She took a risk coming to Naples. She knew it, she must have. Her brother, the coward, watched from an ocean away. But she honored her father’s wish to be buried in Italian soil. She loved him and he loved her. Probably more than his other children. More than the sister for certain. I can understand why. But Vittoria is no longer a child and she must know the things he’s done, the people he’s hurt. Does it not make her as evil as him to love him regardless?
I switch on the shower, strip and step under the flow. I see her eyes the instant I close mine. That vivid blue so bright. I open them again and pick up the bar of soap to scrub myself clean. My reaction when she mentioned her brother is something I will need to get hold of. I can’t hurt her in a rage. Not when I may need her more than I like.
The image of her naked body, her spread legs when I stood over her, it makes me want. A voice inside my head reminds me that I can take her. Have her. She is mine. I switch the water to ice cold and suck in a deep breath, turning my face up to it.
I am not that monster. Because like I told Bastian, that would make us no better than her brother. It would erase what he did to Hannah.
I switch off the water, grab a towel and dry myself off, looking at my reflection as I wrap the towel around my hips. I pick up my comb and brush my hair back, leaning in close to see the scar Geno Russo ordered his men to carve into my face. Mine and my brother’s. He thought it would frighten us. Make us tuck tail and disappear. But he was wrong. It only enraged us. Drove us to this point. My only regret is that he died before I could kill him.
Switching off the bathroom light I walk into the bedroom. I own this house, have this life, because of my grandfather, Humberto. What I have should have been Angelo’s. But he didn’t live. That’s another wrong I will right. I have yet to punish all the men who killed my best friend. But it is coming.
Choosing a light charcoal cashmere sweater and dark jeans, I get dressed and head downstairs, pausing only momentarily at her door.
“Anything?” I ask the guard.
He shakes his head. “Not a sound.”
“Francesca will bring food up. Check the tray when it goes in and when it comes out.” I wouldn’t put it past my little captive to steal a fork to stab me with.
“Yes, sir.”
Downstairs, the kitchen door swings open, and my brother steps out, saying something that has my mother and Francesca laughing. When he sees the scratches and the cut to my neck, his expression grows serious.
“Our Dandelion has claws,” he says casually.
“That she does.”
He eyes the damage more closely. “Don’t tell me she ambushed you.”
“She had a dagger on her.”
“Hm. I guess I’d be more surprised if she didn’t.”
“How’s mom?”
“Not great. She asked when Hannah’s coming down to eat.”
Our mother’s dementia has progressed to the point that she can’t be left alone. Francesca is her nurse but also a companion to her. I guess I should be grateful she can’t remember that Hannah is dead. That she’s been dead for fifteen years. Maybe it’s a blessing. But seeing her decline too soon is hard.
“What’s she like?” He gestures upstairs.
“More ballsy than you’d expect.”
“She will make trouble for us, brother. I’m telling you now.”
“I’m sure she will but like I said, it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
“I’m going to go have a shower. We still on to go to Palermo tomorrow?” Palermo is where the man who actually pulled the trigger that killed Angelo is being held. A man they call The Reaper. He’s American. Brought in especially for the job apparently. Stefan Sabbioni, the man who controls Sicily, caught up with him on his property once I’d put the word out. He’s been holding him for me. I want to question him before I kill him.
I nod. “I’ll go alone, though. I think one of us should stay here and keep an eye on our captive.”
He glances up the stairs, the idea clearly appealing to him.
“Besides, I owe The Reaper personally.” Because his was also the bullet that almost killed me.
“Amadeo,” mom calls out from the kitchen, interrupting us. “Are you coming? Your food’s getting cold.”
I give her a big smile. “Coming, mom.”
7
Vittoria
I hear a woman’s voice outside my door, followed by a man’s who I assume is the soldier. They speak Italian, and a moment later, the lock turns, and the door opens. I sit in the center of the bed and watch.
After Amadeo left, I got dressed and resumed my place. I haven’t looked at the book he left here for me. Seeing it from the corner of my eye gives me a little anxiety, to be honest. What’s in there? What will I learn that I don’t want to know? It could be lies, his lies. But he seemed so confident. So sure.
The woman nods to me. She’s the one from downstairs who came running after the other one. The soldier gives me a bored look from his place at the door.
I track her as she carries a tray of delicious-smelling food to the table, pushes the leather-bound tome aside, and sets the tray down. She glances at me briefly, then hurries back out, and the door is closed and locked again.
My stomach growls as I get to my feet. I pad barefoot over the carpeted floor to the table. On the tray are a fork and spoon, no knife, a tall glass of water, a small salad, garlic bread, and, under a lid to keep the food warm, a huge bowl of spaghetti covered in what smells like the most delicious tomato sauce I’ve ever had. Or it could be that I haven’t eaten in I don’t even know how long. Since yesterday maybe. I don’t remember having breakfast this morning. I pull the chair out, pick up the fork, and twirl the pasta. It’s piping hot and richly flavored. I eat fast, devouring the spaghetti, followed by the salad and the grilled garlic bread.
When I’m done, I sit back with a hand over my belly and look out the window at the beautiful night. It’s quiet in here. I bet it’s quiet out there, too. We live in a high-rise in the city back in New York, and although it’s quiet within our penthouse, it’s a different sort of silence. And the sky over the city doesn’t boast even an eighth of the stars that sparkle like diamonds in black velvet here. Looking at the horizon, I can’t tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins, but I see the lights of distant ships and yachts, just a few in the vast sea. It is beautiful, even if a little lonely.
I put the lid back over the dish and rub my eyes. I’m tired and want to sleep, but I need to shower first. Need to scrub the day off me. I knew today wouldn’t be happy. I knew I was taking a risk coming to Naples. And maybe it was naïve of me, but I never expected what happened to happen. I had guards to protect me, and what could anyone want with me? My brother, I could understand. But I have nothing to do with that side of the family’s affairs. Had my father gotten into trouble with this family? Done something so horrible they did what they did?
Dandelions in a field blur my vision.
Getting to my feet, I push all those thoughts aside. I need to focus on what’s important right now and that is getting out of here and back to Emma. And until I can get back, I need to find a way to make contact with her to make sure she’s okay, make sure she knows I am too. Because one thing I know for sure is that Lucien won’t be looking after her. At least she’ll have Hyacinth, the nanny, with her. She was going to spend the nights with her while I was gone, but now who knows how long I’ll be or if I’ll return at all. What then?