Chapter 52 52

Chapter 52 52
Vivian's POV

The penthouse in which Celeste lived was not at all like the Gold Coast mansion. Dominic’s place had been dark wood and heavy furniture, Celeste was glass and chrome, minimalist everything, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. It felt more like a very expensive hotel room than a home.

Unspoken, Celeste was mourning in classic Celeste fashion. She was drinking a glass of wine near the window, which she wasn’t drinking, and she stared out at Chicago with eyes that didn’t see it. I had never seen her without a firm grip on life, but today she looked fragile, even breakable.

“You ought to get some rest,” I said softly, taking a seat across from her. “You’ve had a rough day.”

"I'll rest when this is over. When Dominic is safe. When Cassius is dead. Once this hell is over." She turned to look at me. "Which might be never."

For a moment, we sat in silence on the hard cot, both of us sorting through the madness of this past day. Marcella's death. The federal raids. Cassius walking free. Things were spinning further out of control than anyone could handle.

“You love him,” Celeste blurted out suddenly, her words jarring the silence between them. Not a question. A fact she was stating.

"I do not know what I feel," I answered, but the plea rang feeble even in my ears.

"Yes, you do. You’re simply too scared to acknowledge that to yourself.” Her eyes were black and bored into me with discomfiting precision. "You love my brother. He’s done everything, he is everything, and you’re in love with him.”

Maybe she was right. Perhaps I had crossed that line inadvertently, without intention. "Is that bad? In this world?"

"In this world, yes. Love is the most perilous possession you can have. It makes you vulnerable. It provides your opponents with weapons they wouldn’t otherwise have.” Her voice carried bitter experience. "Look what happened to Marcella. To our mother. Both of them dead because somebody wanted to hurt the men they loved.”

"But you still love him. Your brother."

"I do. Which is why I worry all the time. Why I see threats everywhere. Why I can’t sleep most nights.” Celeste spun around to face me completely. “If things turn south make me a promise.”

"What?"

"Take care of him. Look after my brother. Because he will not take care of himself. He is going to fight till there’s no fight left in him, until he’s fought himself out of being.”

Before I could answer, before I could understand what she was asking me, phone rang. Unknown number. I’d had too many of these in recent months, and none brought good news. I nearly didn’t take the call, but for some reason, I picked up.

"Hello?"

It was Veronica’s voice, familiar as an ache. "Hi Viv. Time we actually talked. Face to face. Not with your monster husband breathing down our necks at every couple of words you speak.”

"Veronica, where are you?" I got up and walked to the window, I couldn't be close to Celeste during this conversation.

"That doesn't matter right now. The only thing you need to care about is I can help you. Pull you out of this whole mess. Away from Dominic. Far from all of this peril and tumult.”
“I don’t want to escape from him —”

"Yes, you do. You’re simply too frightened, or too brainwashed to pretend to yourself.” Her tone resonated with that oh-so-comfortable combination of condescension, as if she knew my own life better than I did. "He's destroyed you, Viv. Can't you see that? You're not even yourself anymore."

I moved a bit away from Celeste to ensure she couldn’t hear. "Why now? Why is this what you decide to give a shit about all of a sudden?”

“Because, despite everything that has happened between us, in spite of all the animosity and the anger, you are still my sister. That must mean something.”

“You have a really weird way of expressing sibling love.”

"I know I messed up. Running away from the wedding. Leaving you to fill in for me unprepared.” For once she sounded even a little sorry. "I was scared, Viv. Absolutely terrified. Of Dominic. Of what that life would mean. Of losing myself completely."

"And now?" I spoke softly, mindful of Celeste in the next room.

“And now I see what it has done to you. How trapped you are. How much peril you are in.” She paused. "Meet me tomorrow. Noon. Grant Park by the fountain. Just you. No guards, no Dominic, nobody else.”

"I can't just leave. Dominic has guards posted—"

"Then lose them. Slip away. This is important, Viv. More important than you realize."

“Why can’t you tell me now? Over the phone?"

"Because whatever I have to say, I need to be saying it in person. I have to have a look in your eye.” Veronica’s voice was lower, more urgent. "And because I have information. About Cassius. About what he's planning next. And if you don’t listen to that, if you don’t do something about it, people will die. Including you."

Before I could react, the line was cut. I sat there holding onto my phone, the implications and possibilities swirling through my head. Was this concern, or manipulation? Did Veronica know something, or was this a trap?

When I re-emerged into the living room, Celeste read my tension. "What's wrong? You look pale."

"My sister. She needs to see me tomorrow."

"Don't go." The response was immediate, definitive. "It's obviously a trap."

"She says she knows something about Cassius. About what he's planning next—"

"Then she can tell Dominic. Or tell the police. Or anyone except you specifically.” Celeste stood, her expression hard. “Why does she have to sound you out herself? What on earth could she want except to hurt you or string you along?”

It was a good question. One that I had no acceptable answer for.

"I need to think about this."

"Think quickly. And think smartly. Sentimentality about blood relatives should not cloud your judgment. Just then, Celeste’s phone started ringing, breaking the chain of our talk. She picked up, and I saw her face go white. "When?" A pause. "I'll be right there."

She hung up and took her jacket. "That was the funeral home. They want me down there about Marcella's plans. Final decisions about the service."

“Would you like me to go with you? For support?"

"No. Stay here. Rest. Just let everything soak in.” She moved toward the door. "I'll be back in a few hours. Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”
Once she was gone, I was in the penthouse with guards waiting outside but no one on me, watching. I wandered the room with Veronica’s voice spiraling in my brain. Information about Cassius. People dying. her voice never sounded urgent, almost sincere.

I took out my phone and looked at it for a while, considering options. Then, I did something that I was sure was dumb but that also felt morally imperative. I texted Veronica: "I'll come. But if this is a trap, I swear to God —”

The reaction was swift: “It’s not a trap. Come alone. Don't tell anyone. Especially not Dominic. Trust me, Viv. For the first time in your life, have a little confidence in me.”

I read the message, the plea for faith from someone who had shown herself to be utterly untrustworthy. Trust Veronica? After everything she'd done? After leaving me, after threatening me, using me?

But what choice did I have? If there was some small chance it had real information, if this might help to defend Dominic, or prevent whatever Cassius was planning... shouldn’t I take the chance?

The following day I made plans to sneak away. I already felt guilty about what would be my deceit.