I nuzzle into his chest a little more seeking. “You don’t know the new ones,” I whimper and feel my desolation echo louder than ever.
“I’ll meet them soon,” he vows. He does learn of all my demons, and he does take them on as his own, so I shouldn’t be so shocked that he’ll want to know my recent torturous devilish imps. “I wouldn’t be your big brother if I didn’t try and help you whenever I can, Amelia.” He continues to rub soothing lines and circles into my back and I finally begin to calm down enough to pull away. “I will never leave you to deal with this alone. I’m just happy you came home so I can prove that.” Before I put distance between us again, his places a hand to my chin, rubbing his thumb across my cheek to smear away my tears. “We are never past saving.”
We are all but choking angels. We have clipped wings, slipped halos, and dirty consciences. Every one of us has secrets and inner fiends that will destroy from the inside out, but we all have a fighting spirit. We are all worth saving. We have a secret yearn to be free of the devilish clutches that force us to decide between right and wrong, family and freedom, life and death.
Being an Abbiati forces you to become a dreamer. Being the fallen angel sounds alluring until you become just that and you realize hell is already burning around you.
“Amelia!” my name punctuates the air in the same way it had when it rolled off my uncle’s tongue. This time, however, my father’s voice tosses my name out. “Get to my office now!”
“Showtime,” I whisper miserably and finally withdraw from my brother’s arms.
I don’t go through the kitchen. Instead, I head through the meeting room, evading an array of worried looks like the one Enzo presented. I march toward my father’s office and find him walking toward me.
“What do you want now?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “To be honest, I have terrible jet lag and the last thing I want is another altercation with you.”
“I think we should take this to my office,” my father declares, admonishing my comments all over again. “There’s business we need to attend to.”
Great, straight home and straight back to the grind, I think to myself. “What is this? Now that I’m home, you’ll give me a new kill list?”
“No,” my father blandly replies and the look in his eyes is unreadable. He looks lifeless right now and I hate not seeing any intent in his eyes. “This is far more dire.”
“Whatever,” I state and roll my eyes. I know I must look like a petulant teenager, but I want to sort a room for Lorenzo and hop in a shower before settling back into the normality of Abbiati life. “Let’s get this over with.”
He leads the way and I follow. As always, I prepare to assume the seat I usually do – the one to my father’s right, but I find it already occupied. I can only see the back of the person’s head, but I can tell from the hair color and cut exactly who it is. I don’t need to see the face.
My heart stops dead in my chest before thundering to life. I feel my ribcage struggle to refrain from crashing out and revealing with a lover’s fool.
I reach for the doorframe as my legs weaken, and my eyes water as I utter the only thing I can, “Zane?”
CHAPTER THREE
Fuck.
I swear if I don’t calm myself, he’ll catch me staring at him, and it’ll be my biggest undoing. As the shock settles thickly on me, I wonder why Zane’s really here. I begin to feel terror rise in me as I think that this is it – he’s finally getting the comeuppance my father always thought he deserved.
The thought has me panicked and I gaze at my father who stands calmly on the sidelines just watching me. If he were dragging me here to watch Zane Maverick be slain, he wouldn’t be holding out. He wouldn’t have drawn out this moment; he would have toyed with the shock value element and killed him the moment I walked into the room.
“Amelia,” my father begins, extending a hand to me as if to get me to take it and allow his guidance. I refuse and just look at him. “Take a seat. Mr. Maverick is here on business.”
“Right,” I start to say, still unmoved from the doorway. “What business is this?” I ask, looking at Zane in the hopes that he’ll look at me and shed some light. But he doesn’t look up at me. He doesn’t even budge.