“I’m not your patient,” I level my coldest glare at my sister and it bounces off her like a quarter offBeyoncé’s arse.
“No, you’re my brother.” Kenna leans forward, grabbing my hand. “Instead of sending men to shadow your wife, maybe you could just call her? Ya know, your wife? The woman ya married who wears your ring?” She takes another swig from my bottle. “Ah, shite. She dinna leave her ring, did she?”
“She was wearing it when she left, at any rate.”
“You’re gonna have to help me out here, Kai. I’m not getting this at all. I’ve never seen ya walk away from something or someone ya wanted. And I know ya do want Luna. I’m thinking ya love her.”
“That’s why I let her go.” Rising from my desk, I’m pleased to note I’m still steady on my feet. “I’ll walk ya to the door.”
She doesn’t move. “I’m gonna tell ya some harsh truths because I’m your sister and I know you’d likely kill anyone else for saying this. Why dinna ya want to tell Luna about her grandfather?”
“I… I wanted time. I wanted to show her that her place was here with me, with our people.” Goddamn, it sounds weak, even to me.
“I know you love your wife. But are ya able to be honest enough with yourself to see the truth? Ya wanted to be her Prince Charming. Bringing your Cinderella out of poverty, giving her a grand new life.” Her eyes narrow and she goes in for the kill. “Ya couldn’t do that if you told her she was already a princess, aye? A Mafia princess.”
There’s nothing to say. She’s right. A wave of self-loathing hits me. Am I really that kind of man?
She takes pity on me, rising from her chair and hugging me. “Walk me to the door, brother.”
Kenna pauses in the entryway, as I knew she would, and delivers her final speech. “I know because ya love her, ya let her go. That’s some noble, self-sacrificing shite right there.” She tilts her head, examining me. “I also think that if she knew ya loved her, she would come back. Luna’s in love with ya. Sloan, Cat, and I all saw it. And while she may have her own people now, the safest place for her is with family.Ourfamily.”
She’s waiting for something, her anxious eyes searching mine. I have nothing for her. “Goodnight, sis.”
Back in my study, I open the new bottle of Macallan and pour myself a drink, waiting for my Zoom call. An anxious-looking Georges picks up with a sickly, appeasing smile. “How are ya, Boss? I have your report.”
It better be good enough to keep me from murdering him. “Let’s hear it.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
In which Luna Meets the Family.
Luna…
Three days later…
“That’s a sad face.” Kurt leans against the doorway to the living room, studying me.
“Hey.” I can’t call him “uncle” yet. “Just thinking about home.”
“You don’t want to go back toIowa,do you?” He’s laughing, not particularly kindly, more like he thinks I’m an idiot.
I realize I’d been thinking of Glasgow and the boisterous MacTavish clan. Of my husband. Looking down at my wedding ring, I feel a surge of homesickness. I’ve never felt that way before, there wasn’t much in Iowa to miss once Mom and Pop were gone. But now I get it; there’s a surge inside me, pulling at me. I ache for the people who made a place for me.
Absently circling my wedding ring around my finger, I shrug and smile politely. “Iowa has its charms.”
Kurt is my least favorite of my new family. When Collin held a big dinner at one of the restaurants the Harris family owns in Napa Valley, most of them greeted me with polite disinterest or outright suspicion
All the senior members, Collin’s brothers Malcom, Jonathan, and Lucas,showed up with their wives - or mistresses - nodded to me during the introductions, and then ignored me for the rest of the meal.
A couple of the female cousins asked a few questions about my life and fawned over my wedding ring. I asked about their interests, trying to get to know them a little better, but they took one look at Malcolm, the old man in charge, and shut up, turning to gossip between them.
I get it. A big Mafia family… new relative shows up out of nowhere. Of course, it looks sketchy. Unfortunately, Kurt goes in the other direction, being overly attentive. He’s told Collin that he’d “babysit” me when my grandfather goes out on family business. Politely arguing that I’m twenty-six and don’t need a babysitter seems irrelevant.
The creepy fuck does not give off ‘uncle’ vibes. I’ve been getting my cardio in by making sure I move from one place to another on the estate to keep away from him.
There are plenty of places to hide. Collin has a small vineyard on his property where he produces small batches of what he likes to call “the house wine.” His “humble” house wine won three different international awards, which hang on the wall in his tasting room.
The tasting room is actually a beautiful little brick and slate cottage and my favorite place on the estate. The warmth of the exposed brick walls and the shining, wide-plank wooden floors make it feel much more comfortable than his enormous mansion, with all that priceless artwork and horrendously fragile antique furniture. It is constantly cold in that house, even with the warm California weather. I sneak into the tasting rooma lot with a book and sit by a sunny window. The workers don’t seem to mind.
