Over the next few days, I’m treated to soreness on a level I’ve never experienced. Training with Sergio intensifies. He teaches me to hit, punch, kick, but most importantly—how to get my body out of submissive positions. I’m okay with the soreness. The muscles in my legs and arms scream at night, serving as a reminder I’m getting stronger. Strength equals power.

It gives me leverage.

I’m not stupid; I know the training sessions won’t make me invincible. If he wanted to, the killer could take me out from a window with a long-range rifle. There’s nothing I’d be able to do to stop it. But he does have a weakness. He enjoys torturing Serras before their deaths. Terrifying? Definitely. But it means a quick, clean death is not in my cards. A messy death is easier to escape, because a messy death leaves room for error.

In the passing days, I don’t hear from Casper, which is more disappointing than I’d like to admit. Every time I think about him, my heart aches with the need to hear his voice, to simply feel comforted by his presence. Find a reason to need me. The memory of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I can think of lots of reasons, none of them worthy enough to warrant a phone call though. I consider calling him anyway, but…pride. Stupid pride. I get in the way of myself, tripping and stumbling over my own feet. Then again, he hasn’t called me either. It’s been almost a week. The guy stormed in and out of my life, leaving no time to even take a breath, and now he’s just…gone. I don’t know what to think.

No one in the house mentions Casper’s name either, which is even more frustrating. It’s like they want me to forget him. Make him disappear completely. Maybe it’s for his own good. If he’s away from me, he’s not in harm’s way. God, I don’t want to, but I think I should let this go. Allow Casper to be the guy who transitioned me from point A to point B and move on.

I still haven’t quite figured out point B though. Life here in London is different, but I haven’t settled into my own rhythm yet. Everyone else has their own schedules, jobs, and mundane life stuff going on. Me? Nada.

Hugo and Carousel own a bakery. During the day, they spend their time working, Hugo on the front end of the store, dealing with customers while Carousel bakes. I give them my background at Penelope’s, hoping they’ll employ me since I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to sustain myself living in London. The sale of Gran’s house hasn’t gone through yet, and my funds are limited.

When I mention my need for a job, Hugo says, “Oh, that reminds me. Your dad opened a checking account for you. He deposited twenty thousand pounds. That should be enough to get you by for now, eh?”

“He did what?”

The way he said that, so casually, almost makes me fall out of my chair. Like twenty thousand pounds is a paltry amount of money. We’re eating breakfast at the kitchen island, just the two of us, because he’s an early riser and my sense of time is still off. Viviana is still asleep and Carousel already left to open the bakery.

He lifts his orange juice to his lips, gulping down half the glass in one swig. “You just graduated from university, right? We assumed you were broke.”

“Well…I am.” I frown, stirring blueberries into my oatmeal. “But I don’t want money from someone who refuses to speak to me.”

“About that,” Hugo clears his throat, “He wants to meet you, but doesn’t want to introduce himself over the phone. He’s agreed to come to the wed—ahem, family get-together next weekend.”

“So he’s just okay with me being here?”

Hugo shrugs. “You didn’t really give him much choice, now did you?”

Why does that question make me feel guilty? No, I didn’t give him a choice, but he didn’t give me one either when he sent me off to live with Gran, keeping me ignorant about the rest of my family. Allowing Gran to lie to me.

“Now that you’re here, he agrees you should stay. You’re already linked to us; it would be risky for you to leave. I know this was only supposed to be a visit, but you should consider living here. Indefinitely.”

Live here?

I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but really, aside from a few friends, I don’t have much waiting for me back in Tampa.

Hugo gently pats me on the back. “Just think about it, okay?”

“And my dad wants me here?” I ask again, still skeptical.

“Yes, but don’t let that deter you,” he says, chuckling. “Leo is as much rebellion as I can take from you kids.”

Apparently Leo and Dad have butted heads many times over the years, putting Hugo in the middle of their arguments. Those arguments stemmed from Leo refusing to play it safe. His motto is no fucks given, which infuriates the whole family, but mostly our father. After Leo changed his last name back to Serra, the two of them didn’t speak for almost a year.

