Aunt Julia—my adoptive mom—paused in her steps, Olivia held in the cradle of her arms. They were a starkly contrasting pair, with my sister having black curls and dark eyes and Aunt Julia having blond hair and blue eyes.
“It’s ill-mannered to keep them waiting, Cade,” she said with a frown and a gentle smile, imploring me to understand. “We’re already late as it is.”
What she really wanted to say was:Why haven’t you stopped smoking yet?
It’d been seven weeks since they officially adopted us. Paperwork that should have taken them months—hell, even years—to achieve in Canada, they did within weeks. Money was power and living with them had its perks, but it was clear we hada rulebook of bullshit etiquette to follow at home and in public.
One of them being the no-smoking rule.
Yet it was the only way I could cope with everything. The stress. The nightmares. The aftermath of it all.
I almost added that we wouldn’t have been late if Uncle Vance—my new adoptive dad—hadn’t insisted on fucking his wife in the cigar lounge before we departed. I was walking to the kitchen for a snack before dinner—how uncultured of me, I know—when I heard them going at it like frenzied animals. Unfortunately, I lost my appetite and learned that my new parental unit had a breeding kink. Thankfully, no one besides their butler caught me dry heaving outside the door. So, last I checked, being late was all on them.
Instead of saying that, I answered, “If I don’t smoke now, I’m going to be cranky when we get inside, and I’m sure you don’t want me to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
Josh came to stand beside his mom and ruffled Olivia’s hair in an adoring manner, while the latter smiled at him toothily. I liked how quick they got along and how affectionate Josh was towards my little sister. After what we’d been through, she deserved all the love in the world.
“Cade, please.” Aunt Julia sighed and cast her husband a look of concern as he rounded the front of the car to join us.
Based on his unimpressed expression, he heard the smoking part.
Vance Remington, South Side’s notorious kingpin, could be best described as robustly muscular, very tall, and a charming but scary motherfucker. We had the same features with dark hair and blue eyes and I suspected, once I turned forty-two, I’d be a carbon copy of him. Aunt Julia claimed I already looked like a teenage version of her husband.
Uncle Vance was intimidating without verbalizing it. A lesser man would have cowered in his presence. I just stood myground, hell-bent on smoking at least one cigarette before going inside.
“The answer isno, Cade.” He cracked his neck on either side and adjusted the button of his suit, which effectively concealed all his weapons. “I asked you to stop smoking and you refuse to even try. I don’t care if you start to get irritable during dinner. We are going in now.”
And what he really wanted to say was:Why are you so ungrateful? I’ve given you a roof over your head, food on the table, a stable home, and you refuse to follow my one crucial rule.
Uncle Vance growled one, “Let’s go,” and impelled everyone to head in the direction of the awaiting Cordova staff.
But I was already walking backwards in the opposite way. “Sorry, Uncle Vance. What did you say? You’re cool with me smoking? Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
I ignored the chilling way he hollered my name and stole to the side of the mansion, towards a secluded garden filled with roses and fancy angel statues. I pulled out a cigarette from my pocket, lit it with a flick of my Zippo, and sat down on an ornate iron bench.
And that’s when I sawher.
Standing in her stone balcony, she perused the gardens with an otherworldly expression on her face, as if searching for something intangible in the far distance.
Instantly, I felt breathless by the sight she created.
She was beautiful like a summer night sky scattered with thousands of little stars. Long black hair billowing softly in the air, dewy tan skin, and slender frame donned in a short white dress that made her resemble a folklore goddess.
As though I’d spoken those thoughts aloud, she finally saw me.
Our gazes clashed from afar like a magnetic force beckonedus.
Tilting her head, she eyed me with a hint of curiosity and…mischievousness. A joint was neatly tucked between her fingers and she brought it to her pouty lips, taking a slow hit as she watched me in a way that could only be described as intimate.
It made me feel bare and raw. Like all my scars were visible for her to see.
Maybe she wondered what a strange guy in an all-black suit was doing sitting in her garden, watching her like she had created the very universe we lived in.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
This moment felt sacrosanct. A fated tryst between lovers in a dark fairy tale.
We continued to watch each other as we smoked. Her, as a challenge. Me, as I tried to figure out where I’d seen her before.
