Page 34 of Volatile Vice
Except I don’t actually take a sip. I feign it. Let them think I’m drinking. That way they might be a little more loose-tongued.
“So Vinnie, my boy,” McAllister says. “What do you think of my lovely Belinda?”
Oh, God help me. He wants me to assess a child.
“She’s very pretty and quite talented,” I say.
Right. That didn’t make me sound creepy at all.
“She is that,” Grandfather agrees. “She looks a lot like her late mother, may she rest in peace.”
“Yes,” McAllister says. “Sienna was a lovely woman. I miss her every day.” He takes a puff from his cigar. “Already my Belinda is blossoming into a woman.” He elbows me. “She’ll be ready for you soon, son.”
A fresh wave of nausea envelops my throat, and I have to stop myself from coughing from the cigar smoke.
She’s a little girl. No evidence of blossoming whatsoever. At least not from what I can see.
Of course, he is her father. He’s watched her grow up. And even if he hasn’t, he’s probably received reports from her doctors about how she’s developing.
God, I hope that’s the case.
“You all right there, Gallo?” McAllister asks.
I swallow. “Yeah, just inhaled a bit by mistake.”
McAllister exchanges a look with my grandfather, but then they continue to prattle on.
I nod, murmur agreement every now and then as the two of them talk as if they’ve been friends their whole lives. Forget the fact that my father just killed his son.
It’s like that never happened. Like they’re old friends, comrades. And he’s giving his daughter to me.
Hell, if I threatened to take her now, he’d probably allow it.
Maybe that’s what I should do. She obviously wants my help. What better way to help her than to get her out of this damned house?
I will not marry an eleven-year-old. It wouldn’t be legal anyway, even though I know it’s done. And of course I would never touch her. Even if it comes to the forced marriage when she’s eighteen, I still won’t touch her. But I plan to have taken the family down before then.
I’ll have to think of another way to get her out of here.
“I believe she’ll make a lovely wife for you, Vincent,” Grandfather says.
They both look to me.
Seriously? They want me to comment on what a good wife a little girl is going to make me?
What do I say without sounding horrific?
“I’m sure she will mature into a beautiful woman,” I say.
There, that kept the creep factor to a minimum. But it didn’t eliminate it altogether.
“She certainly will.” McAllister swirls his brandy around his glass.
“Tell me,” I say. “What are your plans for her musical talent? Where could that lead?”
“Nowhere, really,” McAllister says. “She’ll be marrying you when she turns eighteen. But I’m sure she’ll play for you whenever you’d like to hear it. Imagine, having your own concert pianist in your home.” He closes his eyes. “I will miss that. Hearing Belinda play is one of the most wonderful things in my life.”
“Don’t you feel she should have collegiate training? She could be something great,” I say.