Page 73 of Diamond Devil

So I sit there miserably, arms linked with the last living remnant of my mother’s laugh, drinking in her nostalgic scent and deciding that maybe sunflowers were the right choice after all.

“I’m scared, Aunt Marianne.”

“I know,” she says, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “I haven’t lived in a world without your mother for fifty-odd years. That scares me, too.”

“She wanted to die.” I force out the words. Part of me hopes she doesn’t catch their full meaning. Part of me hopes she does, just so I don’t have to bear this alone.

Marianne sighs. “I know that, too. But the same principle applies here, too, honey: her life, her choice.”

“She can’t take this one back, though.”

“No,” Marianne agrees, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into her warmth. “But for what it’s worth…I don’t think she would want to.”

34

ILARION

I have Dima and Mila drive Taylor back to the Diamond after the funeral.

Then I spend the next twenty-four hours throwing myself into new leads, new strategies, and new revenge plots that will leave the Bellasio mafia decimated.

They’re all beautiful goals, but they succeed in keeping me distracted for only a short time. Dima’s back undercover, so I don’t have a sounding board until he returns. And Mila disappeared shortly after we got back from the funeral, so it’s not like I can get her to do my dirty work.

Which, in this case, would be checking in on Taylor.

I sigh and make my way towards Taylor’s bedroom. Technically, it’smybedroom. But since I made the mistake of putting her there, I’ve been sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs.

It feels good to slip into the familiar space. My collection of antique weapons hangs on the far corner of the room, and the sunlight streaming through the window lights them up.

Now that I think about it, housing Taylor in a room with free access to weapons might not have been the best idea. Not that any of the displayed weapons are in battle-ready condition, but they can still do some damage with the right amount of force.

But the moment I walk into the room, I realize that Taylor’s not in a fighting mood.

She’s sprawled out on the bed, her arms hiding her face as she sobs into the sheets. I should announce myself, considering she has no idea that I’m here at all, but I can’t for the life of me think of what to say.

I move closer, watching the way her sobs shudder through her body. The last time I saw someone cry like that, I’d asked them a question that changed the course of both our lives.

I won’t make that mistake again.

“Taylor?”

She jerks upright, her tears waterfalling down her cheeks. “What are you doing here?” she stammers, glancing toward the door.

“I came to check on you.”

“Oh, you care about me now?” She laughs bitterly. “That’s news.”

“I care about the health of the baby.”

Liar.

Well, maybe not entirely a lie. Just certainly not the whole truth.

She falls back against a pillow and hastily wipes her eyes clean. “Don’t be. The baby’s fine. Mission accomplished. You can go now.”

I should do exactly that. I’ve fulfilled my duty by checking on her. But for some reason, I move closer to her bed instead. “I am sorry, by the way. About Fiona.”

That takes her by surprise. “I… Thank you,” she says, appearing to think better of whatever jab she was about to make at my expense. “The funeral was… It was really beautiful. How much do we owe you? I can’t pay you back immediately, but I’ll make sure we figure something out.”

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