“Where are we?” I glanced out the window, the growing darkness matching my mood perfectly.
“We’ll be landing in New Orleans soon.”
My head snapped back to Julian. “He’s taking me back home?” I stammered before realization dawned. “Mom’s funeral?”
“Yes. He knew you’d want to be here.”
“How did he know where to find me?”
“I’m not sure, you’ll have to ask him.”
I swung my gaze away to stare out the window once more. Then I thought of Gabriel and looked at Julian again. “Where’s my phone? I need to call someone.”
“Your father has it. You can call when we land.” Julian squeezed my arm lightly. “Can I get you something to eat?”
I shook my head. Every inch of me ached thinking of my mother and what she must’ve gone through. “Julian,” I paused momentarily. “How did my mom...” unable to bring myself to say it, the words trailed off.
His warm eyes ran over my face. “She was on her way out of a coffee shop and was the victim of a drive-by shootout.”
I blinked. “It was an accident?” He nodded. The confirmation didn’t sit well with me and tears sprang to my eyes once more.
Julian leaned closer, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “She loved you, you know that, right,” he whispered. I nodded, swallowing my tears. “Then remember this, that whatever happens from here on, there’s a reason for it. You need to be strong for what’s to come. It’s what your mom would’ve wanted. Your returning home has put you on the radar, just stay vigilant.”
Startled by his words, I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He glanced away and I followed his gaze. My father was watching us intently and a tiny niggle hinted that Julian didn’t want to say more. I had so many questions bouncing around in my head, not just for Julian but my father as well and my nails dug into the soft leather armrest as I fought restraint. I needed to get hold of Zayne. How?
An hour later, I was being ushered into a limo. Expecting Julian to accompany me, I maintained my composure when my father followed me instead. When we began moving, I looked at him, trying hard not to believe that this man, my father, could sell his daughter.
“Where’s my phone?”
He glanced up from his phone he’d been checking and offered me a gentle smile. “I tossed it.”
“You what?” My jaw dropped and it took everything I had not to launch myself at him. The way I was feeling right this minute, I was likely to draw blood.
“You’re back home Gianna, your old life has to be left behind.”
Unbelievable. Barely a few hours and he was already dictating my life. “You don’t get to make that decision for me,” I gritted.
His smiling face immediately morphed, taking on a darkened expression that made me flinch. “Your return puts you on the radar of some very malicious people, we need to be wary of who you interact with.”
Okay, so he’d just repeated Julian’s words. “What people? What radar?”
“All in good time.” He went back to looking at his phone then added, “I’m sure you’d like to focus on your mother’s funeral for now.”
Sudden loneliness fell over me and I turned away to look out the window, not in the least bit interested in the passing scenery. My mind working overtime on how I could call Zayne without detection. Another twenty minutes passed in awkward silence. Given I was sitting with my father who hadn’t seen me in the last ten years, I expected a little more conversation. Then I remembered that this man was merely at my side to fulfill some sick transaction he’d made, nothing more.
When the limo passed through the wrought iron gates, I looked at the house, looming on the horizon. Correction. It wasn’t a house, rather a Victorian gothic mansion set amid the sprawling acres of tall trees, the privacy they created just perfect for whatever criminal activities my father might be into. My first visit in ten years and as we approached the house, all those feelings I had growing up, came swirling back, leaving my stomach in knots and my chest a tight ball of yarn, waiting to unravel, uncertain what direction it would head. Hot tears trickled down my cheeks when I remembered my mother would not be there to greet me as she’d previously done on my return from school.
“Home sweet home,” I mumbled swiping at my tears as the limo drew to a stop outside a stone stairway leading up to large white double doors. As though the house paid homage to my dismal state of mind, an eerie gloominess greeted my entrance. Weirdly, the dark wood paneling and stone floors seemed so much brighter when I was younger, or perhaps it reflected my mother’s sparkling personality then.
Letting my legs carry me up the wooden staircase, each step heavier than the previous, I paused on the landing and glanced down the long hallway that led to my parent’s bedroom. The urge to rush there, throw the door wide open and prove my father had lied to me, grew with each breath. Hiccupping on a sob, I walked in the opposite direction toward my old room.
I opened the door and stood on the threshold for a moment, taking in the lilac, cream and white décor that once represented my childish exuberance with anything remotely close to lavender. Nothing had changed. It was like she’d retained every piece of my younger years. Perhaps as a memory of a lost childhood or a celebration for my return. I would never know. Entering, I neared the bed and flopped backward into the plush mattress. I stared up at the canopy ceiling she’d created around my bed when I pretended to be a princess for a whole year and I let the tears dribbled down my temples into my hair.
Sliding up, I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. “Mom,” I whispered on a shaky inhale. As though she’d heard my voice, a sudden wisp of her perfume filled my nostrils. My eyes snapped open, and I sat up, glancing around, stupidly wishing she were in my room even as a ghostly form.
When nothing stirred, I dropped back to the pillow and turned on my side. Her scent was stronger. Surprised, I pressed my face into the pillow and inhaled. She must’ve laid on my bed because her perfume filled my pores and the dam I’d held in check since my father arrived at my place, burst. I sobbed into the pillow, bawling my heart out, my fingers clenched around the soft material, tight enough to rip into it.
