I swivel on my toes and make for the door, my neck awakening with goose bumps as soon as I turn my back on his charm.
“Come on, amore mio,” he calls after me, the Italian words spoken with a pristine accent. “We could help each other.”
I don’t stop.
“With the spying,” he adds, louder, drawing the attention of four nearby women who hush their table conversation to stare at us with curiosity.
I halt, my feet rooted in place, not only because he’s outing me in front of staff and strangers alike, but because he’s potentially offering me something I want. Something I desperately need—a way forward with my Costa plans now that I’ve been discovered.
Footsteps approach behind me and I suck in a ragged breath when his warm hand comes to rest on the small of my back, his woodsy aftershave teasing my senses. “I have a room at the Lydell Hotel two doors down. They’ve got a great bar. Let’s go there and talk.”
4
Layla
Two years ago
The silence is stifling as my husband’s casket is lowered into the ground, the descent of the shining steel box seeming to steal the gossip from the mouths of those in attendance.
Stella nestles closer against my side, my daughter’s tears soaking into the black material covering my hip, her lone sniffle sinking deep into my heart to stab at my composure.
I breathe it in. Her agony. Her suffering.
I take all the misery she releases into the world and make it my own because it’s what I deserve.
Then, all too soon, the service is over.
Benji is buried. Gone. His all-encompassing life was summed up in a few paragraphs.
Tissues are shared, words of condolence are given out like cheap candy, and the whispered rumors that follow once the guests walk away brush against the outer edges of my hearing, poisoning me further.
The entire scene plays before me as if through a stranger’s eyes, the depth of my grief barely felt over the strangling claws of guilt at my throat.
I killed my husband.
I may not have pulled the trigger, but I caused the lethal blow.
I stole happiness from those I love, replacing it with sorrow. And I’m not sure I can redeem myself to them, let alone forgive myself for the mistakes.
After the mourners leave the cemetery, Stella and I follow where my brother leads, Cole’s hand guiding me from the crook of my arm until we’re in his sports car. Nobody speaks. We barely breathe, the air around us now tainted by my callous decisions.
Once we reach his house I’m left to stand alone before the glass doors leading to the manicured gardens, a head full of unrelenting nightmares and a heart carved from jagged glass.
Stella and Tobias sit at the dining table, playing a subdued board game. Their similar ages have made them inseparable, which is nice. They’re thankfully both young enough to be easily fed lies to cover up the truth of Benji’s murder, but unfortunately, they’re old enough to be scarred by my actions regardless of the cover story they were told.
The people I call family are on nearby sofas, discussing mundane things I can’t fathom while my world collapses around me. I don’t deserve to be a part of their lives anymore. . . At least, that’s the way they’ve made me feel.
I don’t belong here even though I’d beg until my last breath to stay.
I’ve never been so lost. So alone. Without support. Lacking grounding. I’m loathed by everyone, despite how they hide their contempt behind sympathetic glances and sad smiles.
I’m no longer trusted or appreciated. Well, except by my daughter, who knows nothing of my loathsome betrayal.
My perfect little girl will be forever haunted by my actions but, God willing, she will never learn I sold out my own brother to a father who based his moral code on the devil himself, which caused a chain reaction resulting in my husband’s death.
A death that will forever weigh upon my shoulders.
Footsteps approach behind me and I stiffen, my lungs painfully tightening at the thought of company.
There’s only one person it could be. The heavy steps. The willingness to reach out. My suspicions are confirmed when I see Cole in the reflection of the glass door, the faint touch of my brother’s palm coming to rest on the back of my neck.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. We both know words won’t change what I did. Nothing will.
There’s little comfort to provide a woman as pitiful and vile as me.
“Thank you for arranging the beautiful service. I think Benji would’ve been surprised at how many people attended.” I pretend as if most of those who came to mourn didn’t arrive merely to snoop. I’m well aware the majority only wanted to learn how a healthy, middle-aged man passed from a supposed heart attack.
“He was your husband,” he states flatly. “He received a family burial.”
“Even though you think he didn’t deserve it,” I whisper.
I can hear it in his voice. The thinly veiled resentment. The biting betrayal that still lingers.
“We both know he didn’t. But this lifestyle is nothing if not a masquerade to the masses. We all do what needs to be done.”
I wince, not only at the games that have to be played, but the ones I don’t want to participate in.
I turn to face him, my pride in my throat, my heart on my sleeve. “I need to ask you for something.” I have no right to request anything. I don’t even deserve to maintain my place in this family. But… “No, not just ask.” I shake my head. “I’m begging, Cole.”
He straightens as his hand falls from my neck. “What is it?”
The request scorches my throat leaving scars in its wake. “Nobody here deserves to be put through any more destruction. Our father and I have already caused enough damage. We need to think of Tobias and Stella’s future.”
His brows pinch, as if he’s waiting for me to inflict a verbal blow.
“I don’t want you to chase revenge over what happened to Benji.” I suck in a breath, strengthening myself against the increased judgment in his stare. “At least not now, while our wounds are still raw. I need you to promise there’ll be no more bloodshed. That the danger surrounding the children won’t intensify. Let the kids grow a little older first. Let them have some peace.”
Those brows dig deeper, his silent opposition settling between us.
“I’m pleading for you and Luca to let this go.” I clasp my hands in prayer, knowing Cole’s the only one able to persuade my brother-in-law to put this tragedy behind us. Temporarily or not. “We all know I’m to blame for what happened. Nobody else. There’s no reason to start a war.”
His jaw ticks, his nostrils slightly flaring. “You’re asking too much.”
“Please.” I glance at Stella, needing him to agree for her sake. For the safety of everyone under this roof. If he retaliates toward the people who shot my husband, more of us could die. And I’ll be responsible for those deaths, too. I won’t be able to live with the increase in blame. I can barely breathe as it is. “Don’t risk those we love because of my mistakes.”
His eyes harden, the pity vanishing. “That’s not how things work. We need to make it known that we don’t accept—”