“Amelia, you’re Renzo’s daughter, and the baby, at that,” Hugo says, sighing. “He’ll do anything to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“I’m still not spending his money,” I say stubbornly.

“Suit yourself. Just know it’s there if you need it. This time of year is slow for the bakery, but I’ll see if we can fit you in a few shifts per week.”

“Thanks, Uncle Hugo.”

I’m determined to come up with other solutions. I’ll ask Tess to sell my Honda, for one. She’s not going to be happy. She’ll know it means I’m not coming back to Florida, at least not anytime soon, but she’ll do it for me anyway. She’s a good friend like that.

On Thursday, Viviana and I take the bus to Westfield to shop for dresses for next weekend’s get-together. After a while, I notice the only ones she selects are black. “Is black like, your thing?” I ask curiously.

“My thing?” She scrunches her nose. “Definitely not. Black tends to not make people stand out in a crowd.”

I adjust my purse strap over my shoulder. That should have been obvious, the whole not wanting to stand out is a shared trait between family members.

“This is a secret wedding, right?”

“Get-together,” she corrects, looking around as if people were listening. The shopping center is the size of a small town, but her demeanor is a teensy bit overkill. Or who knows, maybe my own paranoia hasn’t evolved to her level yet. Dozens of shoppers stroll past, flooding the walkways. We are out in the open, easy targets. Great—now I’m getting nervous.

Shaking away the feeling, I say, “Since it’s a secret and all, why don’t you branch out? Try something different?” My mind transforms into a palette, dozens of colors flashing over Viviana until I decide on the perfect one. She looks a lot like me, but her skin tone is cool and subdued whereas mine is warm and earthy. “Violet would be pretty on you.”

She considers the suggestion. “You know what, you’re right. It’s just family and close friends—I can step out of my box for one night.” She looks over at me, beaming. “This is nice. I’ve missed this.”

“What? Us doing the whole girl bonding thing?”

“Yeah. We haven’t done it since high school.”

“I know.” The Madelyn identity may have been a façade, but she looks the same, laughs the same, and is basically the same person, minus the accent. “I’ve missed this too,” I say, genuinely meaning that.

Three hours later, we arrive back at the townhouse with the addition of two new dresses. Incredibly, we each found one in our best colors. Her, violet. Me, red.

There’s a FedEx package on the front stoop, which Viviana scoops up as we head inside. As she locks the door, all I hear for several seconds are slides and clicks of metal. I hadn’t noticed how many deadbolts are on the door—five in total. Five locks. Plus a chain. The house is also equipped with motion detectors and a security system even more advanced than the one Gran set up for us back in Florida.

“Hey, this is addressed to you,” Viviana says, handing me the package. “Who’s it from?”

Sure enough, it has my name on it. “No idea.”

Once we’re inside, we go straight to the kitchen, setting our bags down on the island. I tear open the package.

“Oh my gosh, is that a—” Viviana gasps, practically drooling. “It is.”

“It’s a tablet,” I say, wondering who sent it and why.

“That’s not just any tablet. It’s a Wacom MobileStudio Pro. Those bad boys cost about two grand.”

“Two grand?” I’m so shocked, I almost drop the thing. “Why would someone send me a tablet worth that much?”

I flip the box around, checking all around the sides, and then again inside the package it came out of.

“Check inside the Wacom box,” Viviana says, sounding just as impatient as me.

Unfolding the tab, I slide the box open, revealing a pristine tablet with a scribbled note attached to the front on a small card.

I stop breathing for a few seconds. The handwriting is exactly the same as in the note Casper left on my car.

Why would he—

How could he—

Viviana clucks her tongue. “Looks like someone had a good night at the casino.”

“How do you know it’s from him?”

“Oh, come on.” She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “You’re forgetting that not only are we sisters, but at one time we were best friends. Nothing escapes my notice, as much as I pretend otherwise for Leo’s sake.”

“It didn’t escape his notice either,” I grumble, thinking of the way Casper kissed me right in front of him.

“You’re admitting something is going on?”

I look up, realizing I just stuck my foot in my mouth. Then, I think—why not tell her? She was always the person I could talk to about guys.

“There’s a lot less going on than I’d like there to be.”

