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I guess I’ve never really grieved for them. I don’t think I knew how. And after the accident, my father wasn’t capable of helping me through it when he was dealing with so much grief himself.
But I’m not sure you ever get over the death of your family, do you? Is Damian over the loss of his sister or mother?
“Ma’am.”
I jump, finding Joseph standing behind me. He’s different than Cash was. He walks and talks like a trained soldier. For some reason, I know he’s loyal to Damian and it makes me feel safer.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest. We’ll wake you if anything changes.”
“Can I make a call?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I just want to let my cousin—”
“It would compromise our location.”
“Can you just ask Damian at least?”
“Shall I escort you up, ma’am?”
I press my lips together and exhale. “No, that’s fine. I know the way.”
Without another word, I turn and head up the stairs.
The curtains in my room are closed. I flip the light switch and the lamp beside my bed goes on, bathing the room in warm yellow light.
I stand with my back against the door, my hands behind me, as I take it in.
Scott’s bed is in one corner and mine stands against the other. We were so close we’d wanted to share a room. His bed is covered in a dust cloth but mine is made in bedding I recognize.
I go to it, pull back the blanket and lean my head down to smell the sheet. It smells clean and fresh, ready for me to crawl into. Has he had it maintained all these years? Why?
Before I walked in here, I’d peeked into my parents’ bedroom to see if I could use the phone there. But the furniture was covered over with dust cloths similar to the one that covers Scott’s bed. And the phone was gone.
I turn to the wall of dolls and remember the one from the solarium. I shudder and look away, going to the window.
Peeling back the curtain, I glance out into the backyard. He’s cut the huge oak tree that used to stand outside my window. It probably needed to be cut. I still remember how those branches would tap against the glass during the storms and looked so much like long, bony fingers. It scared the hell out of me.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I slip off my robe and boots and lie down. I pull the blanket up. Reaching over, I turn out the light beside the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I wonder what’s happening to Damian, wonder where he is. Wonder if he’s safe.
And as my eyelids begin to close, I wonder what would happen to me if he wasn’t. If it would free me.
If it’s what I want.
Because I keep hearing his words in my head. He loves me. He won’t let me go. And all I can think is I need him to call me. To let me know he’s okay.
Because if he’s not, I don’t think I will be either.27Damian“It was a mistake to let him go,” Tobias says.
“I fucking heard you the first time and I don’t need to hear it again. What I need to know is where the fuck he is.”
My brother put on the best show of his life. I have to admit, he’s good. He had me fooled and I’ve never thought myself easily fooled.
What had he said, though? That most men are gullible.
Well, I guess he’s right. And hell, maybe he was trying to warn me all along.
“Where the fuck is he?” I demand, because this time I am going to fucking kill him. It’s what I should have done instead of letting him off without punishment. What he’s done will cost me.
I’m sure my enemies are raising their glasses in a toast as I stand here and watch my fucking fleet burn down.
“Genoa’s under control,” Tobias says. “They managed to deactivate all but one of the explosives.”
Bombs.
Fucking bombs.
I guess he went old school too.
Clementi has disappeared. Father and sons vanished. That fucker was playing me. Adam Valentina was on his way to disappearing, but my men picked him up at his ex-wife’s house. His weakness is his kids. Or maybe it’s his wife. Predictable.
The thought bothers me. My brother’s words coming back to me bother me.
Cristina is my weakness. He knows it. They all do.
Another explosion draws my attention back to the TV. I wonder if my father is watching my downfall on the news.
A text message vibrates the phone in my palm. I shift my attention to it. Lucas’s name pops up on the screen. It’s a text. A single word text.
Lucas: Seriously?
I’m about to reply and ask what the fuck he thinks he’s doing when I get a second one.
Lucas: I had no idea you were so sentimental. Tell me, do you love your wife? You never answered my question.
