He shook his head angrily. ‘There will be a future, when this is all behind us.’

‘Behind you, maybe,’ I told him, stepping back so that my back grazed the stray branches of a bush. ‘But not behind me.’

He came towards me, pushing the warmth back into the air. ‘Do you want to talk about it, then? I’ll talk about it until my voice runs out. Do you want me to tell you I’m sorry a thousand times? I am sorry that it hurt you and that it changed the way you look at me. I hate that you look away when I try to get your attention. I hate that you pull away from me when I get close to you. I hate that I can see the moment when you remember your uncle and your voice turns cold. I hate that what my family stands for drove a wedge between us. I hate that that’s how we were brought together. I hate that I’ll always question whether it would have worked if we had been from the same world. I hate that I hurt you, but I had to do what I did. I can’t apologize for that. Jack would have killed Luca. He would have killed me. It was about my family. It was about protection. It’s no different to what your dad did.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’ I reeled from his final words. ‘You can’t compare the two like it will get you off the hook or something. You know what my dad did was an accident. That was different.’

‘Was it?’

Had the wind stopped blowing? Suddenly I was back at Felice’s house, staring into Valentino’s cold cerulean eyes, listening to him question everything I knew about my father, about his intentions, about his soul.

Venom dripped from my answer. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

A shadow flickered across Nic’s face, bleeding deeper into the pools beneath his eyes. He ground his jaw and swallowed the words forming in his throat.

My voice went deathly quiet. ‘Do you have something to say?’

‘Never mind.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m tired. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.’

‘You’re not the only one who’s tired, Nic.’

‘I know,’ he said, switching back to the Nic I was used to. Calm, quiet, focused. He lifted his arm as if he was going to reach out to me, but then caught it in mid-air and curled his hand into a fist again. ‘It’s hard seeing you and knowing it can’t last. I just … I had to.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I guess we can’t go on pretending the warehouse didn’t happen.’

I shrugged. ‘He survived. You all did. For that, at least, I’m thankful.’

Nic unclenched his teeth. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘What?’

‘Do you know who’s hiding Jack?’ he repeated, his voice softer. Honeyed. As if softness could ever mask his meaning.

I blanched. ‘Nic, this is not something I’d ever discuss with you.’

Something happened – so quick I almost missed it – but his chin snapped up, and his eyes flashed with something. ‘Just give me something, Soph, so we can be prepared. Please.’

‘No,’ I cautioned. ‘Don’t put me in this position.’

‘Is he with the Marinos? That’s what Valentino thinks. But I said there’s no way they’d take him in. It’s Eric Cain, isn’t it? He’s got connections with the Irish mob in Boston. Or are there more? Has the Golden Triangle Gang re-banded?’

‘Is that why you came here?’ I asked. ‘To sweet-talk me into revealing my uncle’s hiding place?’

‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘Of course not.’

‘Then why ask when you know how sour it will make things?’

‘Because if we don’t know who’s hiding him, we don’t know who might be coming for us.’

‘Has your family been following me?’ I asked, as the purple-haired girl dropped into my mind. ‘Do you think I’ll lead you to him or something?’

‘What are you talking about?’ he countered, bewilderment creasing his forehead. ‘Of course we haven’t. I promised you we’d never do that again.’

‘And yet here you are, still trying to get information out of me!’

Nic muttered an Italian curse. ‘Come on, Sophie. I was just asking.’

I turned from him. ‘I’m going inside now.’

‘Wait.’ He skirted around me, his frame suddenly wide and tall in the doorway. ‘This kind of went off-track.’

‘Did it?’ I asked, crossing my arms in front of me. ‘Or did you just forget to be less obvious about it this time?’

He took a step, and before I knew it, his hands were on my arms. His shoulders slumped, defeated. ‘I’m an idiot. I’m the world’s biggest idiot. I just wanted to see you.’

I knew if I stayed this close to him for another minute, if I let my defences drop any further, then I’d be the world’s biggest idiot. ‘Goodnight,’ I said, sliding out from beneath his grip.

By the time I’d shut and locked the kitchen door behind me, he was gone and the sensor light had flickered out. I pressed my forehead against the window and wondered how badly he had wanted to see me tonight and how deeply he needed to know about Jack. Had it been desperation or longing that drove him to me?

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE MANSION

The next phase of my mildly successful social rehabilitation was to meet Millie at the diner after her morning shift ended. I had texted her about Nic’s garden visit right after it happened. The entire incident was, in my best friend’s measured response, a ‘giant no-no’, a mistake that necessitated ‘further and immediate action’. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get the Falcones out of my head, but I was glad she was willing to help me.