Page 202 of Poison Vows

Each night until Giovanni’s half-hearted funeral, I stay in Scar’s suite.

If she senses the trouble between her cousin and me, she doesn’t point it out.

After the funeral, I want to leave but Emmett suddenly shows up, banging on Scar’s bedroom door in the wee hours of the morning, demanding that I come out.

“What did you do to him?” Scar asks, stunned. “He sounds drunk.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You better go out there or he’ll break that door down.”

“I don’t care. He can do his worst.” I flip over and fall into a restless sleep.

The next morning, my lawyer comes to pick me up, much to the shock of Emmett’s grandfather, Scar and all the men standing guard.

“Ivy Marie.”

“Grandpa.” I crouch down to meet him eye level. “I’m so sorry that I’m missing your birthday. I left you a gift, though. I hope you like it.”

He stares at me with a mellow gaze. “You’re leaving?”

“I miss my grandmother.”

“Tell her I said hello.”

“Yes, sir, and thank you for everything.”

Unable to help myself, I hug the sweet old man who has known more loss than most but still remains strong. “Please watch over him for me. I give him back to you.”

Getting up, I hug Scar for a long time. She wasn’t close to her father, but he was still her father and now he’s no more.

“I have a jet and a yacht. Let’s go to Japan next!”

“I’m down!” she laughs.

With one last look at them both, and the familiar men that were with Scar and I when we were hopping all over the world, I rush to where George waits for me, with his own trail of intimidating men.

“You know I’m putting my life on the line for you, right? That bastard’s strategy for war is unmatched,” George says after we leave. “If he comes after me, I’m toast.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t a game, Georgie. I turned in all my useless weapons.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbles.

“Yes, Georgie,” I chuckle. I used to call him that when were kids.

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?” he asks after a while, but I don’t answer.

There’s no answer to that.

“Just tell me when he signs the papers and the marriage is nullified.”

It’s not until I’m back in Westbrook Blues, after squeezing Grammy tightly, sharing a meal together and then dancing in the living room, do I fall apart in my room.

In the dead of night, I sob until my sheets are drenched like an ocean.

I cry myself silly, until a migraine pounds behind my temples and I pass out.

Grammy is sitting at my bedside, when I wake, soothing me.

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