Page 13 of The Burnt Heart

“Of course, we know who you are, Harold Downer. But we signed a contract. You can’t do this to us.”

The crowd parted and I could see the handsome man who had been dancing with Adelaide sidle up next to her. Her face turnedup, and she patiently accepted what were obviously effusive compliments. Harold followed my line of sight with a sigh.

“That is my son, Raimondo. I’m glad Adelaide is unencumbered enough to reconnect with him tonight.”

The bright lights were spinning, and I had to press my hand to my stomach to stem the nausea.

“I don’t understand.” Logan shook his head. The immense man looked like he had been whittled down to a shard of glass. Brittle, breakable. Easy to shatter.

“I’m afraid it’s a long story. But I must confess, my name is Harold, but Downer is not my surname. It’s Donato. That must ring a bell, surely.” The older man’s eyes twinkled, and he failed to smother a sardonic grin.

Fingers dug into my arm, so sharp that pain shot through my body. Logan moaned protestations, his weight tumbling into me.

Harold Donato. The head of the Donato crime family. The direct rivals to Adelaide’s empire.

My head whipped toward his son, still looming over Adelaide. Standing lecherously close.

Raimondo Donato, who had almost been her husband.

“H-how? Why?” I couldn’t manage full sentences. White noise was blaring inside my skull.

“The how of it was surprising,” Harold boasted. “I didn’t realize how pampered Adelaide kept you three. But you didn’t recognize me, and I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Adelaide is the perfect woman, and I need her more than you do. Like I said, it’s business.”

I lunged toward Harold, intent on tearing his throat out with my teeth if I had to. Men in suits converged and muscled me back with ease. Harold tilted his head, like the sight of us breaking down in front of him meant nothing. He never had any intention of giving us the money. It had all been a ruse to makeus break Adelaide’s heart. So, his son could swoop in to pick up the pieces?

My thoughts were fragments, broken into unintelligible pieces. There was nothing coherent about the words he’d just spoken. Part of me refused to even consider it because that would mean we had been played. Harold had used us to break the heart of the woman we loved.

“If you love her, let her go with dignity. She’s an Orazio, and she deserves better than three men who don’t have the legacy to match hers.” He had the nerve to nod before presenting his back, as if he hadn’t just gutted us.

The room spun, and the glamorous lights blinded my vision. We’d made a huge mistake. In our desperation to best Antoni Orazio, I’d let another monster take advantage of us.

“I’m going to be sick,” Logan muttered. We looked like mirrors of shock. Harold had turned my world on its axis with his blithe words.

“He tricked me. Tricked us,” My voice croaked as I watched Harold wade through the crowded floor and over to Adelaide. He kissed her cheek and crowed over the award nestled in her arm. This was all my fault; I was the one who he approached. Who fell for his proposal. How could I have been so stupid?

“How are we going to fix this?” Logan grabbed me again, like I somehow had magical answers on how to make this right. Raimondo and his lying father surrounded my girl, blocking her from view.

Like she wasn’t even there anymore. Briar made a choking noise, like he was about to empty his stomach. I didn’t want to leave, determined to speak with Adelaide and explain myself. I wouldn’t let her go, not at Harold’s urging. Briar retched again, loud and urgent.

“This isn’t over. We need answers from Briar and Adelaide is too angry to hear anything we have to say tonight. We have no choice but to fix this tomorrow.”

Logan’s mouth dropped open, aghast. Someone jostled against his shoulder and a grimace crumpled his face.

“You want to leave?”

“Of course not,” I hissed. “I want to storm over there and haul Adelaide over my shoulder. Or lock her in a room until she agrees to forgive us. But Briar is about to hurl, and Adelaide wants to plait our intestines to hang as decor. What do you think we should do?”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, and I knew he agreed. As hard as it was, we had to walk away.

Tomorrow, we would make it right.

7

Jesse

1 Year Ago

“Oh-ho-ho.” One guy belly laughed as he unfolded the letter I’d shoved in my back pocket. “What have we here?”

---