Adrianowouldn’t be in hell, he’d said. Did that meanhewould be?
I jolted between the two front seats as Milan sharply turned a corner, pulling up a steep driveway that probably warded off burglaries just from the sheer vertical height of it. It was too dark to see all of the details, but I could make out neatly trimmed green trees and bushes lining the street behind two guards manning a tall steel gate. They each nodded once at Milan before the gate unlocked, and I couldn’t help but gape at the estate that stood proudly before me.
The house was white stone with large, oval windows and doors with an even whiter, purer frame. The circular driveway was clean, not a single leaf touching it. It felt more like a castle than a house. Warm golden light poured from every window and door, and it made me breathe, made me calm, made this suddenly feel like more of a home than Dad’s gray manor had ever been.
How did the Milan who had just tortured a guy to death live somewhere likethis?
“This is your house?” I whispered more to myself than Milan as the car came to a stop, and I followed the two out on still-unstable legs. “Jesus Christ.”
“Yes.” Milan sighed. “Your assessment of my home is unnecessary.”
Adriano chuckled as he gestured for me to follow them toward the front door, and I did, telling myself that it wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I had to, wasforcedto even.
I was tired in a bone-deep kind of way. Physically, only my hand hurt. Mentally, if one more thought entered my brain, I would collapse. Still, I followed and allowed that one more thought as I passed through the threshold to Milan’s home.
It was empty.
Utterly void of furniture andlife,simply stretches of plain white marble and nothing else.
Adriano closed the door behind me, and as if he could read my mind, he whispered, “We’re still moving in, and I’m still in the process of trying to convince Milan that decoration is nice.”
Milan threw his keys onto a nearby cardboard box that was still taped up and didn’t give either of us another look as he escaped down the hall. The only words he left us with were “take your shoes off” and then he was gone, tearing at the top buttons on his bloodied shirt as he ascended the spiral staircase three steps at a time.
I guessed that meant we weren’t going to talk about the attack, or what had happened to him when he’d seen the blood on his hands. There was so much I had to ask him, though I wasn’t sure how I would ask, or if he would even answer me.
My husband was an ass, but was it more than that?
“Come.” Adriano sighed, moving toward the staircase. “Let me show you your wing.”
The rest of the house was just as empty—so empty that my shoes echoed against the marble as I followed silently. There were no photos on the hallway walls, no plants in corners, no curtains or drapes over the wide circular windows.
He pointed at a wide, ornate archway with floral crowning as we passed by the first floor. “Kitchen. There isn’t one in any of the wings, so you’ll have to share with us.”
I hadn’t expected to have a separate bedroom, let alone my own kitchen; at least there weren’t more occasions that I would be pushed away, and they would have to be near me, whether they liked me or not.
“The kitchen’s on the first floor? What’s the rest of the downstairs for then?” I asked.
“Business, the garage too. Milan and I have offices downstairs. I’d stay out of there unless you want to use the pool, then you’ll have to pass our doors.” Adriano shrugged, stillingfor a moment before finishing, “Just don’t go in Milan’s office is what I’m trying to say.”
“I guess that ruins my thoroughly thought-out plans of breaking into it then. However will I occupy my time?”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as we continued. I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a living room beside the kitchen, judging by the couch and the TV. I almost commented something snarky about Milan permitting a TV the size of Jupiter in his house, but Adriano was already pausing before a set of glass double doors that seemed to lead into an even brighter corridor.
“Milan and I share a wing,” Adriano said, flinging his fingers toward said wing.
My cheeks grew hot.
“Jesus, Sicily, we sleep in separate bedrooms. Don’t look at me like I’ve just said I fuck your husband every night.”
My mouth fell open. “I didn’t?—”
“If you need Milan, he’s on the right. I’m on the left. Don’t get us confused. Please.”
And then we were moving on, up to another floor entirely. This one was dark, like it had remained unused for some time, but when Adriano turned the glass chandelier lights on, the landing revealed everything, including its colorful, mismatched furniture.
This wasn’t a hallway, it wasn’t a wing of the house, it was a fullhome.The sitting room had deep green walls, one navy blue couch with yellow cushions, and another orange couch with pink cushions. There was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stacked with a variety of books, a small white desk with a pink laptop and a fluffy matching rug beneath, and dusky blue drapes framing the sight of a distant pond to finish it all off.
Tears filled my eyes as I held my breath and tried to focus on just one beautiful aspect of the space, but it was impossible.I had never seen this much color, never been allowed to live within this much life. I choked quietly as I whispered to Adriano, “You have good taste.”
