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As we sit there in the secluded spot, I find myself becoming more and more entranced by Fiero. His unquestionable desire to know me makes it all the more difficult to remember that I'm here for a mission.
Lying to him feels despicable.
"Have you ever doubted your abilities?" Fiero asks. I really need to focus on exposing these lies while my heart drowns in self-loathing.
"Of course," I admit, struggling to maintain an air of authenticity. "But each time my predictions come to pass, it strengthens my belief in my gift." My heart races as I add, "And with each passing day, I feel more and more connected to something greater than myself."
Fiero's gaze never leaves mine, and a shiver runs down my spine as a gust of wind whistles through the leaves above us. I feel Fiero lean closer, his breath almost hot in my ear.
"Tell me about your last prediction," he asks softly, unaware that his words pierce my heart like daggers.
My breath catches in my throat, and I feel an overwhelming wave of emotion threaten to drown me. My father's face flashes before my eyes, the pain of his loss still so raw and real.
The truth of losing him never came through a dream or a crystal ball, but I should have trusted my intuition when he first suggested we steal the diamond and backed out of infiltrating Fiero’s first party…I should have; I could have saved him.
Tears well up, and despite my best efforts to blink them away, they spill over and stream down my cheeks.
"Romola?" Fiero's concern is palpable as he reaches out to touch my arm gently.
"Sorry," I choke out, trying to compose myself. "My last prediction was...difficult."
"Please, you don't have to share it if it's too painful."
But somehow, I find myself wanting to confide in him – needing to let him into this dark place in my soul. "It was a nightmare," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I dreamt of my father's death."
“Dio mio—oh my god,” his eyes widen. "But as you mentioned yourself, not everything comes true,” he tries to comfort me.
“You don’t understand,” I almost shriek, anger fuelling through me at all that’s happened. "It became...a tragic reality." My tears flow freely now, but Fiero doesn't shy away from my rage. Instead, he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me as I sob into his chest.
Chapter 26
Fiero
Just then, it begins to drizzle ever so slightly, the clouds bursting open with their own distress. Beside me, sobs wrack Romola’s body. I hold her tightly in my arms, feeling her warmth seep into me.
My hands gently stroke her back, and I whisper words of solace into her ear, trying to offer some semblance of comfort where there is none to be offered.
"Shh, cara mia," I murmur, "I'm here for you. You're not alone."
“Yet, I’ve never felt more alone in my life,” she cries.
My heart shatters into small pieces as Romola's tears continue to stream down her face, and I feel angry at being so damn helpless. It’s unusual for me to be in a situation I can’t fix, and this proves to be a rare one at that. In watching her suffer, I am reminded of my own pain.
"Romola," I say hesitantly, gently soothing my fingers through her mildly wet hair. “This pain you feel is so unbearable. It’s nothing you’ve felt before, nothing you’ll feel again. It might feel like you’ll never be whole again, but someday, I swear, you will learn to live with it. Perhaps, even remember it with strength to see how far you’ve come?”
She pulls away from me, the gentle splatter of the rain mixing with the tears on her long, pretty lashes. “How the hell would you know?” she hisses at me angrily.
I don’t blame her. I remember feeling the exact same way when I lost my parents. Anyone who had tried to tell me to look past the pain toward the future was at the receiving end of my wrath.
"Because, Romola, I understand your pain more than you know. When I was just 14 years old, I lost my parents in a public shooting." The memory, still raw after all these years, causes a lump in my throat.
She gasps, and I let out a small cough to stop myself from choking up. I can’t break down right now. I need to be strong for her.
"They were innocent bystanders, caught in the crossfire between rival gangs. I had to watch helplessly as their lives were stolen from them right in front of my eyes." My voice trembles, and I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions at bay. "I felt so alone, so lost... I didn't know how to survive in a world without them."
Romola's sobs quieten, replaced by a look of shock and empathy. Instinctively, she reaches over and takes her hand in mine. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You poor, poor child. Were you with them then?”
“I was in the car. My parents had to be dropped off somewhere before I was to head for the house. The minute the shooting happened, my father’s men drove me away. It was only later that I learned they hadn’t survived.”
