No one could know, back then. And there’s no reason for anyone to know now.
Besides, I have no idea how he feels. And it doesn’t matter.
What happened between us was over a decade ago. It’s ancient history, practically. And there’s no need to exhume graves that have long since settled.
“Sorry.” I breathe in, stiffening my spine as I look between the two men, not allowing my gaze to linger on Elio for too long. “I’m just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night—I was up too late running numbers.”
“You need to work less.” Ronan pulls two files out, pushing them across the table to Elio. They’re thick, and Elio looks at them with some trepidation in his face. “There’s no need for you to run yourself ragged, Annie. Especially since we need you sharp, handling the finances.” He looks at Elio. “Annette handles all of the finances for the O’Malley family, and by extension, the finances involving our business partners. If you have questions pertaining to the money that’s exchanged between us, about percentages, investments, the profitability of businesses that we might move product through, or essentially anything remotely related to money or numbers, you’re better off talking to her before anyone else.”
Elio nods, a quick, jerky motion that makes my chest tighten a little.Does he not like the idea of needing to talk to me?Maybe I misread his reaction when he walked in. Maybe it wasn’t surprise at seeing me, and desire at seeing me all grown up. Maybe it was just shock to see me in the office with Ronan, like my brother’s equal. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of having to answer to a woman about his businesses’ financials.
It’s been over a decade, I remind myself, breathing shallowly. I don’t know him any longer. The boy I grew up with has been in Chicago for eleven years. I don’t know the man he’s become, how he’s been influenced, or what he thinks. I don’t know his wants or hopes or dreams anymore.
The thought makes my chest feel as if it’s been hollowed out, a deep pain tightening my throat and making tears spring to my eyes. I duck my head quickly, swallowing rapidly as I blink them away. Nothing is going to be fixed by crying.
My father always hated how easily crying came to me. How quickly I would well up when I was sad or disappointed, or angry. I was told I was too gentle. Too sensitive. Too easily hurt.
He would never have allowed me to work for the family if it wasn’t for the fact that I could be locked away in an office withfacts and figures, no confronting the violent nature of our work necessary. I could be sheltered while still providing the family with what they didn’t already have—a mathematical mind that was so quick that I was a grade ahead all throughout school.
Ronan has never said anything about it to me, but I know he thinks I’m soft and gentle too, something to be sheltered and protected whenever possible, despite his respect for my mind. And crying right now, no matter how badly I want to, won’t help that.
Elio takes a breath, flipping open the files. All of his concentration is on that now, and I sneak another look at his profile, taking him in. He’s beautifully handsome, like a Roman sculpture, still boyish, with his hair kept a little long and his smooth, unmarked skin. I curl my fingers against my palms to keep from reaching out and touching him. It feels like I should be allowed to, like, after all this time, it’s a crime against something fundamental that it feels as if there’s a gulf between us that can’t be crossed.
But with Ronan sitting here, I can’t. Especially not since what we were to each other so long ago was a secret.
If Ronan were to find out about Elio and me back then, it could change everything, and not for the better. My mind races, imagining the look on his face, the anger there, the mistrust. He would send Elio back to Chicago, I think. He certainly wouldn’t entrust him with rebuilding the ruins of Boston’s most influential mafia family after the end of the De Luca line.
It would ruin everything for Elio. And even though I no longer know him, even though I have no idea if there’s anything left of the boy I once loved, I can’t imagine doing anything that would bring him harm.
I look at my watch, needing space. Needing air. I can’t sit in this room any longer, breathing in the scent of citrus andknowing that Elio is so close to me, but still might as well be as far away as he was yesterday.
I need to think. And I have a date to get ready for.
“I should go.” I clear my throat, reaching for my bag. “If there’s anything you need me to go over regarding the takeover of De Luca’s former businesses, Ronan, let me know. I’ll be happy to jump on that work just as soon as I get into the office tomorrow. And… Elio—” My voice hitches on his name, and I swallow quickly. “If you have any questions, as Ronan said, just let me know. I’m happy to go over whatever you need in order to make the transition a smooth one.”
There.Professional. Calm. I keep my expression steady as I smile at Ronan and turn to go, feeling Elio’s eyes on my back. He says nothing, as if he doesn’t know what to say—or maybe, as if he’s glad to see me leave.
I want to look back as I reach the door. Want one more glimpse of his face in the January sun, handsome and older and once upon a time, secretly mine.
Instead, I open the door and walk out into the hall, closing it firmly behind me without a backward glance. Only then, as the clicking of my heels against the wooden floor provides a barrier for the gasp I let out, do I let the tears fill my eyes.
2
ELIO
Ifeel as if I’ve been physically stunned.
I’m glad for the files that Ronan pushed in front of me, if only so that it gives me something to focus on while I gather myself. I’ve been preparing for this day for the last two weeks, ever since Ronan called me and said that he wanted me to come back to Boston. That the De Luca heir was dead, killed by his hand for the murder of his first wife, Siobhan Connelly, and then the kidnapping and attempted murder of his second wife, Leila. Rocco was an only child, and he had no heirs.
The De Luca line was ended, and Ronan had every intention of controlling who would take up the mantle. And with it, the businesses, money, and connections that De Luca handled.
For the first time in eleven years, I was coming home.
I knew, theoretically, that I would see Annie at some point. I hadn’t heard of her getting married, surprisingly enough, a fear that I’d harbored pretty much every day of the past decade… and a fear that I had no right to feel. It’s never been any of my business if or who Annie married.
If Ronan knew how much I cared, how much I still care, orwhy, I’d be lucky to be sent back to Chicago with all my bones unbroken. In fact, I’d be luckier still to be sent back alive at all.
But I couldn’t stop my reaction when I saw her sitting there in his office.
