Page 6 of Blind Devotion

“Not anymore, she isn’t, but whatever you say. You’re the boss.” I felt him staring at me, needling for another reaction. He wasn’t going to get one. “Damn all, fine. You’re no fun like this. Elio’s dead, about five months ago.”

I tried my hardest to feign disinterest, not moving an inch, not breathing.

“Killed by his own son, if you can believe it, and that ass is somehow holding the Iannellis together despite it. Call her. She needs you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Her mom’s dead, too, Adrien.”

That caught my attention. “How?”

“Committed suicide a couple of months before Elio was killed. Persetta hasn’t stepped foot outside their family home since then. Nobody has heard from her. Nobody has seen her. As far as my information goes, she didn’t attend either funeral. Over half a year of locking herself up in grief. You might never be able to be with her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help her through this.”

“That. Is. Enough.” I refused to open that door again. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

Erel settled beside me, joining me in my placid stare at waves that went to and fro with no defined purpose except to be. We drank. We listened to the muddled peaks and plunges of frivolous conversations in the living space at our backs.

A clonk against the port side hull of the boat near the stern broke the monotony. Our heads snapped in the direction of the sound. Again, there was another pointed thwack along the hull, closer this time.

Without a word, the two of us stalked toward the sound. My men, registered as bodyguards for the sake of the authorities, stepped out from their positions against the glass windows encircling the indoor dining area, hands upon their holsters. My hand itched to grip my own guns locked in the armored vault below deck. All I had was my pocketknife.

With politicians and the upper echelons of society eating up my generosity onmyyacht, all illegal firearms were safely stored far away from prying eyes. The sacrifices I made for the pretense of perceptions. Tonight, I was an impeccable law-abiding French citizen. A joke, really—everyone here was aware of my family’s unsavory business activities—but impressions and status made the obscenely wealthy overlook the obvious.

“See anything?” Erel whispered.

I shook my head. One of my guards bent over the railing, gun poised in front of him. He signaled us over with the opposite hand as he lowered his gun.

“Just debris, sir. Nothing else.”

I followed his gaze over. A fragment of waterlogged lacquered wood floated near the hull of the boat. With another wave, it collided against the hull with a loud thunk. Like he said, debris.

“Have someone fish that out before it causes a dent.”

“Of course, sir.”

Erel joined me at the railing. “I don’t see where it could have come from.Kulmiperhaps?”

There was nothing on the horizon except for blue sea, a few clouds, and the sun. Not even the birds flew this far out.

“Let’s check in with the captain in case they heard distress signals.”

“And what? Race to their rescue?” Erel questioned on a snort.

“With this lot”—I gestured my head toward the guests in the salon and dining rooms— “any publicity—”

A screech cut me off.

“The stern,” Erel said.

The four of us took off at a jog.

Chapter 3

Almostthere.

My head rested against the scorching hot swimming platform of the boat. My chest heaved. With every stretch of my arms, my body screamed in protest. So close.

I just needed a little break. Just enough to gather more strength to pry my dangling legs out of the water.