Chapter 20

TWENTY

Angelo

"Edwards is biding his time to kill you," my father says. "You know that, don't you?"

We're sitting in the library in front of the fireplace, sipping cognac after dinner. I register the color of his skin. These days, the evaluation is an automatic reaction for me. He has a healthy glow on his cheeks from the heat of the fire. The pallid complexion of a few months ago is gone. The surgeon is happy with his recovery. My father is still learning how to breathe with half of his lung capacity, but his life expectancy has been prolonged, a gift we don't take for granted. I'm only grateful he finally saw reason and agreed to the operation.

He makes an impatient sound. "Did you hear what I said?"

I wrap my hand around the glass to warm the digestif and to release its aromas. "He knows I've set measures in place for the bribe information to go public if anything happens to me. Besides, I'll be married to his daughter before he can try."

My mother enters with a tray of the Turkish coffee my father likes. She puts it on the low table and kneels to pour the strong brew from the cezve.

"Will the wedding take place there?" my father asks.

"We'll have a legal marriage before an officiant in South Africa." I swirl the glass and inhale the scent of bosc pear, caramel, and vanilla before taking a sip. The liquor is opulent and velvety. It's an excellent brand. "The ceremony and celebration will happen here."

A coarse rattle sounds in my father's chest. "When?"

"As soon as she turns eighteen."

"Angelo," my mother exclaims in a soft voice, quickly looking up from stirring sugar into the coffee. "Not in January." When I frown, she continues, "Not a winter wedding. The choice of flowers are so limited, not to mention that we won't be able to have it in the garden and profit from the view. At least let her wear a pretty dress without freezing to death."

I consider that as I enjoy my drink. What she says makes sense. Anyway, what do I know about what women want on their wedding day? However, I'm eager to close this deal. What prevents me from saying so is the rare excitement lighting up my mother's face. She's looking forward to this wedding, which will be the first of my generation in the family.

"Would you like to take care of the arrangements?" I ask.

Her expression brightens. "It will be an honor."

"Are you sure it won't be too much work?" I leave my empty tulip glass on the side table. "I can hire a company to oversee the planning."

"Nonsense." She straightens. "I'd love to do it. We can put a gazebo in the garden. We'll need plenty of flower arrangements to add color." Her eyes sparkle. "There will have to be a band. There will be enough young people to fill a dance floor. We can have it built on the side of the gazebo and put fairy lights in the trees. Oh, and the cocktails will have to be served at sunset. The view over the bay will be spectacular. It will make very beautiful wedding photos. Champagne. French of course. We don't want your bride to think we're used to nothing. And non-alcoholic cocktails for those who are driving."

"Slow down and give me my coffee before it gets cold," my father grumbles. "You're carrying on as if the wedding is happening next week."

A flush darkens my mother's cheeks. She hands first my father and then me a cup of coffee before taking the tray and walking to the door with an averted gaze, but I don't miss the smile that tugs at her lips.

"You did right to let her handle the wedding," my father says when she's gone. "When we got married, there wasn't money. She didn't have any of that."

My thoughts go to Sabella. What will she want? A small intimate gathering or all the bells and whistles my mother has in mind? Whatever the case, I'm not taking this joy away from my mother. Sabella will adapt. She'll see my mother's good intentions for what they are.

Speaking of weddings. "When are you going to get down to the business of choosing an appropriate match for Adeline?"

As the first-born, even if only by three seconds, it's my right to get married before my sister, but Adeline shouldn't wait too long. She's beautiful, kind, and generous. I'm not blind to how men stare after her in the street. The only reason our father allows her to study in the city is because she has a bodyguard who protects not only her life but also her virtue.

"There's time." The espresso cup looks like a toy from one of Adeline's childhood tea sets in my father's big hand. "We don't have to rush. Let's get yours over and done with, and then we'll deal with the rest."

