Page 44 of Killian

Starting the day off with death isn’t so bad.

I’ve beenin New York for almost a month now. I know it should feel like home, but it doesn’t. I lived here for most of my life, but it feels strange. Like I don’t belong.

Because you don’t.

I’m not part of the Catalini business. Bash would never allow that.

I’m not a Westie either, no matter how badly I want to be. My blood ruins that.

So, where’s my place here? Stealing kisses in Killian’s bed? With Bash and his family, another woman meant to be seen and not heard?

Bash listens to what Sofia has to say.

I’ve been going for dinner more in an attempt to get to know my family again. I have noticed that when Sofia speaks, Bash listens.

Maybe I could settle back here.

No. If I settle back here, it would kill me to see Killian and never be able to truly be with him. It’s not fair to either of us to continue to hide our relationship. Not only is it dangerous, but eventually he will want someone to stand at his side.

The pang in my chest tells me how much I would love that idea.

If I can’t stay here, then do I go back home to Italy? Is Italy even my home?

Not really. I never quite felt at home there either.

The only place I’ve ever felt at home is in Killian’s arms. He’s always made me feel welcome. Like I’m meant to be with him.

Is being with him really an option?

Bash might have promised me freedom and a choice of my future suitors, but that doesn’t mean he would let me be with the Irish. Would he see it as a betrayal?

My mind is plagued with these thoughts when my phone rings.

Mom.

“Hello,” I answer politely.

“I hear you’re in New York. Were you ever going to tell me?”

I let out a deep sigh at her voice. Of course, she’s calling to yell at me. That’s all she ever does.

“Of course. I wasn’t sure how long Bash would allow me to stay.”

She scoffs, “Bash. How is your brother doing?”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spent much time with him.”

“Why are you here then?”

I grab my purse, deciding to have this conversation face to face. One thing I know is that phones are not secure. Even though our conversation seems innocent enough, I don’t want to risk it.

“How about I come over and see you? I have time right now.”

“Fine.”

She hangs up before I can respond. I haven’t talked to her in a couple months, but she seems even more surly than before.

“Enzo,” I call out. “I’m going to see my mom. You coming?”

---