Page 51 of Roses are Royal

I’m sure my hair is a mess. I can only imagine the mascara, blood, and dirt streaks across my face, but most importantly, Dante’s eyes settle on my left arm hanging limply at my side, and I don’t think Dante is breathing anymore.

64

DANTE

Dead. They are all dead men. My Belladonna is hurt, and I let it happen. I didn’t protect her. I didn’t even check to see if she was okay before I dragged her through my secret entrance to the basement and out the door that leads into the tunnel we just came out of.

I was on the phone with Angelo upstairs when the explosion went off, and I don’t know how many seconds or minutes it took me to find Rose lying on the ground downstairs because I was so disoriented from the attack. The only word I could speak was her name, and I couldn’t tell if I was yelling it out loud or only in my head, but when I saw her at the bottom of the stairs, unmoving, I was prepared to take every last one of those men down with me. No one, including myself, would be leaving that house alive if she was dead. But then I saw the smallest breath and her chest rise and fall. I didn’t have time to think, just act.

I know Luca was alive when we left him, but I doubt he is now, and I won’t say that to Rose. I’ve seen injuries like his before, and unless he gets immediate medical attention, his injuries are fatal. I will have to deal with telling Rose that when I can get her to safety, and that means we need to go back to the city. Angelo will already be sending out reinforcements, but they won’t get here in time.

“Rose, baby, I’m sorry, but I need to pop your shoulder back into the socket to help with the pain, okay?”

She gives me a small nod, which I take as permission, and I don’t give her a chance to hesitate before gripping her hand tightly and pulling with force. Her scream of pain nearly brings me to my knees, but I have to stay in control for her sake. She is not safe out here, and that is my only priority.

Rose has been silent since I reset her shoulder and got her in the car I kept hidden near the tunnel exit for circumstances just like this. I thought she was sleeping when she didn’t immediately start asking questions in rapid-fire succession like she normally would or yelling at me or just…anything. It’s not like her to be silent, but when I check on her from the corner of my eye as we drive toward the city, I find her staring out the window, unmoving. Maybe she is in shock?

She isn’t used to situations like we just experienced, especially having to leave Luca like we did, but I figured she would have something to say after everything. I don’t want to push her, though, so I’ll let her silence remain and give her the space to process the events of the evening. We will be back in the city soon, and she will get answers to questions she never knew to ask.

65

ROSE

Walking up the steps of a large, historic-looking brownstone with a reddish-brown sandstone facade and green ivy crawling up and covering one side completely, I’m not sure what to expect when the door opens, but it wasn’t an older gentleman rushing toward me. Two additional men, dressed in all black, follow him.

“Violetta!” the older man exclaims as he wraps me in his arms, but he must feel my wince of pain because he quickly pulls back and holds me out for inspection. “Are you hurt? Who hurt you? Dante! Why the hell is she injured? Explain. Now.” This man sounds strangely similar to Dante with his murderous concern and barking orders with every expectation that they will be followed without hesitation or complaint.

“Angelo, why don’t we go inside first, and I will explain everything.” Dante sounds exhausted and like that is the last thing he wants to do.

So this is Angelo? Dante’s boss? The man who raised him? And why is he hugging me and calling me Violetta? My mind is too exhausted from the events of this evening. I’m sure I could fall asleep the moment I lie down, but I want to hear what Dante has to say. And I want to know why Angelo thinks I’m someone named Violetta.

Walking through the gorgeous foyer with white marble floors, Angelo leads us to a sitting room right off the kitchen. The brownstone must have been updated at some point in the past several years because it has an open concept living space. I can see through the entire main level to the back of the property, where I can make out a courtyard lit by hanging lights and the glow of the moon.

My mind and body are so numb, I barely register sitting in one of the large leather armchairs and someone handing me a mug of something hot to drink. But I don’t take a sip. I just let the warmth from the mug seep into my hands as I cup the sides and stare off into the fireplace on the wall across from me.

“You look just like her.” Angelo is the first to break the silence. Sounding almost in awe.

“Who are you talking about?” I’m so lost and too tired to keep up with whatever he is going on about.

“Liliana. Your mother.”

“I’m sorry. I must still be in shock because I could’ve sworn you just said I look like my mother. But that is impossible. I don’t have a mother. Well, obviously I had a mother at some point, but I’ve never known her. And why does that name sound so familiar?” The last part is directed toward Dante as I finally lift my gaze to meet his eyes for the first time since we left the forest and drove to the city in complete silence.

I was in pain and shock, so silence seemed like the best chance for self-preservation. Now I wish I would’ve asked Dante every question rolling through my head.

“Do you remember what I told you about Angelo’s daughter, Lily? How she was murdered shortly after I had come to live with them?” Dante prompts. Clearly, I’m missing something. “Liliana was your mother. She was killed shortly after giving birth to you, only Angelo wasn’t aware you existed at the time of her death. Liliana had placed you at the church when you were a baby and never told anyone. Angelo only found out about you recently.”

“How is any of this even possible? And why should I believe anything either of you say?”

“Trust me, this is the truth.” Dante has some nerve asking me to trust him after everything tonight.

“What Dante says is correct. And honestly, you could be Liliana’s twin with how similar you look. Except for your eyes, Lily’s were brown, and heterochromia doesn’t run in my family. You must have gotten those from your father.” Angelo sounds almost in awe, like he could be sitting across from his deceased daughter right now, and it’s creeping me out.

I have just met this man, and he is acting like we have some kind of connection just because we might be related. I don’t know what I believe, but having a sliver of possibility that I might actually have family, real family, causes me to soften a bit. A million questions are swirling through my brain right now, and I want answers.

“Okay, so if Liliana is dead”—wow, way to get right to the point, Ro—“then why didn’t my father ever come for me? Why did he let her leave me like that? Is he dead too? Why didn’t you look for me? Why am I even here now?” I thought I had gotten over the hurt of being left as a baby long ago, but tonight has reopened old wounds.

“Since I only learned about you recently through a letter Liliana left for me, I’m not sure who your father is, or if he even knew you existed. I’m sure if he did, he would’ve looked for you. Lily didn’t mention him in her letter, only you. And Lily kept to herself the last few months before her death. I’m assuming now that she was concealing her pregnancy from not only me but possibly whoever your father is too. I admit, my efforts were focused on finding you first, as soon as I learned about you, before ever considering who he might be.” Angelo is clearly still coming to terms with everything as well, and I’m sitting in his house, looking like his dead daughter.