My phone rings. I down the coffee and put the cup on the side table to take my phone from my pocket. It's Roch. My gut tightens. If he's calling at this hour, something must be wrong.

I push to my feet. "Excuse me. I need to take this." On my way to the study, I answer the call. "What's going on?"

"There's been an incident."

My muscles tense. "What happened?"

"I had to pull a guy off Sabella at a party."

I stop dead. My vision unravels. Fury bursts through my veins. "Did you break his bones?"

"I didn't have to. It didn't go that far."

I resume walking. "Where is she now? Let me speak to her."

"I already dropped her off at home. I don't think it would've been the right moment for a lecture. She was crying."

Fuck.

Clenching my jaw, I enter the study and slam the door. "Is anyone going to press assault charges?"

"No. The party was at a friend's house, a girl in Sabella's class." He chuckles. "There was a commotion after I threw the guy in the pool. May, the girl who hosted the party, wanted to know who I was. She was freaking out about me gatecrashing her party. Sabella told May that Edwards hired me as her bodyguard before I could say anything."

I sit down behind the desk. "Did this friend—May—fall for it?"

"Sabella was very convincing. She's obviously not keen on her friends knowing I work for you. I get the idea she hasn't told anyone about me, not even her family, because she called her sister on the way with an excuse that the party was boring and that the chauffeur of her friend's father was driving her home."

I don't care if Edwards knows I'm having his daughter watched. He should be glad I'm taking my duties as her future husband so seriously. Sabella obviously feels differently.

"May was worried I'd tell Edwards there was no adult supervision. She said her parents didn't know she was throwing the party and that she'd get into trouble if they found out. She asked if we could keep what had happened quiet, so word of what transpired is unlikely to reach Edwards."

"Who took Sabella to the party?"

"Her sister drove her and her neighbor, Colin Taylor. Colin didn't want to let Sabella go home alone. He insisted on coming with us, but Sabella persuaded him to stay. I think she was embarrassed."

My grip tightens on the phone. I'm an embarrassment to her, am I? The inexplicable disappointment that had lodged into my heart when she broke her word to always like me hits me straight in the chest again. It's unfounded. I always knew there'd come a day she'd hate me. I have no scruples about who and what I am. I'm a devil. Scum. Despising me is unavoidable. But she said she'd always like me, and the sound of it was sweet. I didn't expect her to, but I wanted her to prove me wrong. She didn't, did she? No. She stopped looking at me like I was her hero just as I knew she would.

If not for her father's dishonorable deceit in misleading us with his false promises, Sabella could've liked me still. Now, that's water under the bridge. All of it. That's okay. Once Sabella is living with me, I'll work on softening her toward me again. Like I told her, I did what I had to do to bring us together. I'll do whatever it takes to keep us together.

"What about Colin Taylor?" I ask, grinding my teeth.

"One of his friends from school offered to drive him home."

"I don't give a fuck how he's getting home." Jealousy erupts inside me. "Is he someone I need to worry about?"

"I've been watching them closely. They're more like brother and sister than what Sabella and Ryan are."

"How was she?" I ask, hoping, needing, wanting, and hating myself for it. I'm only setting the stage for more disappointment. "When you left her."

"Sabella? Upset. Mouthy."

Upset? "Does she seriously give a damn about that fucking prick who tried to touch her?" Because if she does, I'll kill him. With my own hands.

"Not about him. She said she was going to tell him to piss off. She was angry about me. Said my interference is ruining her life." He hesitates. "Do you want me to enlighten her family about me? Maybe you should let them know I'm keeping tabs on her. That way, we don't have to lie ourselves out of awkward situations. It can't hurt for them to know you have eyes on her. It'll motivate them to be more careful about where and with whom they let her go out."

"No. It's her family. She can tell them what she likes."

In a few months, it won't matter. Make that a year, seeing that I told my mother we can have a summer wedding. Sabella will be here, safely in my bed, not that she may consider that a safe place to be.