She grins. “I knew you liked him.”

I pick up the stylus pen, wondering if it will feel similar to painting. “I can’t believe he did this,” I say, catching the sound of my own amazement.

I don’t get how the same guy who hasn’t called, texted, or communicated with me in any fashion whatsoever can send me such a thoughtful, expensive gift.

Unless…

It could be a goodbye present.

The thought makes my whole chest tighten. I don’t want to believe that, but at the same time, it does give me that impression. A consolation, to make up for his inability to offer his heart.

Viviana lets out a small sigh. “This is seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I live with Hugo and Care, who are the biggest cornballs you’ve ever met when they’re actually speaking to one another. God, I’ve never known Casper to be this way. Not even with—” Her voice falls flat, and she quickly changes the subject. “Do you realize all the things you can do with this tablet? The pressure sensitivity is out of this world.”

“Not even with who?”

She swallows, looking away. “It’s not my place.”

There’s a tiny sting in her words, reminding me we’re not only loyal to each other anymore, like we were in high school. Casper is like family to Viviana. She’s respecting his privacy. I both love and hate that she’s doing it.

She opens the fridge, sticking her head inside. Either she’s looking for food or avoiding the conversation, but my guess would be the latter.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” I ask, hopeful. Because as much as she wants to protect his privacy, I want to invade it. God, it’s crazy, but I want to know everything about him.

“You hungry?” She asks, shuffling things around in there.

“No.”

She comes back with a yogurt and a spoon, eyeing me warily. “Ugh. Why does it have to be him?” She laughs at her own question. “Then again, why wouldn’t it be? Aside from the fact that he’s gorgeous, he’s also really freaking nice. Any girl would be crazy not to like Casper.”

She hops up on the island next to where I’m standing, feet dangling, and peels back the foil lid on her yogurt.

“What’s wrong with him?” I say, setting the tablet aside.

“He’s just not the guy I would choose for you, Milly. He’s…” She looks up at the ceiling as if she’s searching for the right words. “God, I don’t know any other way to put this. Falling for him would be like trying to build a dream with someone who is living a nightmare. The guy is screwed up pretty bad. He needs to heal. He needs to figure out how to love himself before he can ever try to love someone else.”

Well…wow. That’s depressing. Casper never struck me as the type who was dealing with heavy issues. My heart aches for him even more. “But you can’t tell me why?”

She shakes her head, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

Exhaling a long breath, I look down at the tablet. “Do you think I should return it?”

“No,” she says, snorting. “First of all, Casper doesn’t exactly have a home address. Second, this is the tablet to end all tablets—you’re definitely letting me use it. Lastly,” she pauses to sigh, “I think he would be hurt if you gave it back. Say thank you next time you see him and leave it at that.”

Sound advice, if there ever was any. I hate every word.

I hate that I can’t know the reasoning behind it, but I also know Viviana would never steer me in the wrong direction. Those short-lived moments with Casper can never evolve into anything more. This is just the way it has to be.

Viviana takes a bite of her yogurt. Her eyes suddenly spark, and she waves her spoon in the air. “If it’s any consolation, I just came up with a great idea. Leo is going to Dublin tomorrow to meet with one of Daddy’s Irish clients. Care and Hugo are leaving for France to prepare for the wedding. That means you and I will be totally unsupervised—we can have a girls’ night out.” Her voice lilts mischievously at the end, and she wags her brow.

A girl’s night out?

The only girls’ nights out I’ve ever been on involved rom-coms, shopping, and early curfews. Viviana is talking about something entirely different. Something my gran would never have approved of. Something our brother sure as hell wouldn’t approve of—if he knew about it.

“Are you in?” She’s practically bouncing up and down as she waits for my answer.

“It um…sounds fun. Do you think we’d be safe? I mean, with everything that’s going on?” God, I sound like a downer. Why can’t I just say yes like a normal young adult?

“Nothing for us will ever be safe,” she admits, licking her spoon. “It’s up to us to decide if that makes life not worth fully living.”

Live fearlessly. The words echo in my ear, cheering me on.

“I’m in,” I say, grinning. “Let’s do it.”