Cian is still talking—about the wedding, about Vittorio’s plans for Bee, about his rage and his spite and all the things I haveseen for far too long as nothing but petty, minor irritation—and the phone in my ear keeps ringing, and ringing, and ringing, andringing, and ringing…
I look up into Cian’s pale blue eyes as the other end of the call opens with a torrent of engines roaring and wind screaming andBee crying out, “… He’s got her, Dmitri, I’m so sorry, I lost them, they were speeding through traffic, I lost them, that bastard,my f*****g father. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”
The phone slips from my frozen hands and clatters on the desk. “You want me to trust you?” I croak to Cian. “Here’s yourchance.”
Vittorio gives me a salacious smile as I try to s
