Page 29 of Born To Be Bad

“Oh?” says Ivy, looking surprised. I hadn’t consulted her.

“I’ve just been on a call with Sandringham. She said we’re going to fast-track getting you out of here.”

Ariana sits up, bitterness fading. “Really?”

“You’ll spend a few relaxing days at the ‘five-star cult retreat’—is that what you called it?—then you will decide what comes after that.”

“No,” she spits out.

I grind my teeth. “Ari. Hear me out, please. Just a few days of pedicures and feeding horses carrots or whatever. It’ll be a great way for you to … convalesce.”

“I don’t need to convalesce,” she hisses. “I need to get back to Sebastian.”

“Why?” I ask. “And … where is he? Has he even checked up on you since you’ve been here?”

“How is he supposed to do that?” she demands. “He doesn’t know I’m here. He doesn’t even know if I’m alive! I’m a prisoner here.”

“Ariana!” I scold.

“Don’t call me that!” she shouts back.

“You are not a prisoner here. You were about to die and Ivy,” I jab violently in Ivy’s direction. “Ivy saved your life. Then the surgeons fixed you up. What would you have had us do? Leave you to bleed out on the panic room floor? The panic room that you broke into to kill your own family?”

I feel like shouting FUCK YOU, but I restrain myself.

Prisoner. Honestly.

“Yes!” she cries. “I would have preferred that!”

I place the heel of my palm on my forehead and close my eyes. I tell myself to keep calm. I remind myself that she doesn’t know what she’s saying. That she’s not herself. But god, it’s not easy.

“Ariana,” I try again. No more spin. No more sugarcoating. “You are not currently of sound mind.”

“Fuck you!” she yells.

I thought that would hurt, but it glances like an arrow off armor. If Ariana wants to play hardball, I’m game.

“Given that you cannot be trusted to make the right decisions for you or your baby right now, I will be committing you to the facility that your psychologist recommends whether you want to or not.”

“You can’t do that,” she cries. “I have rights!”

I feel like punching something. Instead, I curl my fingers into fists.

“You lost your rights when you breached our walls and attacked my family with semi-automatic weapons. If we hadn’t taken care of you, if we hadn’t medevacced you, you’d be dead; your baby would be dead. Or in jail. You’d give birth to that baby in prison. Is that what you want?”

Ariana sneers. “The De Lucas were right about you.”

“Right about what?” I demand. “That we care about you? That we want to do what’s best for you?”

“That you’re evil!”

I can’t help snorting at this. “Evil?” I demand. “Really?”

“Yes!” Ariana yells. “Evil! And that you have to control everything! From the fucking Granite train line to the market cost of cocaine to the bodies of your women! Well, you can’t control me, because I’m not your property.” Her face is wet with tears. “I’m a De Luca.”

I want to punch something. No, I want to punch Sebastian fucking De Luca. I pace and growl. “Ivy. Do you think you can talk some sense into this woman?”

Ivy looks at me with soft eyes and an apologetic expression. “I can’t.”

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