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I gave my uncle the instruction years ago. I wanted anyone who had anything at all to do with their murders, no matter what role they played. He has obliged me. He does good work. Thorough work.
But maybe the ones that don’t feel right are a mistake. He’s not infallible.
There’s a knock on the door and I close the ledger, expecting Scarlett.
Lenore enters with another tray carrying a second coffee cup and more food. “Scarlett will be down in a few minutes. I assume she’ll eat with you.”
“I wasn’t inviting her in for breakfast.”
“Well, the girl needs to eat and if she’s in your house, you’re the host.”
“She’s not exactly a guest. Take those away.”
Lenore stops, looks up at me, eyes narrowed, jaw set. And I have a flash of memory. It’s that look. The one she used when she was angry with any of us. My smile must confuse her at least momentarily before I school my features and tell her again to take Scarlett’s cup and plate away.
“You listen to me, young man. Scarlett is your guest. Period. You will feed her. And you will treat her with respect.”
I snort.
“If your father were here—”
“He’s not here!” I snap and instantly regret it. “Fuck.” I shift my gaze away then turn back to her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I know how you miss them, but I’m worried about Scarlett, Cristiano.”
“Why?”
“She had the window wide open when I went up there.”
My heartbeat doubles at this, remembering our conversation two nights ago. “What was she doing?”
“I don’t know. She said she was just taking in the sea air but I’m not sure. You just take care with her. They hurt her too, remember. They killed her parents too and God knows what else they’ve done to her or her brother.”
It takes all I have to keep myself behind my desk.
“I don’t interfere often, but this needed to be said,” she adds on.
“Fine. You’ve said it. You can leave the things. I’ll make sure she eats. When I’m finished with her, have Alec take her down to see her brother. Jacob De La Cruz will be by in about an hour. I don’t want her to see him here.”
She nods without questioning me and I wonder again just how much Lenore truly knows.
14
Scarlett
I walk downstairs unattended and find Alec waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“This way,” he says.
I follow him through a corridor I’ve not yet explored to the last door. Alec knocks and opens it on Cristiano’s command. He stands aside and I walk in to find Cristiano freshly showered, although looking like he hasn’t slept, wearing a different suit than he had on yesterday. The other man is there, too, on the couch. He’s sipping from a cup of coffee. Cerberus, who was lying on a bed in the corner, lopes toward me. I get the feeling I’m disturbing his morning nap.
Leaning down, I pat him.
Cristiano stands up and looks me over, then dismisses Alec. He rubs a hand over his clean-shaven face like it feels foreign to him. Maybe it is because I’d assumed the five-o’clock shadow was permanent. Actually, I hadn’t realized I’d filed away so many details about his appearance and it annoys me a little that I did.
The memory of what happened last night is making my cheeks burn. Making more than that burn.
I touched myself last night. I hated myself for it, for thinking of him, for feeling his hand on me there. For remembering the feel of it. For coming at the thought of it, of him, his mouth on mine, eyes on mine, hands on me.
Blinking my gaze away, I banish the memory and concentrate on petting Cerberus who nuzzles my neck when I crouch down.
“Cerberus,” Cristiano says and points to his bed.
“I don’t mind.”
“I do.” He snaps his fingers and the dog obediently returns to his place.
“He’s quite the guard dog,” I say, trying to get back to our banter. Trying to pretend like what happened last night isn’t on the forefront of my mind. Is it on his?
I straighten to take in the study. When I see the blanket and pillow on the edge of the couch, I wonder if he spent the night on it. It’s a beautiful broken-in Chesterfield that spans the whole of one wall.
“He doesn’t like most people, actually.”
“I wonder where he gets that from.” I smile, look to Cerberus and give him a wink. He wags his tail and I see Cristiano shake his head in my periphery. It gives me a small sense of satisfaction.
The man on the couch clears his throat and for a moment, it looks like Cristiano forgot he was even in here.
“Dante, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, my brother, Dante.”
Dante nods to me but he doesn’t smile, so I don’t either. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him, so I guess we’re good. Except that he’s got a gun in a holster on his shoulder and I have nothing.
