Page 76 of Violent God

Greer nods. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know how much Les has told you about the Brotherhood, but their golden rule is that their members are married.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Charles was married before Aimée. After his first wife passed away, the Brotherhood was quick to match him with Aimée. It’s been the same with almost every other member of the Brotherhood except for Les.” Her pause is long. “There are exceptions, of course, but why haven’t they wanted him to marry?”

“You have thoughts?”

She nods. “I believe they are worried that they’ll lose control of Les if he finds love.”

Something in my chest pulls at the mention of love.

“Do you think he’s found it?”

“You tell me.” The smile fades from her face. “Which makes me worried for you. They’re going to try everything to break up your relationship with Les. And god knows if anyone in this world can ruin something, it’s the Brotherhood. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

She rolls her suitcase out of the bedroom, and I follow.

In the living room, Aimée huffs. “The two of you were gone long enough. Did you find interesting things to talk about?”

There’s a sly look in her eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was there all along.

Greer smiles. “Of course we did. You know me. I can make a friend anywhere.” To me, she says, “It was a pleasure, Isabetta.”

“Ditto.”

Aimée looks back and forth between the two of us, like she’s trying to figure out what’s changed or if we’re being sincere. The thing is, Icansee myself being friends with Greer.

The two leave and I fall onto the chair by the window with a loud sigh. Well, that was a lot.

Donna peeks her head around the corner.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Moretti?”

“I’m fine.”

She enters the room slowly. “It’s not my place to say anything, but those women are vipers.”

I snort out a laugh that comes out sounding like a sob. She rushes to my side, reaching for my hand.

“I’m okay, I promise. Greer seemed nice.”

“Ms. Blanc has her moments, but Mrs. Blanc doesn’t.” She squeezes my hand. “Do I need to call Mr. Moretti?”

“Heavens, no. I don’t want him to worry about me while he’s out of town. Iwouldlike to let the front desk know that they aren’t to let visitors up unless they speak to me first.”

“That can be arranged. Now, let’s get you dinner.”

“Thanks.”

I try not to dwell on Greer’s words, but it’s hard.

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