Page 136 of Sinful Honor

He nodded, squeezed me once more against his broad chest, then let me go. “Under no circumstances will you leave your uncle’s house. Or Ireland.”

I mock-saluted him, then turned and, flanked by my two new shadows, boarded the plane.

I took out my phone and played with it and prayed my phone call wouldn’t interfere with any avionics during take-off.

Maybe I should tell him once I’d landed safely.

I turned on flight mode and rested my head against the backrest.

The jet’s engines roared to life as we raced down the runway and quickly ascended into the air, taking us higher and higher above the clouds.

The cabin was silent, except for the monotonous, dull whir of the turbines.

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, feeling a profound peace wash over me.

I leaned my head against the cool window, feeling the vibrations of the plane hum through me, and gradually drifted off into a deep sleep, something I hadn’t experienced in weeks.

* * *

As soon as the plane touched down, I took my phone off airplane mode, waited impatiently until it found service, and called my dad.

He picked up immediately. “Sophie?”

“Hey, Dad, we just landed. There’s something important I need to tell you.”

“Okay?”

I could hear the wariness in my father’s voice. Felt the sharp pain of doom.

“Dad, I’m pregnant. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go, and I desperately need time to think things through. Please don’t hate me.”

“Hate you?” My father’s voice sounded frail and angry at the same time. “Never. But you will tell me the name of the bastard, and you will come back immediately.”

“Dad, no. Please give me a week.”

“No fucking way.”

Now he was back to booming.

“I’m not coming back, no matter what. I’m twenty, but I’ll be staying with Fiona, and I’ll be good, I promise, but I’m not coming back. I love you.”

I ended the call with a sigh, my heart throbbing. I knew he wouldn’t take the news well. But it hurt my soul to disappoint him. My father had always been my hero—and was the only parent I had left.

I looked up from my phone into two pairs of eyes. “I’m not going back, and it’s your job to protect me, not take me against my will.”

They both looked uncomfortable.

This would not go over well for any of us.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT

Inipped at my coke—sans rum, though that remained a secret between the barkeeper and myself—and looked around.

The nightclub’s cacophony of sounds and light enveloped me, the bass thumped against my chest, and laughter wove a false veil of joy. I usually avoided this place, preferred to do my business in one of the meeting rooms or my father’s old office upstairs, but tonight was different.

Cristo had called upstairs and told us Fausto had asked for a meeting.

Whatever the asshole wanted, he wouldn’t have come into my house if it wasn’t important—or he still wasn’t aware how close to killing him with my own two hands I really was.

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