Page 21 of Blind Devotion (Letters of Ruin #1)

The marriage, in the end, served no purpose, with neither our father nor Elio Iannelli pursuing the war.

Her Irish husband wanted little to do with a twenty-three-year-old bride who wasn’t even a virgin—the dark age bastards—and she even less with him.

What it had done was restrict the part she could play in the family.

The Milieu wasn’t patriarchal, but the Irish were, meaning she couldn’t inherit a share without the mob believing it was theirs.

It left her mostly out of the businesses, except for her chemical company, where she concocted perfumes for commercial use and poisons and explosives as a side business contribution to the Milieu.

I massaged my temple, an ache from my sleepless night, and now this trot through memory lane that I had no wish to ever revisit.

“This doesn’t explain your interest in the girl.”

“Wom-an. She’s got all the curves in all the right places.”

“This a game to you?”

“Is it so difficult to understand I only want you happy?”

“Ah.” I pinched my lips into a thin line, finally understanding her ploy to play matchmaker, probably with our mother’s encouragement. If only she knew the threat our guest was. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I caught the time. Nine forty-two. Cutting it close to my next meeting.

“And you chose her because?”

I doubted Alizé knew the significance of choosing that woman over any others.

“Don’t you see it?” She lifted two two-kilogram weights and began a first set of bicep curls, her back to me. “She’s a dead ringer for Persetta.”

I stilled. Was she? I frowned, recalling the woman’s features. I rose slowly from the machine bench and prowled toward her.

“Well, maybe not the hair and probably the eyes, but—”

“That’s why you gave her the name Tessa.” The nickname stemmed from Persetta’s primary school days, when kids teased her for having a granny-like name. She got so self-conscious about it that she started having everyone call her Tessa until almost no one knew her real name.

“A little on the nose, but maybe that’s what you need.”

“What?” I snarled, dangerously close to losing my shit.

“A wake-up call. Come on, Adrien. We all know you were happiest when she was part of your life, no matter how innocent it was.”

I snatched a barbell out of Alizé’s hand and spun her to face me.

“What makes you think you have the fucking right?”

“I’m your big sister, and no matter how much of an insensitive oaf you are, I love you. I was wrong about her. I know that now just as much as I know that you need her back in your life.”

“That’s not Persy,” I yelled.

“Then do what you want with her. Fuck her or toss her out. But if you do, do us all a favor and call the damn woman that you’ve never been able to forget.”

“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

I threw the barbell against the closest wall.

The mirror along it shattered, clattering down to the ground in millions of pieces just like my control.

That woman up in my bedroom was nothing but a business liability, a loose string that I needed to excise.

She was a target, nothing more, and I didn’t need my sister’s meddling to complicate the situation further.

“Then explain it to me, Adrien. Let me in. I can help with the business. I can do more.”

“You’ve done enough.”

She flinched. “Why are you like this? Can’t you see we just want what’s best for you? Maman, Thibault, me? We’re trying to help you.”

“Mind your own love lives. How about that?”

“You know, opening yourself up doesn’t make you weak. But closing yourself off, that makes a coward.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word!” I pointed a finger at her. “You want to talk about cowards? Fix your own house before you talk shit about mine.”

“How very convenient for you.”

“It’s been over four and a half fucking years, Alizé. Three since father kicked the bucket. And not once have you made an effort to fix your marriage. Putain , you never even asked me to handle your divorce.”

“Divorces aren’t done in our circles.”

“You think I give a shit? The marriage never should have happened. If you had but asked, I would have forced the issue with the Irish.”

“It would mean—”

“Yes, it would. I might be an angry, insensitive asshole, but you’re my sister. I would have been there for you when it mattered.”

“You…you never said anything.”

“It wasn’t my business until you made it so. Just like this never should’ve been yours. So leave it the fuck be.” I made for the door. “You leave the girl alone.”

“She needs clothes,” she called out behind me, far too chipper this time. “You know, if she’s going to stay here. Some shopping would do her some good. Besides, Maman wants to meet her.”

I could practically feel the smoke coming out of my nostrils. They both needed to understand Tessa wasn’t a PR stunt. Just a means to an end. I shoved the door open.

“Or maybe some self-defense lessons once she’s all healed up. It’ll make her feel safer.”

I stilled at the door, wishing I’d thought of that and then berating myself for thinking she’d be alive long enough to even make use of them. Tessa was messing with my head.

“Oh, and Margaux called to remind us Tessa has that CT scan scheduled tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be taking her,” she called after me with a little too much tart.

“No. You won’t.”

My tone was final. While on my estate, my control over Tessa was absolute. I was not about to cede that and allow her to escape. Because she was a liability. Because I had a duty to fulfill. With each passing day, those truths became less important.