Page 29 of Unlawful Lies

“The Balestras.”

Yes, I knew it. Separating my feelings for Edward with the reality of who he is and what he does is a herculean task. I sink back in the seat, my gaze going unfocused.

The grainy photo slips out of my hands.

“Your family needs a leader,” Cunningham continues, ignorant of my mental stress. “Someone is going to have to step up to do what needs to be done; otherwise, we are going to disappear. Die, or be absorbed by another organization.” His tone reeked of all the things that might happen if the latter came to pass.

“Don’t talk to me like I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I’m simply reiterating for you.”

“And right now, I have a headache.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We’ll discuss this once I’ve had a chance to…”

I trail off. Once I’ve had a chance to what, exactly? Taking a bath won’t make the issues disappear or lighten their severity.

Cunningham stares at me with an infuriating mixture of disappointment and sympathy. The poor daughter. The one who wasn’t supposed to have any part of this now thrust into the spotlight and forced to do what needs to be done.

He’s looking at me like he expects me to fail.

Throughout the rest of the ride back to the compound, he speaks in terse, short sentences. Those small sentences are easier to digest, of course, but nothing penetrates the haze over my mind.

Another car waits for us in front of the house, and a chill slides along my spine.

“I’ll be in touch with you, Miss Salvatore. Do not go anywhere. Expect a phone call from me later this afternoon,” Cunningham says on my way out of the car.

Our men move into place to hold the door, but I’ve already got one foot out, and the lawyer hasn’t lifted a finger to help me.

We never even got to the typed statement, whatever demands are going along with the blackmail picture.

It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters with my gaze locked on the black town car, no doubt housing Edward Balestra in its belly.

A knot of panic and tension grows in my chest, a pit opening up beneath it and the anchor dragging me down as well. Every breath sees it growing heavier and more complicated. I’m only halfway aware of the car rolling into motion again, Cunningham leaving me alone with the guards and the empty house.

Edward is here again.

If Cunningham is telling the truth about the hysteria, then Mom isn’t here either, no doubt checked into the clinic the same way she was the last time.

We’re alone. Just me, the guards, and our enemy.

Edward unfolds himself from the back seat, sliding one leg out of the car at my approach.

“Nicola, stop. Wait!”

I refuse to slow down on my way to the door, keeping my shoulders squared and my chin tense and high. The photos and statements are clenched in my hand, my arm stiff at my side.

“Nicola, damn it. Don’t walk away from me.” The car door slams but I’m already in the house, the guard stopping at the door.

And infuriatingly, they allow Edward through. He follows me into the foyer and stops only when I whirl on him.

“What did you do?” I bark out. “What the hell is going on?”

He looks around the room, taking in the rows of dirty windows showing the lawn and the terrace beyond. Finally, he looks at me, and I’m not imagining his smirk. “Excuse me?”

“What did you do to the guards? They should not allow you inside.” I stand up straighter, surprised.

“They know I’m not a threat to you.”

---