“I promise to keep you safe.”
Pushing up on my arms, I glared directly into his face, and he brushed my hair off my forehead. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“Fine. I thought it was best to talk to them, but it could’ve happened somewhere else. I promise not to invite people here without asking your opinion in the future. And I’m proud of you for setting boundaries.” He gave me a genuine smile.
My emotions spun out of control and I collapsed onto his chest again, nudging my face against his neck, where I was safe and protected from the world. He hugged me close. “Thank you, Daddy.”
16
GIAN
I hated leavingPhoenix at the group therapy meetings, but he needed them. More than that, I firmly believed he needed more formal one-on-one sessions than what he was doing with Jericho, but he still refused to see a stranger. No, he didn’t outright refuse, because if I asked, he would go, but I never wanted to force him to do something. The only reason I left him alone at the meetings was because Jericho was in the same building, ready to protect him if needed. At some point our roles had reversed, and now I seemed to be worrying about Phoenix more than I should.
“He’ll be fine,” Jericho said to me as I focused on the hallway Phoenix had gone through. He laid his hand on my shoulder in reassurance. “Today’s get-together is a little longer. It’s a Sunday.”
I remembered, and even though I never liked it, giving him some space was for the best. “I know. Sometimes when I bring him over, he comes out to find me during the meetings. If he needs me—”
“We’ll call you immediately.” Jericho’s gaze slowly slid to the hallway I was staring at, and he sighed, his blond hair flopping over his right eye. “Gian, you know he needs this as much as he needs you, right? It has helped over the last seven months. I’ve seen him grow more confident and happier.”
I nodded because he was right. The Phoenix I’d first met would never have asked me not to invite anyone from his past over to our house. He’d finally healed to the point that he was comfortable requesting things from me, and I couldn’t be happier.
“Where do you need to be? You must be up to something, or you would be at the church today.”
Jericho’s question ripped my attention off the hallway and toward him. I winced. “I need to talk to someone.”
“Who?” He wasn’t stupid, and by the way he crossed his arms, he knew it had to do with my family.
I shook my head and touched my clerical collar, a comfort I’d indulged in ever since I’d gotten one. I’d made the choice early this morning that while Phoenix was in his group session, I was going to take Jericho’s car and go see Ric. Last week’s visit by the Greek Lords had infuriated me. Ric had been ignoring my phone calls, probably because he knew I wanted to yell at him. He hadn’t warned me the bikers were coming, and I hated that Phoenix had been with me when they’d shown up. I never wanted him to be around those unsavory types of people.
“Gian....” Jericho pressed his mouth together, jaw tightening and hazel eyes flashing in warning. “I’m a psychologist and your best friend. I know you. Which one is it?”
“Ric,” I admitted with a glare at the floor.
He winced. Toma was one thing, but Ric was an entirely different situation, especially when it came to Jericho. He knew Ric had wanted him dead, but he thought I was his saving grace. I didn’t think he had any idea what Toma had also done to save him.
“What did he do?”
I snorted. “You know I’m not going to tell you that. I’m not getting you involved again.”
“You don’t think Toma hasn’t already? Ric knows what his brother is doing, Gian. He knows that Toma scares away the men I’m dating.”
“Maybe, but he’s not telling you family business, and I’m going to keep it that way. If there is one thing Toma and I can agree on, it’s keeping you safe.”
He grunted, and I didn’t think he believed me, but it didn’t matter. If I involved Jericho in any way, Toma would kill me himself. I backed away, and Jericho watched me go. When I got to the front door, he waved me off, and I left with the car keys he’d given me earlier in my hand.
Ric lived on an estate with the humble name of Celeste View, which was in the Émeraude District about two miles from Mamma’s house, toward the west of St. Loren. The estates surrounding his were a waste of resources and beyond extravagant. These people were like royalty sitting on their thrones as they watched the peasants all around them beg for scraps.
A lot of families who lived in this area were new money, at least, as new as money could be in Louisiana. There were old-money families that lived on large plantation estates right outside St. Loren, and their family lines spanned back for many generations—they’d lived here since the war of 1812. And in the world of the rich, the new and old were two different kinds of people, and it wasn’t often they spent time together. It still burned Ric’s ass that there were parties in this city he’d never receive an invitation to.
Ric’s estate was surrounded by a tall iron fence, and guards protected the entrance. It took them a second to recognize me, but when they did, they opened the gates immediately, and I nodded at them in thanks and drove Jericho’s beat-up blue Ford along the winding driveway and toward the front of the foreboding mansion. Everything about this place reminded me of my past. I’d often found myself here, ready to kill anyone my cousin hated and prepared to do his bidding. Not anymore.
Ric’s home had a contemporary feel, with straight lines and sharp edges. It reminded me of him in a lot of ways because while it seemed expensive and simple, inside was a lot more dangerous—secret rooms and lingering death. I wasn’t even past the front doors yet and I could already smell bleach, and while I was sure it was a figment of my imagination, my stomach curdled with sickness. I’d done some horrible things here.
The butler met me at the white front doors and bowed slightly when I reached him. He’d been with Ric for a while but had stepped up from servant to managing the house and much more after I left. I couldn’t remember his name.
“Mr. Sabbatini, sir. Welcome.” He looked to be in his midthirties, at least, with pale blond hair and wide blue eyes. A mole on his right cheek was a centerpiece on his porcelain skin, and he reminded me of a doll, easily breakable. But if he was in this role, he’d proven himself in some way or another. My cousin often used dangerous men in innocuous positions.
I nodded. “Is Ric here?”
