On the first floor, I pass a private lounge and catch the eye of Daniel Kim, the CEO of some Silicon Valley tech startup. His faded t-shirt and jeans belie the shrewd businessman beneath the casual facade. He’s young—not a single wrinkle mars his face, and his black hair is thick and entirely natural—but good at what he does.
I can respect that.
He’s here meeting with content creators to discuss the launch of a new product his company’s working on.
With a grin displaying perfect white teeth, he waves me over.
I’m not in the mood, not after my morning, but I change my trajectory anyway. I won’t let this hotel’s reputation for warm hospitality falter.
Before I cross the threshold, my pace slows. Premonition douses me with a frosty chill.
A similar but much smaller premonition than the one I experienced as a twelve year old, just before I walked into our house and found my mother dead on the couch.
Like a curse, my phone buzzes against my leg.
Lenora, probably texting about the kitchen fiasco.
Please let her be texting about food.
After I read her message, my stomach careens down to the marble floor.
Get to the front asap. Passed an issue on my way out.
Pulse spiking, I toss a quick apology to Daniel Kim and power walk toward the hotel’s main entrance and lobby.
Right in time to spot my father strolling through the door.
Long, arrogant strides featuring too much swagger. Two nicks in his left eyebrow, a scar on his right cheek. Lips fixed into a smug half-smile that broadcasts exactly who he is and what he’s capable of. Cold, cruel eyes that promise pain if he fails to get his way.
Declan Gallagher in all his messed-up glory.
For most of my life, my father’s loomed over me like a dark, menacing presence. Someone I’ve feared to varying degrees for as long as I can remember.
Once I moved out on my own and tasted freedom, I grew desperate to live my own life. When I discovered the Cypress, assembled a business plan, and approached Dear Old Dad for a loan, I was intent on seizing this chance to escape home, strike out on my own, and build a future that belongs only to me. A chance to separate myself from our family’s less savory side.
I should have realized that using his money would trap me beneath his thumb for the rest of my life.
My younger brother trails him, a little behind and on the left.
At twenty-seven, Brody’s now an enforcer who reports to our father. That truth leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Has ever since he and Connor both started doing Dad’s dirty work.
My brothers were never going to win any citizenship awards—you don’t come from a family like ours and spend your free time volunteering with Habitat for Humanity or signing up for the Peace Corps—but if not for our father’s influence, they could’ve been better people.
None of us are perfect, but…
Once upon a time, I rocked Brody to sleep. He wouldn’t rest unless someone sang to him.
And now he’s all grown up. Tanned skin littered with scars. Sharp, calculating hazel eyes. Muscles honed by street fights and contract killings.
I used to feel his little heartbeat against my chest. We were so close. Now I can barely get him to smile at me. Not when our father’s around.
He exists in our eldest sibling’s shadow. Connor is even further gone, deep in our father’s clutches. As a result, Brody competes in an endless attempt to prove himself to Declan, to the detriment of almost everything else.
Behind Dad and Brody loom two of their goons. One’s a tall, wiry man with a sinister sparkle in his eye. The other one is stocky with a semipermanent sneer and mangled ear. His real name is John, but since a few too many hits to the side of the head left him partially deaf, most people call him Shout.
If I had my way, I wouldn’t call him anything, because he wouldn’t exist anywhere in my immediate vicinity.
He’s rude, presumptuous, and sleazy. I’ve caught him staring at the women on my staff—some barely over eighteen—far too often.
