Page 15 of Welcome to the Sins of Blackstone
He studies me carefully, then leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I love you, my sweet girl. You are like my only child, my greatest blessing. I have done everything inmy power to shield you from the darkness of this town, from the violence and the politics.”
I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I’ll regret.
He continues, “The Irish, Liam’s family, they won’t let go easily. They will not take this lightly, and they will make sure their enemies suffer.”
I flinch at his words, I’ve always known that Blackstone Hollow isn’t just a town, it’s a battlefield disguised as a community.
“I won’t be happy with Liam,” I whisper.
His lips press into a thin line, as if the weight of my words have given him pain, the last thing I want to do.
“I need to think about this,” he finally says. “But if this is truly what you want, we will need to speak with the Messinas.”
A rush of relief floods through me.
“Uncle—”
He lifts a hand to stop me. “This isn’t just about love, Maria. It’s about power. Your choice has consequences for all of us.”
I nod. “I understand.” My voice is small, because I know this can turn ugly for not just me, but my uncle.
He sighs again, standing from his chair. His movements are slower, as if the weight of this decision has aged him all at once, and now I feel like the worst niece in the world.
“Go freshen up,” he says softly. “Let me handle this.” I hesitate, but then nod, rising to my feet.
Before I can walk away, my uncle reaches out, gently grasping my hand. “If I do this, if I go against the Irish for you, you need to be absolutely sure.”
I meet his gaze. “I am sure.”
He keeps his eyes locked on mine.
“I’m sorry.
His grip tightens slightly before he lets go. “Never say sorry, and God will help us.”
Chapter 8
Massimo
Ican feel the weight of my father’s presence beside me. His posture, rigid, calculating. My mother, silent but observant, sitting across from him. My Uncle Lorenzo sat to his right, arms crossed, the air around him thick with unspoken tension. When we got the phone call, my father called his brother, because we had a feeling this was going to be something he needed to agree on too.
We aren’t in the Messina house. We’re in his house, Father Dominic’s home. The priest. The man who holds more power than people realize.
And standing in the far corner, quiet, hands folded neatly in front of her, is Maria.
The girl who kissed me back, who had trembled beneath my touch but hadn’t pulled away. The girl who now looks at me like she doesn’t know if she’s about to lose herself or everything else.
Her uncle clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him.
“I won’t waste your time,” he starts, his voice even, but I can hear the strain in it. “I come with a proposal. One that under different circumstances should have been discussed much sooner.”
My father doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, and neither do I.
“My niece is to be married,” Father Dominic continues. “An arrangement was made with the O’Brien’s long ago. A marriage that by all accounts will keep the peace for me.” His jaw clenches. “But my niece does not wish to marry Liam O'Brien.”
Silence. A long, heavy silence.
The one question roaming in my head: why would Maria marrying into the O’Brien family bring peace for him? The church is in our town, they can’t touch it.
