Page 127 of Sweet Sin

“No, but I can see how you might’ve been. You’re still a beautiful woman.”

“I had looks on my side for sure,” she says, “but the reason I did so well in pageants was because of my talent. I was a virtuoso pianist.”

I stop my jaw from dropping. “I had no idea.”

“I haven’t touched the piano in decades. Declan couldn’t have a wife who outshined him. But I had dreams once. Dreams that I was forced to let go of. It can be done, Savannah.”

“With all due respect, you’re older than I am. Women are no longer objects in this world.”

“They were no longer objects when I was married to Declan,” she says. “But I did not have a choice, just like you don’t have a choice. Marriage to these people represents a lot more than just a simple alliance of families.”

“What else?”

She frowns. “I can see your father kept you in the dark about many things. And of course he would.”

“I don’t care about any of this,” I say. “This family stuff took both my brothers away from me. I don’t want it to swallow me too.”

She sighs, giving me another look of resignation.

She can’t answer. How could she?

It has already swallowed her up. She had to let go of her dreams, of her talent.

Now she simply exists.

She’s not living. She’s waiting to die.

“I want more,” I say, strength returning to my voice.

“I can only give you this advice,” she says. “Do not anger your husband.”

The fact that she used the words your husband instead of my son is not lost on me. Already, she has let part of her son go. She probably had to for her own sanity.

I’m on the pill. I have been for ages, but he can keep me from my pills. Somehow I have to get away and get an IUD. At least I don’t have to worry about it tonight or tomorrow. I have the pills in my purse. But as soon as I can get away, I’m seeing a doctor. I will not bring Miles’s baby into this world if I can help it.

37

FALCON

The McAllister house stands imposingly at the end of a long, meandering driveway, guarded by towering wrought-iron gates that swing open to grant access to the privileged few. The meticulously manicured landscape surrounding the property is comprised of velvety green lawns that stretch out in all directions, adorned with vibrant flowerbeds bursting with colors and carefully sculpted hedges.

The house itself is a sprawling mansion, made of equal parts stone and stucco, with large floor-to-ceiling windows fitted with tinted glass. Elaborate balconies and verandas, supported by intricately designed columns, adorn the front of the house. The roof is tiled with ceramic.

Way different than the ranch house where I grew up. This is not a welcoming house, like mine was.

This is a house that says Keep Out.

Light fixtures illuminate the exterior, and ornate ironwork and stone add elegance while also echoing its unwelcoming message.

“Yeah,” I say to Leif. “We’re not getting in there.”

Leif glances around the area. “Are you kidding me? I got through worse than this when I was in Afghanistan. One time I used a sharp piece of stale bread to make an escape from a guarded cell. I got my friend Buck out too.”

“Shit, man.”

“Crazy, I know. But I couldn’t save my pal Wolf. He was tortured, and he died in the worst way.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

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