She’s so angry she can hardly speak. “This stupid, childish obsession of yours—it will stop, Edward, one way or another.”
“I’m twenty-three, Mom, I can do what I want.”
I’m surprised I can even get the words out. I’m surprised I canwalk; my legs feel like they’re about to give way, and I wish my voice sounded a little firmer.
“You are leaving Los Angeles. You are going to your father. You can take a job in that company he’s so damn proud of, and you will forget all about—this.”
She tugs me by the arm, leading me to a side entrance.
“Stop it!” There’s a lull around us as the crowd turns to look at us.
She lets go of my arm, but I’m still pinned by her cold blue stare. “Get out of here,” she tells me softly. “Go home and wait there for me.”
I pull away and head to the serving area, pulling off my name tag as I do. The team leader who was coordinating servers isn’t around, and I’m not sure what to do.
Maybe I can just leave without saying anything. There are so many servers, maybe no one will notice. Or care.
It took a complex web ofCute Crimsmembers to pull in favors and loan me parts of their CVs for me to cobble together my own. Pepperoni_lover in particular came through with the name of the catering company for the engagement party tonight. I told theCute Crimspeeps that I planned to get photos of the Family members attending, which meant I had a bunch of really enthusiastic and obsessed fans doing whatever they could to help me out.
Say what you will aboutCute Crims, but it definitely provides a service that people are looking for.
Of course, I kept my real plans to myself. My only goal was to find Lina Lamond and tail her.
And…yeah. Maybe I hoped Alessandro would be here, too.
Idefinitelydidn’t expect to run into my mother. I knew she headed up the FBI’s anti-organized crime unit in LA. I even knew she was looking into the Castellanis in particular—the other day when she turned up at Redwood Manor when I was there, I panicked. But why in the hell is she at this—
A hand closes around the back of my neck, another seizes my upper arm, and I’m frog-marched past the exit door and into a small side room with a few broken chairs stacked in one corner. I stumble over to the wall when the hand releases me, and hear the door slam shut. Leaning up against the opposite wall, one hand splayed against it, I keep my eyes on the floor and try to count the threads in the carpet.
If I don’t look up, maybe this won’t be real.
“I think perhaps there were a few things you forgot to mention,” says the low, silky, dangerous voice of Alessandro Castellani.
I glance up, but cringe and look away just as fast. He’s breathing fast, his hair falling forward on his forehead. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen the true anger of Alessandro Castellani, the legendary rage that people fear, that they talk about in hushed tones.
And now that fury seems fixed onme.
“I can explain.”
“Oh, yes,” he lilts. “Yes, you will explain, little mouse. Or are you, in fact, a little rat?”
I look up at that, angry myself. “I would never tell anyone—” I’m cut off as he stalks close to me, and I press myself flat against the wall. He’s trembling just as hard as I am.
I don’t think that’s a good sign.
His hands are clenched tight at he stares down at me. “You—” he starts, but he can’t seem to find the words. “You,” he says again, but he can’t seem to get any further than that.
“Let me explain,” I beg him. I dare to put my hands on his chest. “Please, Alessandro. I can’t help who my mother is.”
He puts both his hands on the wall behind me, leaning down as though to kiss me. But he doesn’t kiss me. “I can’t believe I—” Once again, he breaks off, an incredulous laugh warbling out of him. He looks wild, his dark eyes fiery, the deepest black heart of an inferno.
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” I whisper. “I’m not ever supposed to tell anyone who I am.”
“And who are you?NotEdward Blair MacCallum,” he spits.
“Edward Blair Anderson MacCallum,” he says. “But my mother never wanted people to know I was her son. I’ve been living a lie most of my life—lying about who I am. Who my mother is.”
He pulls back, something changing in his face, and I wonder if he’s thinking of his own childhood.
