Except she’s not Sophie.
In fact, she’s the opposite of Sophie in every way. Loud where Sophie is quiet. Brash where Sophie is gentle. Cold where Sophie is warm.
She’ll never look at me the way Sophie does. She’ll never make me want to be better than the monster my father raised me to be.
But she’s what the family needs, what this whole fucking war has been leading up to.
I down the drink. Ashlyn pours another.
The Irish are still talking ports, territories, and percentages, but all I can think about is Sophie waiting for me at the safe house. Probably in bed in her flimsy little tank top, hair up, tight little shorts on her hot ass.
Or maybe she’s on her knees on my side of the bed, waiting to take my cock in her mouth the second I walk through the door.
Maybe she’s fallen asleep with her hand between her legs, thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about her every fucking second since I left.
I reach for another drink, and another, trying to drown the image of Sophie’s face when I tell her. Trying not to imagine the way her eyes will go dark with hurt, the way she’ll bite her lip to keep from crying, the way she’ll probably still smile and sayI understandbecause that’s who she fucking is.
Sweet. Generous. Too good for me. Way too fucking good for me.
“To Vin and Ashlyn!” Ronan raises his glass, grinning like we’re celebrating instead of signing my death warrant. “May your union bring prosperity to both our families!”
The table erupts in cheers. Ashlyn’s hand tightens on my shoulder. Her perfume is seeping into my clothes, marking me, erasing every trace of Sophie’s scent.
I drain my glass and reach for the bottle.
By the time I stumble out of there hours later, I’m too drunk to drive, too drunk to think, too drunk to do anything except stare at Sophie’s name in my contacts.
My phone buzzes in my hand with a text from Matti:
We found Aurelio.
It’s time.
It’s time.
I order a ride share without responding to Matti. I can’t go back to the safe house smelling like this. I can’t look her in the eye and destroy her tonight.
But I will destroy her. It’s what I do best: destroy beautiful things.
46
Sophie
The kitchen at Dragovari Tower is warm, fragrant with oregano and garlic, and I’m in my element. Siena’s birthday deserves something special:osso buccowith saffron risotto, her absolute favorite, plus roasted vegetables with balsamic glaze and a tiramisu that I made last night.
I’m arranging the antipasti when Giovanna waddles in, one hand on her very pregnant belly. “Sophie, this smells incredible. How do you do this every time?”
“Practice,” I say, smiling. “And love. Lots of love.”
The party fills up quickly. Siena glows, only weeks from her due date, while Matti hovers protectively. Tommy keeps refilling Giovanna’s sparkling water. Some of Siena’s friends from her old job are here. Even Valentina is here, draped across a chair like a bored cat, her eyes tracking and judging every movement.
Olivia, the adopted sister of Vin and his brothers, helps me carry platters to the dining room. She’s sweet, hilarious, fun and nothing like the hardened men she calls brothers.
The only one missing is Vin.
I keep glancing at the door, my stomach tight. He never came back to the safe house last night and I haven’t heard from him all day. But when I found out that Matti and Tommy weren’t with him, I texted him about the party. He didn’t respond.
“Sophie, sit with us,” Siena calls, patting the couch beside her. Giovanna and Olivia are already settled, conversation flowing.
