

For some reason, I need her to know that I didn't kill my father. Even if I am a murderer, it seems important that she knows I didn't do what I was accused of.

I've never felt the need to defend myself to anyone. But right now, I can't help the need to defend myself to her.

Why does it matter?

I try to shake off the thought. Redirecting.

"You look nice," I tell her, gesturing to the chair at my right.

Olivia slides into the seat, her movements cautious. "Thank you."

She watches me pour her a glass of wine, her eyes never leaving my face. There's something different in her gaze now, a new wariness that wasn't there before. She knows things about me that she didn't this morning.

"I didn't kill my father," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them.

Her eyes widen slightly. "You don't have to?—"

"I know."

A flush creeps up her neck, but she closes her mouth, waiting for me to continue.

"I was framed." I take a long sip of bourbon, letting the burn steady me. "My father and I were close. I never would have hurt him. My grandfather had just died, and my father was taking over the family. Someone didn't like that."

She swallows hard. "Is that why…"

She doesn't finish the sentence, but we both know what words are hanging between us.

Is that why I killed Damien.

"Yes."

She flinches slightly, but holds my gaze. "Why would they frame you?"

"Power. Money. The usual reasons people betray family." I shrug, trying to seem casual about the time that was stolen from me. "They wanted control of the Costello empire, and I was in the way."

"So you didn't do it." It’s spoken so quietly, almost to herself.

"No. I would never hurt my father." The intensity in my voice surprises even me. "Family is everything to me, Olivia. Everything."

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I shouldn't have looked you up."