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I took my phone from my pocket and dialed Mikhail’s number.
“Brat! Is there a problem?”
“Pack your bags, we’re going back to New York.” I hung up before Mikhail could protest, not that he would anyway.
We landed in New York eleven hours later, and the whole one-hour forty-minute drive to the house was passed with me struggling to conceal my excitement.
“You’re smiling,” Mikhail pointed out one time.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“Are you in love with the Italian?”
The question took me by surprise because Mikhail was never the type to be direct about his assumptions. Dimitri and Isidor would have, but not him. If he could ask, that meant he’d already made the conclusion that I was, and that was a big problem. Nevertheless, the bigger problem was that he’d used the word love. He should’ve known better than anyone else that such a catastrophic word was not something I wanted to be associated with.
“Love.” I scoffed at the insult. “Do you have a death wish, Mikhail?”
“It looks more like you have the death wish,” he returned. “You can’t fall in love with a fucking Italian. Dante Paolo’s daughter especially.”
“Shut the fuck up, Mikhail. I don’t love her,”
“I’m sure you don’t,” he inclined. “Reason why we’re going back to New York four days earlier than we should?”
“You motherfucker,” I spat at my brother. Half of what he said was true. I was returning to New York earlier because of Adrienne, but that wasn’t because I loved her—I hated the sound of that word.
We pulled over at the manor minutes later and I headed straight to my room to look for Adrienne, and then to hers when I couldn’t find her in mine. She wasn’t there either. I went down to the kitchen to look for her.
Maria jumped back as soon as she saw me, clearly startled by my presence. “Boss, I-I didn’t know you’d be back today.”
“Well, I am back today.” I peered around the kitchen. “Have you seen Adrienne?”
She shook her head nervously. “Not since yesterday.”
A part of me doubted her, but I nodded anyway. I could deal with her later, but for now, I needed to find Adrienne.
“Die, bitch. Fucking die.” I recognized the voice instantly. It was Camilla’s. My heart switched places with my stomach at the thought that it was Adrienne she was telling to die. My legs moved to the pool area faster than they’d ever been. Camilla was standing at the edge of the pool, her hands inside it, as if she was trying to pull something out…or trying to keep someone in.
I didn’t have time to think before I dived into the water still with my suit on. Adrienne was not struggling beneath the water which made me think she had been under for a longer time. I carried her out of the water and put my head on her chest to check if she was breathing, which thankfully, she was. I put my mouth over hers and blew air into her, then I pulled away, doing the thirty chest compressions.
Adrienne started coughing up water before I could do a second round of mouth-to-mouth on her. “Andrei,” she whispered as soon as she opened her eyes.
“I’m here, baby.” She was shivering from the cold water, so I scooped her up from the ground and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so sorry I left you all alone.” A mixture of fear and relief fought over me; fear that I would have lost Adrienne, and relief that she was okay. I truly had no idea what I’d have done if she died. I couldn’t imagine a world without her diva aura.
“What happened?” I hadn’t even noticed Mikhail’s presence till he spoke. “Camilla!” he growled.
I tilted my head to Camilla, who looked like she’d frozen inside a fucking pile of snow in winter, and I was damn about to make sure I defrost her. I sat Adrienne up gently; she almost fell over to the side, but I caught her. I wondered how sick she really was to be weak enough for Camilla to try and kill.
“Let me.” Mikhail put his hand on Adrienne’s back to support her. I nodded at him and left her.
“How dare you lay a finger on her?” My roar filled the air; it was enough to make Camilla flinch.
She crawled backward as I edged toward her. I was certain my eyes were the color of liquid fire because it had her completely terrified of what would come next, as she should be. “It was a mistake, I didn’t mean to, I swear.” She started bawling. I hated her fake tears, so rather than move me, they made me more aggravated.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d take your tongue if you dare insulted her again?”
She nodded. “You did—it was a mistake; I didn’t mean to.”
I nodded. “I know.” Then I opened my arms. “Come here.” Animosity seeped through the calmness of my voice.
